#apologies for the chaotic scribbles

[nephsnek]

most normal day in blackwatch science dept

[lamiadrowned]

what if Jinx had an affectionate girlfriend? I want to assume Jinx is touch starved so having a girlfriend that loves cuddles and holding hands is a dream come true

*:･ﾟ✧ jinx with an affectionate girlfriend

jinx x fem!reader | sfw

i love her so much :(

it would take her a bit of time to get used to this dynamic.

her entire life, she’s never put much thought into relationships, nonetheless ever believed she’d end up in one, and she’s so happy she did!

especially with someone who seems to love her so deeply, despite how chaotic and difficult she can be at times.

the first few times you guys go out together, you’re always touching her, and she picks up on that quickly. you’re either holding her hand, fidgeting with her fingers, placing your arm around her waist, or playing with the loose strands of navy blue hair that frame her face.

she has no complaints. it makes her feel… warm. safe. appreciated.

but she doesn’t really think of reciprocating this until a small altercation between the two of you.

one day, you’re sitting on the edge of her workbench, listening intently as she shows you the scribbled blueprint of a new invention she’s working on. you can’t remember the name and you have no idea what any of it means, but you’re nodding like you understand so that she’ll keep talking.

“alright, what’s the problem? is it something i said?” she asks you suddenly.

you tilt your head. “what?”

“don’t play dumb! you haven’t touched me at all today!” she grumbles. “you’re always touching me. i mean, did i do something wrong? or–”

“jinx.” you cut her off firmly. “stop that. you didn’t do anything wrong.”

she looks stumped. so, you continue. “i don’t know. it’s just… you never do it to *me,* you know? it’s always me, touching you. i thought, maybe, you didn’t really like it. something tells me that’s not the case.”

your explanation is met with silence, and she stares at you like she’s seen a ghost.

she can’t believe you feel that way. this whole relationship thing is new to her! she had no idea her own self doubt could end up hurting you the way it did.

her first instinct is to apologize. to reassure you that, going forward, she’d be sure to give you as much as you give her, because she really does love the affection.

in no time, she’s just as cuddly as you!

each night that the two of you spend together is spent wrapped up in each other. legs crossed over legs, arms tangled with arms, faces pressed to chests with a constantly growing need to be closer to each other.

i saw somebody else post something about this, but she’d definitely be the type to say something like ‘i wish i could crawl inside you’. she truly can’t get close enough once she learns how good it feels.

and one of many good effects of this is that when she’s having a particularly bad day, you can calm her down in an instant.

if it happens to be one of many days where she’s hearing voices, seeing things that you can’t see, berating people who aren’t really there, all you need to do is put a hand on her shoulder to make her aware of your presence. it’s grounding enough that you can pull her into a tight hug and stroke her hair as she cries into your shoulder.

if it’s one of those days that she’s just angry, where she feels like everything is horrible and everyone else is rotten, you can change her mind in less than an hour by simply leading her to bed and convincing her to lay down for a bit while you undo her braids and scratch at her scalp.

when you play with her hair, it makes her melt, so you’re careful to preserve that effect– you only do it when you feel like she could really use it.

and as for you, if she finds out you’re having a bad day, jinx has learned from the best and she puts her knowledge to good use.

if you’re alone, she’ll pull you into her lap and caress your back, guiding you to rest your head in the crook of her neck because she knows how much you love to be there. if you want to talk about it, she’ll listen. if you don’t, she’ll pick a random topic to ramble about in hopes to take your mind off of things.

if you’re in public, she’ll grab your hand and squeeze it, stroking your palm with her thumb.

unless it’s somebody in particular that’s bothering you. she has no second thoughts about leaving you for a few minutes to go teach them a lesson. either way, the problem gets solved.

given how long she’s gone without any sort of physical affection, it’ll all be very new to her for a while, but jinx is a quick leaner.

sooner than later, your relationship starts to feel more like a constant competition over who’s more touchy and who can get the last kiss.

it’s so mushy! she hates it.

(she loves it).

[pitchsidestories]

el sueño de una niña (1) II Jenni Hermoso x Reader

part 2 I masterlist I word count: 2175

a/n: dear readers, the inspiration for this oneshot was Jenni Hermoso's speech at the Ballon d'Or ceremony, enjoy. 🖤💜

“Wait, I know that you’re a football player. Why did you come from my mamis bedroom?”

Jenni was on her way to sneak out of your appartement but when that small voice held her back. Curiously she turned the head around to look into the eyes of a little girl who the Spaniard estimated to be between five to six years old.

That must have been your daughter Mila Jenni thought to herself. It was the big confession after the great night the two of you had spent together.

Something in the reveal activated her flight mode, the forward’s plan was to leave and never look back. Her life was so chaotic she didn’t feel ready to be a part of a family.

Even though everything about yesterday touched her more than Jenni wanted to admit. Images of it flashed behind her eyes capturing passion, beauty and love. 

“Uhm.. you didn’t see me, okay?”, the raven-haired woman returned the question flustered.

“But you’re the Jenni Hermoso, right? The one who won the World cup with Spain.”, Mila looked at her big-eyed, her voice full of adoration.

“Yes, but don’t tell anyone.”, Jenni replied, pressing a finger to her lips to underline her words.

“Wow.”, the little girl whispered amazed.

“Sorry, I really need to leave now. I’ve a speech to write.”, the striker apologized.

This didn’t stop Mila to confide in the older woman. “I’d love to be a football player like you when I’m grown up.”

“You do?”, something of your daughter’s sincerity made Jenni stay despite her announcement earlier that she needed to go.

“Yes.”, the girl emphasized.

“Hm..”

“It’s a big dream of mine.”, Mila added smiling shily.

“You’ll have to work hard for it.”, the Spaniard told her seriously.

“I can do that.”, your daughter assured her.

“And people will try to keep you from it.. they will tear you down and hope you’ll be compliant.”, Jenni continued gravely, kneeing down so she could look into the girl’s eyes.

“Did they do that with you?”, Mila questioned empathetically, placing her small hand carefully to the dark-haired woman’s cheek.

“Yes. All my life. So, promise me one thing, okay?”, she confirmed.

“Okay?”

“Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and cannot be. Promise?”, Jenni pressed a kiss to your daughter’s fingers.

“I promise.”, Mila answered solemnly.

“If you excuse me now.”, the older woman gave her an apologetic look.

“Bye, Jenni. I hope I’ll see you back soon.”, the girl said in an optimistic tone that left no doubt that the football player would return to your appartement.

“We’ll see. Thank you though.”, Jenni answered gratefully.

“Thank you for what?”, your daughter frowned confused.

“You just gave me an idea for my speech.”, the football player’s face lit up with excitement as she spoke.

Jenni shuffled the pieces of papers once more while someone applied her make up for the Ballon D’Or ceremony.

The writing on her notes was almost illegible, she had scribbled down her thoughts way too quickly on her way to the venue. It didn’t matter. She knew now what she wanted to say on stage. Still, she refused to let go of her notes.

“Jenni, have you actually prepared a speech?”

Alexias face appeared behind her in the mirror, She was already in her suit, her hair pulled into a low bun.

Jenni was about to complain about the surprised tone of Alexias voice when Patri joined them: “No way! I thought you’d just start talking like you always do.“

Jenni raised one eyebrow at the reflection of her two Spanish teammates and grinned: “That was the initial plan but I had a better idea.“

“Did someone spark your inspiration?”, Marta asked innocently.

Once the make-up artist let go of her face, she turned towards them and nodded: “Yes. And I hope she’s watching.“

Her teammates exchanged unreadable glances without saying a word while Jenni walked past them, leading the way to the award ceremony.

For what felt like hours, they sat there and listened to men talk. Jennis gaze kept going back to the clock, willing the time to slow down or the speakers to talk faster so Mila had a chance to watch before her bedtime.

Finally, she was called up on stage to receive her award. There was applause but she knew a lot of the people weren’t satisfied with her nomination. She held onto her notes and it all faded into the background once she started speaking about the little girl that wanted to follow in her footsteps, the girl that deserved to have a safer environment to play football in.

Her teammates welcomed her back to her seat with standing ovations. Alexia nodded at her once with a set jaw while Aitana gave her an inquiring look: “You dedicated it to a young girl? Who’s that?”

“Someone I met this morning.“, Jenni replied truthfully as she sat down.

“She seems to have left quite an impression on you.“, Caroline remarked.

“She did. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with all this shit… but there are so many little girls out there that should have it better than we did back then.“

“I agree with that.“, Alexia chimed in.

Marta nodded in agreement: “Me too, obviously. We had to put up with a lot.“

“Let’s be honest, we still do.“, Aitana whispered.

Jenni answered with new-found determination: “Yes but until she gets older, we might have already changed some more things.“

“I bet we will.“, Salma said quietly, before they all went quiet again and focused on the next award recipient.

Much to the surprise of her national and former club teammates Jenni announced at the after party, the alcohol-free wine glass still resting in her hand untouched. “I think I’m going to leave.”

“Leave?”, Patri repeated puzzled.

“Yeah, this party is boring anyway.”, the striker shrugged. The other women secretly thought the same, they couldn’t celebrate like the men around them as they were having a national team game the next morning.

 Seeing Jenni step into your apartment while she still wore her glamorous dark suit jacket showing a large portion of her skin underneath felt almost unreal to you. It wasn’t that long ago when Mila and you watched the ballon d’or ceremony on tv and now she was back in flesh and blood. The football player was even more gorgeous here than on the screen.

Quickly Jenni revealed that the celebrations had bored her which was the moment you told her about your night.

“Mila stayed awake the whole time, she didn’t want to fall asleep until you were on the stage, Jenni.”

“She watched?”, the dark-haired woman asked happily.

“Yes, Mila loved everything about your speech.”, you nodded thrilled by the fact that your excitement was mirrored in the forward’s face.

“I’ve to thank her. She inspired me.”, she confessed.

“You inspired her as well.”, you admitted smiling.  

“Even if she’s the only one, I reached my goal.”, Jenni beamed.

“To be fair I think you inspired many more with your words.”, you remarked solemnly.

“I hope so.”, the dark-haired woman sighed.

“Trust me.”, you answered softly.

After a meaningful pause you added. “I almost thought you wouldn’t call or wanted to see me again back then you left without a word in the morning.”

“That would sound like me actually.”, the footballer cleared her throat nervously. She loved to play the game, haunting for the next great beauty to court and lay down in bed with before going on the haunt again, always being a restless player. All was fair in love and football.

“She’ll appreciate the thank you though, it’ll mean a lot to her.”, you said while you bit your lip.

“That’s why I’m here. I want to thank you both.”, Jenni looked at you sincerely.

“Shouldn’t you be at the grand afterparty sipping champagne and flirting with pretty women?”, you lifted an eyebrow curiously.

“Not many women there that aren’t my teammates. And I’m not allowed to drink, I’ve to be back with my national team tomorrow.”, the striker chuckled amused.

“I see.”

“And maybe I preferred to spend my time here.”, she acknowledged, one hand ran tensely through her long hair.

You considered her for a moment and nodded in the direction of Milas bedroom: “Sadly she’s already asleep…“

“That’s okay. I could stay if you let me.“

You knew you should have thought about it for longer but you couldn’t resist the thought of Jenni staying one more night: “Yes, you can. If you promise to say goodbye in the morning.“

“If I was planning to sneak out again, I wouldn’t have told you.“, Jenni half-joked.

You tilted your head: “Good point.“

“So?”

“You can stay the night.“, you finally confirmed.

Relief seemed to flash across Jennis face for a millisecond: “Thanks.“

“You’re welcome, Jenni.“

The next morning you were woken up by footsteps on the wooden floor. Your heart sank immediately, thinking it was Jenni breaking her promise so you refused to turn around. You didn’t want to watch her leave again. Instead you heard a tiny voice whisper in awe: “Jenni!”

“Woah, you’re already awake, little one. Good morning.“, Jenni yawned and stretched right next to you.

She was still here, still in your bed.

“I saw you! Last night!”, Mila said full of excitement.

“You did? And did you like my suit? It’s on that chair.“, Jenni smiled, pointing across the room.

You watched as Mila walked over and gently touched the fabric in awe.

“It’s beautiful.“

“Right? Next year I’ll take you and your mum with me.“, the football player said, winking at you as if to tell you that she knew you were awake.

While the smile fell from your face, Milas eyes lit up: “What? Really?”

“Yes, why not?”

You might have been desperate for her to stay another night but you weren’t delusional. Who knew where the two of you were in a year? Most likely not sharing a bed anymore.

“Don’t promise her too much.“, you warned the football player.

Jenni was unusually quiet before replied: “I… mean it.“

“You mean it?”

“I do. I want to keep seeing you and her.“, she said with determination.

Milas eyes had been darting back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. “We want to keep seeing you too!”, she yelled happily.

Completely ignoring you, Jenni turned back to your daughter and pulled her onto the bed: “Would you like to see a football game in Italy tonight?”

Mila was bursting with joy: “Yes!”

“I mean isn’t that too spontaneous? Like what about the airplane tickets?“, you interjected.

“I can take care of it all. But only if that’s okay with you.“, Jenni offered while Mila put on her best puppy eyes: “Pleeease.“

Who were you to deny your daughter such a once in a lifetime opportunity?

With a hesitant nod, you finally agreed: “Okay.“

The day has flown by, Mila and you quickly packed your bag for one night, before following your lover to get on the plane. While the striker was on the team walk, your daughter and you did your own exploring the Italian surroundings. It was like a daydream from which you didn’t want to wake up.

In the evening, you could feel from the stands Jennis glances on you who was standing on the pitch with some of her friends. Next to you Mila couldn’t hide her excitement seeing her favourite players live. It genuinely warmed your heart to witness and share that special moment with your child.

“Pretty girl from next door? She’s so your type, Jenni.”, Laia Codina wiggled her eyebrows.

“That’s why she’s here.”, the forward winked at the defender.

With a smirk on her face Alexia bumped her elbow into her teammates side. “Who would’ve thought that Jennifer found herself a family.”

“Strange things happen, Ale.”, Jenni shrugged with her shoulders.

“Yes, it’s Halloween soon.”, Vicky threw in teasingly.

“Rude.”, the older striker commented smiling.

“Vicky.”, the Barcelona captain clicked her tongue reprovingly.

The test game ended in a draw, but that didn’t stop Jenni from giving you a passionate kiss.

“That wasn’t very subtle, Jenni.”, you laughed.

“I don’t care about subtle anymore.”, she clarified grinning.

“What about the others watching?”, you asked her, cheeks flushed.

“They just love to stare at pretty girls.”, Jenni stated firmly.

“Pretty girls, hm?”, you repeated. Admittedly under her intense gaze you felt more beautiful than ever before. She didn’t hide her desire towards you and wasn’t afraid to show it in the public.

“Yes.”, she confirmed.

“Kiss me again.”, you requested, your voice slightly hoarse from cheering. Before you even could finish your sentence, her lips were on yours, making both of your hearts flutter.

Everything started with a dream of a little girl which was your daughter, in which Jenni saw her younger self, Mila undoubtedly became her inspiration for the speech. The three of you would now dream together.

Keep dreaming.

gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/imverits/765621490900238336?source=share

[amhrosina]

It's Always Been You

Summary: You and Miguel are forced to confront your feelings for one another after a dangerous mission goes awry.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

masterlist // join my taglist // follow me on instagram & ao3

a/n: i cannot stop thinking about this man ohmygod anyways im overwhelmed by the love being shown for my other miguel fic and cant wait to add more to this community!!! thank you!!! (should i do a part two with smut? like friends to lovers first time?? lemme know <;3)

warnings: friends to lovers, arguing, some angst, love confessions!!!!!, reader calls miguel a name, idiots in love tbh, references to a dangerous situation (but no details i kept it super vague lol), starts to get a little suggestive at the end but is like 99% fluff

Miguel was ignoring you. Not in the usual, self-brooding, grumpy way he sometimes did when he was having a bad day, but in the way that told you he was furious with you. Anger had been radiating off of him in waves since your chaotic return to Nueva York a few hours earlier, and you, along with every other Spider-person at headquarters, was avoiding his workspace like the plague. It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to console him, but you knew, probably better than anyone, that when Miguel wanted to brood, he would. You would try again later, and eventually you’d make him laugh, and the world would right itself again. It always did.

Spider-Woman huffed, plopping into the seat next to yours in the cafeteria, slamming her tray down hard enough to knock your tablet on its side. Clearly, she was upset about something. 

“Is everyone pissed off today?” You asked indignantly.

She glared at you, shoving a bite of sandwich in her mouth before answering.

“Miguel’s being pissy.” She glared at you. “And it’s your fault.”

“I can’t imagine why. We got the guy, didn’t we?” 

“We both know what you did was reckless.” Her glare intensified, and your annoyance shifted to guilt. It was a reckless move, but it worked. 

“He was being torn to shreds. I did what any of us would’ve done. If he has a problem, he can come talk to me about it instead of hiding from all of us like a teenager.”

Her gaze softened. “He has a lot on his plate.”

“So?” You combatted, annoyed all over again.

“So, I think maybe what happened today scared him, and he doesn’t know how to process his feelings about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrugged, refusing to meet her gaze.

“You’re his best friend, and he almost lost you today. Go talk to him.” She suggested, patting your shoulder. “I think it’ll do everyone some good. And I do mean everyone. He’s scary when he’s mad.”

You shrugged her off, finishing your dinner in silence. If Miguel was so pissed, why couldn’t he come talk to you about it? Why, after years of knowing each other, were you still the one approaching him with an apology? Why couldn’t he just say what he meant for once?

But of course, after you finished your dinner and realized, hopelessly, that the only person you wanted to see was, in fact, Miguel, you huffed and began the trek to his office, where you knew he’d still be brooding.

The tension in the building had lessened after many of the spider-people had returned to their own universes, glad to get away from the uncomfortable elephant in the room, but that didn’t stop your stomach from clenching when you rounded the corner into Miguel’s dim, untidy workspace.

He was hunched over his desk, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. From your position, you had a clear view of the damage that had been done to his back earlier that day. You winced, thinking back to the few seconds of absolute terror you’d experienced when you’d seen the anomaly tearing into Miguel’s skin. The claw marks had already healed a little, now just raw, nasty looking scratches down the curve of his spine. 

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, though he had likely heard you coming since you stepped foot out of the cafeteria. Anger flickered in his cold gaze, but he was still here, decidedly not hiding from you, which was a good sign. You stepped into the workspace, setting the extra food you’d bought for him down before fully turning to face him.

“Hey.” You murmured. “Brought you some dinner.”

His gaze flicked from your awkward stance to the box of food on the table. “Thanks.”

Short. Blunt. To the point. You sighed.

“You’re still mad, then?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Are you saying I shouldn’t be mad at the stunt you pulled today?” He glared, standing to his full height and towering over you.

“I’m saying you shouldn’t be mad at me for saving your life, asshole.” You looked up at him, refusing to back down.

“I had it under control. It was my anomaly to handle.” His nostrils flared with anger. 

You threw your hands up indignantly. “It was our anomaly to handle, and I handled it just fine! In case you don’t remember, I was good enough at handling myself to be recruited by you for this stupid team!”

“What you did was incredibly stupid. The anomaly could have killed you. Don’t you get that?”

“The anomaly was killing you. I did what I thought was best-”

“Exactly. You did what you thought was best and didn’t think once about the team. You risked an entire universe to show off!” He cut you off, slamming his hands on the desk on either side of you, effectively cornering you.

Your voices had risen considerably since your initial arrival, and you were now inches apart, screaming at each other.

“To show off?” You pushed at his enormous chest, vision blurred with a mixture of tears and anger. “I risked an entire universe to protect you, you asshole! Everything I do is to protect you.”

He grabbed your wrists, easily stopping your arms from pushing him again. 

“You could have died.” He grunted, squeezing your wrists.

“Why do you even care, Miguel? The anomaly was taken care of, just like it always is. We’ll go take care of another one tomorrow, just like we always do.”

“Because I love you, obviously!” He yelled, releasing his grip on you and taking a full step backwards. Stunned into silence, neither of you said anything for a full ten seconds. He began pacing in front of you, hands on his hips, breathing heavily as the magnitude of what he’d just revealed fully hit him. He paused when he heard you sniffle, and began speaking.

“I love you. Can’t you see that?” He asked, stepping close to you. Tears welled in your eyes, and you couldn’t bear to look up at him for fear that it might be a dream, or worse, a cruel trick of his. “I care because I love you, and I almost lost you. I-” he swallowed thickly, “I almost lost it when I realized what you were doing. And when we couldn’t find you after? That was the worst thirty seconds of my life.” He shook his head, clearing the thoughts from his mind. “I can’t lose you. Do you understand that? You’re mine. I can’t lose you, baby.”

You finally lifted your chin, meeting his gaze. He tentatively cradled your cheeks, wiping away the stray tears that had snuck down your face during his speech. 

“I love you, too.” You murmured, nuzzling into his palm. “But you can’t expect me to just watch while you’re being torn to shreds. I had to do something.”

He nodded, though it clearly pained him to agree with you about it. “I know. And I know you can handle yourself. I’m sorry for getting so angry, but you have to understand that your safety is the most important thing to me when we go chasing after anomalies. And I know that it should be saving the universes that we’re in, but it’s not. It’s you, and it’s always been you. Don’t ask me to change that. It will always be you.”

You blinked up at him in stunned silence, nodding. You couldn’t remember when your feelings for Miguel had shifted to something beyond friendly, but you’d never before allowed yourself the fantasy of him loving you in return. It was something you’d come to terms with months ago, accepting that you’d never get to hold him the way he deserved to be held. But now he was standing with you, holding you, begging you to understand that all of his anger has been out of pure, unselfish love for you. 

“I won’t ask you to change that.” You conceded, a small grin forming on your face, “As long as you promise to at least try to stay out of harm’s way.”

“I promise, but you know harm seems to seek me out no matter what.” His grin mirrored the one on your face. He shifted his head down, stopping only centimeters away from your lips. “If I asked you to kiss me right now, would you?”

“That depends.” You breathed, heart thundering in your chest. “Are you going to be this dramatic every time I save your ass, O’Hara?”

He chuckled, cradling your head in his massive hands. “Maybe. Yes. Definitely.”

You shrugged, nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked, eyes flicking between your gaze and your lips.

“Okay.” You bobbed your head once and then leaned in.

He captured your lips in an earth-shattering kiss, exploring every inch of what you offered to him eagerly. His hands roamed the length of your body, pulling you fully against his heated skin. You melted into him, pliable to his every whim and desire, going exactly where he wanted you to go, doing exactly what he wanted you to do. Heat coiled in your entire body, poised to erupt at the slightest touch he offered. You reached forward, tugging at the material around his waist. If he wasn’t inside of you soon, you thought you might explode. His hands wandered below your waistband, too, eager to please.

A loud clunking sound from around the corner had you springing apart, panting, overheated, and completely high off one another’s touch. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed to be seen kissing Miguel. In fact, you were planning on kissing him at every moment possible, if he’d let you. It was the fact that you’d very nearly allowed him to strip you naked and have his way with you in his very public office. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, coming to his senses and adjusting the uncomfortable looking bulge in his pants as the sound of footsteps grew nearer.

“Miguel, you’re going to be in an even worse mood if you don’t just go talk to her. I mean, really, you’re both acting like idiots and clearly love each oth- oh!”

Spider-Woman came into view, waving her hands frantically and then doing her very best to hide the smile growing on her face. You shifted your feet awkwardly, trying your best to look like you hadn’t had Miguel’s tongue shoved down your throat ten seconds earlier. Miguel, as stoic and unperturbed as ever, had simply bent down and returned to scribbling on the paper from earlier, which made you involuntarily scowl. He always looked so cool. It was annoying.

“Am I…interrupting something?” Spider-Woman asked, smirking. Clearly, you weren’t doing a great job hiding anything from her. 

“What was that you were saying when you came in? Something about my mood?” Miguel asked, lifting his gaze to hers.

“Oh, nothing!” She grinned, turning on her heels and leaving the room as fast as she had entered it.

Miguel looked at you, suddenly shy now that you were alone together again. “Wanna bet how long it’ll be before she spills the beans to someone about us?”

You barked a laugh. “I’ll give you my entire paycheck if she hasn’t announced it to someone already.” 

Tag List:

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[ksbrighton]

A Party to Remember Part 2 [Sonic DC AU]

The Daily Planet was buzzing with the familiar hum of ringing phones, clicking keyboards, and the constant shuffle of papers as reporters darted from desk to desk. The newsroom was a whirlwind of organized chaos, typical for a Friday morning. Amy Rose stood near her desk, her voice animated as she juggled a phone call, scribbling down notes in rapid, messy shorthand.

Miles Prower zipped by, his camera bouncing against his chest. His twin tails twitched with excitement as he weaved through the bustling reporters, balancing a stack of photo prints in his arms. Stressed but energized, he did his best to help Amy and keep the daily operations on track.

At the heart of it all, Knuckles White, the gruff editor-in-chief, stood near his office door, barking orders with the authority of a drill sergeant. His white-gloved fists gripped a rolled-up newspaper, which he waved in the air like a weapon, his deep voice cutting through the newsroom chaos like a hammer through glass.

"Rose! I need that story on Shadow Robotnik’s latest charity scheme on my desk in ten minutes! And where’s Parlouzer? Anyone seen him?" Knuckles growled, his patience visibly thinning.

Still on the phone, Amy threw up a hand in a half-apology, half-dismissal. "Yes, Mr. White, it’s almost done!" She barely paused between notes and the phone call. "Give me a minute—yeah, hold on, I’m getting to that—"

Miles, ever the peacemaker, darted toward Knuckles, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He handed the proofs over, flashing a nervous grin. "He’ll be here, Mr. White. Nikki’s just running... you know... a little late." Miles’s voice held optimism, though deep down, he was unsure of Nikki’s whereabouts.

Knuckles unrolled the newspaper with an unimpressed grunt. "Late again? That hedgehog’s the first one out the door but can’t get to work on time to save his life."

Suddenly, a blur of blue zipped through the front door —thankfully unnoticed by the rest of the newsroom. Nikki Parlouzer, his trademark grin in place, rushed in, trying to appear winded as he did a small jaunt into the room. His quills were slightly ruffled, his tie crooked, and his glasses slightly uneven but his confidence was unshaken.

"Sorry, sorry!" Nikki clumsily dodged desks, weaving through annoyed reporters until he reached Amy's. "Sorry I’m late, Ames."

Amy hung up the phone with an exasperated sigh, her gaze sharp as she turned to face Nikki. "What took you so long?"

Nikki scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. "Ah... traffic. It was a nightmare."

Amy arched an eye ridge before fixing Nikki’s glasses making him blush. "Traffic? Nikki, you take the train. What kind of traffic did you run into?"

Nikki smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Foot traffic?"

Amy rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile creeping onto her lips as she headed toward the breakroom for a second cup of coffee. Nikki followed, awkwardly dodging the fast-moving staff, straightening his tie and fixing his quills as he tried to keep pace with her.

"So, what’d I miss?" he asked, flashing his usual charm.

Before Amy could answer, Knuckles stormed over, cutting between the two with a sharp glare. His newspaper jabbed into Nikki’s chest. "What you missed, Parlouzer, is your chance to get started on the story about Robotnik’s fundraiser! It’s his biggest one yet, and you’re already two hours behind schedule."

Nikki’s grin faltered for just a second, but he quickly bounced back, giving a mock salute. "On it, boss! I’ll have it done faster than you can say chili dog."

Amy sighed but couldn’t help a faint smile. "Just make sure it’s done, Nikki. I’m not covering for you again."

Nikki nodded, shooting Amy a grateful look as he hurried to his desk. In the background, Miles rushed by with more papers, matching the newsroom’s chaotic energy. "Glad you could make it, Nikki! We’ve got to get those shots to the press, and Amy’s got a lead on which Metropolis officials are attending the event."

Nikki settled into his chair, spinning around once before stopping to grab a pen—only to feel an envelope in his pocket. "Oh right, I need to—" He was just about to get up when Amy reappeared, placing a mug of coffee on his desk with a teasing smile. "What’s on your mind, Nikki? Besides lousy excuses for being late."

Nikki smiled back, his usual charm flickering as he leaned toward her, holding up the invitation. "What are your plans for Saturday?"

Amy raised an eyebrow, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her coffee. "Asking me on a date, Parlouzer?"

Nikki grinned even wider, rolling his chair a little closer, the usual spark of mischief in his eyes. "Something like that. Wanna accompany me to the Charity Gala?"

Before Nikki could blink, Amy spit out her coffee in surprise. Quick as a flash, Nikki shielded the invitation from the spray, holding it up with a grin. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Amy blinked, then snatched the invitation from his hand, staring at it with wide eyes before looking back at him in disbelief. "Duh, Nikki! How did you get this?"

Nikki shrugged, leaning back casually in his chair. "I know people."

Amy shook her head, smirking as she bent down to wipe the coffee off the floor. "No, Nikki, you don't know people. I know people. Besides, there’s only one person who could’ve gotten you this invitation—and that’s Shadow Robotnik, or his assistant."

Her eyes gleamed with curiosity as she straightened up, still holding the invite. "Don’t tell me you're having a private affair with the playboy billionaire himself."

"WHAT?!" Nikki practically leapt out of his seat, a blush creeping up his cheeks as his voice cracked. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to recover his usual cool demeanor. "No, no, no, it’s not like that!"

“Oh? But you didn’t say you don’t know him…spill it.”

“I don’t know him aaand.” Nikki tried to grab the invitation out of Amy’s hand but she leaned out of the way, making him sit back down defeated a little, “I like to keep an ace up my sleeve.” 

Amy straightened up, her smirk widening as she tapped the invitation against her palm. "Fine, Parlouzer, keep your secrets. But you know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t know him, you got real flustered when I brought up the question."

Nikki froze for a split second, caught off guard by her observation. He quickly flashed his signature grin again, but his laugh was a little shakier than usual. "W-well, I mean, that’s a hefty accusation, ya know? Besides, he’s a handsome guy—who wouldn’t get flustered thinking about him?"

He was practically rambling now, his voice speeding up as he tried to cover his tracks. Amy gave him a slow, suspicious look, raising one eyebrow.

"C’mon, Ames, do you wanna go or not?" Nikki finally blurted, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

Amy didn’t answer right away. She took a sip of her coffee —or what was left of it— her eyes twinkling with mischief as she leaned in just a little closer. "Of course I want to go... but what I really want to know is, should I be jealous?"

Nikki blinked, the color rising in his cheeks again. He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out at first. "Jealous? Wh—no! It’s not... I mean, it’s not like that!"

Amy just smiled, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "Uh-huh. Sure, Nikki."

Nikki opened his mouth to defend himself, but the familiar booming voice of Mr. White rang out from across the room. "Parlouzer! Rose! Get to work or you’ll be covering the dog show next!"

Amy rolled her eyes before getting up to walk away, fanning herself with the invite.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night then, wear something nice~” She winked and sauntered back to her desk, leaving Nikki sitting there.

As he watched her walk off, Nikki's thoughts drifted, now fully focused on the thought of seeing Shadow—or as he knew him, Bathog. His stomach flipped, not with fear, but with the weight of the secret he’d been carrying for so long. How much easier would things be if Shadow knew the truth? Knew that Nikki Parlouzer was actually Supersonic? Maybe then he wouldn’t always feel like he had to keep part of himself hidden from the brooding hero.

It wasn’t that Shadow had anything against Supersonic—far from it. They fought side by side many times, and there was a strange respect between them. But that didn’t change the fact that Nikki wanted to keep his hero life and his normal life separate. Letting Shadow in on his secret felt like crossing a line he wasn’t sure he was ready for. Keeping his identity hidden wasn’t about fear of Shadow’s reaction—it was about keeping control of what little privacy he had left. In Nikki’s opinion, Shadow had always been Shadow, even before he became Bathog. But for Nikki, it was different—he was Supersonic first and 'Nikki' came after—a persona he had crafted for himself, something that felt more personal. 

Nikki groaned, covering his face with his hands, knowing it wasn’t exactly fair. He knew who Shadow really was even if Shadow didn’t know that. Bathog’s mask didn’t hide anything from Nikki—thanks to his super hearing, Nikki could hear Shadow’s voice in Bathog’s, and their heartbeats were the same. He knew who Shadow was, in and out of the cape. But Shadow didn’t know him that way. And that was the real difference.

“Would he even like me if he did know?” 

As far as Nikki knew, Bathog saw Supersonic as “part of the job”, to Nikki they teamed up out of necessity not choice—even now. But what if he could see his “normal” self as more than that? The chances of their paths crossing outside of hero-ing were slim, but Nikki figured if Shadow ever fell for him, it wouldn’t be as Supersonic.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he mulled over the possibilities. The idea of Shadow not knowing his secret created a wall—one that would always be there, unless he decided to break it down.

Nikki shook off the thought, pushing his glasses up and trying to focus on his newsroom life, not his superhero one. Maybe one day Shadow will know who Nikki really is. “Just…not yet…”

“Who are you talking to?” came a voice over Nikki’s shoulder. He yelped, toppling out of his chair as Miles peeked down at him. “Oh... sorry.”

[I am having a little too much fun with this, my inner DC nerd is genuinely showing. Small fact, in the DC universe there are different ways Superman finds out who Batman is, sometimes its Batman who finds out who Superman is first. But my favorite way is that Superman recognizes Bruce's voice and his heart beat which I thought was oddly romantic lol and it perfectly matched this since I'm basing this fanfic off of @blu-ish 's art where Supersonic knows who Bathog is (seemingly before Bathog I'm assuming). Thanks for reading! Part 3 coming soon! Hopefully you like this part ^^]

[sinning-23]

Can we have a first kiss scenario with bertholdt and whoever else you want, thanks

OF COURSEEE! HERES PT 2 of the my first kiss headcannons!

Ps. Sorry this took so long I had to rewrite a part after it got deleted and it made my UPSETTI

Bertholdt

Your first kiss was in secret. You had been dating the tall and quiet brunette for a while and after dinner in the dinning hall you two had decided to walk for a bit together. He was a hel of a whole lot taller than you so when you did finally kiss he was bent down to meet your lips. He’s quick to have a grip around the back of your neck as the kiss manages to deepen. Times like these the height difference is a nuisance, so he doesn’t hesitate to pull you up a bit more while you stand on your tiptoes.

His face is beet red and you can’t help but laugh.

“Did you want to walk jsut so you could kiss me away from everyone?” You ask, your hand overlapping his, which was still on your neck.

His blush darkens. Guilty

"I-I just dont like the idea of everyone see us do that. I get teased you know." He admits as you chuckle, pressing another kiss to his lips and soon his cheek, and finally all over his face.

Levi

It was an accident. You had only done it out of reflex. Everyone deserved forehead kisses before a good night rest. Thats just like- science (Hanji strongly disagrees that it’s science)

Anyway, yo u had been up finishing paperwork with one another and he had slipped into a nap, his head was rested against his hand and he would sometimes fall forward, startling himself awake. This time however, he hadn’t dropped his head at all, and his breathing had become far deeper.

A smile falls over your lips and you stupidly pressed your lips to the captains temple.

He shoots awake, glaring at you as if you were spontaneously combusting.

“Did you just kiss my forehead l/n?

You are free, trying to find a way to explain yourself without coming across as a complete and utter fool.

"I-I...Captain, I apologize. It was out of habit." You gulp, seeing him furrow his brows a bit before resting his head completely don't he desk.

"Uh-huh. Dismissed l/n."

Erwin

It wasn’t common knowledge that Erwin was a married man, but even though you were somewhat secret, you relished in being his lifelong partner. You first kiss was actually at the wedding.

It was the tiniest ceremony, only some of Erwin’s closest colleagues and friends. He said a few words, the whole scene feeling as if you two eloped more than got married.

PDA wasnt particualart something Erwin favored and given both of your current positions it was wise to keep your relationship hidden, especially when Erwin had plant y targets on his back. The last thing he wanted was for harmt o come to you.

On the day of your 'ceremony' You decided that you should at least be out of uniform and dressed nicely with one of your favorite shirts and pants. Ernwin had done the same and here you were standing in front of one another.

He doesnr speak whwn he slips teh ring onto your finger, he only lingers there, his eyes fxated on the band now secure on your body. Like some form of ownership. it was odd but somewhat comforting? It would have relieved him far more if he had know you'd felt the same that day. whe you slipped the metal loop onto his had in return.

"I suppose this makes me your wife now." You hum, hand creeping up to child his face. He's exhausted, but so are you. Taking a chance eon love in this world was a risk but one he was open to talking with you.

"I suppose so." He responds, his lips pressing to yours in a sweet, and sealing kiss.

Hanji

Hanji was chaotic to say the least, but that was all the more reason to love them. On this particularly hot summer evening, There was much work to be done while they filed the reports from their experiments. You on the other hand simply sat pretty atop the center while they paced back and forth between stored specimens and paper to scribble on.

You'd quite fond of them, sticking around at hours of the night to listen to ramblings about titans and new discoveries. Of course, you hadn't told them that seeing as you were supposed to remain professional and a crush on your superior was far from that. Anyway, Hanji had asked is you seen this super important vial they needed and lo and behold it was behind you.

So, like any sensible person would, you grabbed it and handed it to them with a soft smile.

“AH! I could just kiss you!” Hanji cheers, holding your face before pressing the silliest, most comical kiss to your forehead before strutting out the lab to complete whatever new task was at the forefront of their mind.

Miche

It wasn’t your first kiss…but your last. Apparently there had been a breach in the wall and now you were tasked with evacuating near by villages. Miche, was talked with the obvious titan issue and your stomach dropped to the soles of your feet. You didn’t doubt your husband’s capabilities, no. He was highly skilled, but your intuition was harder ever wrong…and something bad was bound to happen if you two split up right now. Your panicking, hands shaking in the handles of your swords, the situations options limited.

You fight the oncoming panic and move to the roof he was currently standing on. He turns to face you, the look nothing short of confused and slight anger.

��You need to go. Now.” He speaks, more of an order than anything excised god knows if he’s show you jsut how wallet your panicked state effected him, he’s follow you in a heartbeat.

“I won’t say everything will be okay-“

“When you come back everything will be okay.” You explain, voice shaking. It breaks his heart

You can feel your eyes burn, tough he was skilled, you felt as if there was no fighting the feeling of impending doom.

You press your lips to his, your faces melting together like two puzzle pieces. How facial hair is scratching your face but you would have it any other way.

His face is tinted afterwards, and his lips purse as if he wished to say something. It was easy to see what it was so you said it instead.

Love is such a funny and cruel thing in this life

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic hearts - (7)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

Had some extra time, wrote the next chapter haha. Ken is a golden retriever lover boy ✨

---

“It's simple. Go through the ‘tunnel of dreams’. It will take you to where she had gone last.”, Weird Barbie stopped as she dug through her trunk of gizmos and gadgets.

“Then?”, he asked sure that was only the first step.

“Then you improvise.”, she spoke as she brought him a few elements that looked like they were put together by herself.

She strapped a watch around his hand, it’s dial displaying a meter that was scribbled in with sketch pens.

“The Doomsday meter. It will help you with knowing how much time you have left since time behaves differently out there.”, she rushed around him as she spoke out instructions and what to look out for but he couldn’t help but wonder how any of this was going to pan out.

He worried for your safety. He was overthinking, cooking up the most terrifying scenarios of what you could have been facing.

What if you were put in jail like he was?

Or roamed the streets without a home?

This was new. He had never worried about Stereotypical Barbie before, but when he thought of you. His hands yearned to hold you close.

Possibly this was because of the level of respect he had for you and your friendship. He can’t be falling in love again so soon. Can he?

He never felt this stressed and calm at the same time when he was in love before. It was thrilling, exhausting and chaotic.

He brought his attention back to the problem at hand. He had to bring you home. Barbie land was on the verge of collapse.

Weird Barbie ran back to him with a shiny little trinket in her hand. A chain with a small crystal heart pendant. It looked ancient and different. It wasn’t a part of this world.

“Thank Mattel, I found this. They discontinued it long ago but it was around the same time Diamond Castle was released. This is a variant of that necklace.”, she held it as though it was sacred.

“What’s so special about it?”, he asked inspecting it closer.

“This is as close as you can get to a magical compass.”, she raised her eyebrows to then carefully place it in the middle of his palm.

“How well do you know her?”, she asked him with her fingers crossed.

“Well enough.”, he mumbled.

He knew you but he couldn’t remember any of it. He had known you in fragments but now it was replaced with an overwhelming need to just see you again. To want to tell you that he missed you.

“Perfect.”, she jumped, her eyes now borderline crazy with hope.

“Now close your fingers and think of one remarkable attribute she possessed that could never change with time or place.”, she rubbed her hands together, her eyes now focused on the trinket hidden in his hand.

He closed his fingers and thought of the one thing he knew best that could never ever change. The one thing that reminded him he was loved and cared for. The one thing that possessed the entirety of your love he didn’t have a chance to value.

So he thought about it. So much so that he could feel his body crave it. It struck him then, that all he wanted now was a second chance. To do things right. To apologize to you and have you back.

To have you back as his … friend?

Yes.

No.

Maybe there was more to this.

But his palm began to grow warm and from within the cracks of his fingers golden light shined through.

Weird Barbie gasped and then clasped her hands over her mouth, “You did it.”, she mumbled in awe.

Relief washed over him, and so did hope, because now he was one step closer.

“Every time it senses her presence, it will glow. The stronger it does, the closer she is.”, she imparted another rule before she looked up at him with curiosity.

“What exactly did you think of?”, she asked.

“She makes the best sea salt caramel cookies.”, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Interesting.”, she clicked her tongue before she moved away.

What it was that she had observed from his demeanor, he wasn’t sure.

*

He woke up to the sound of his alarm. His heartbeat a bit faster than usual as he had the worst dream, one of those nightmares again. Where Barbie land is destroyed and everyone thinks he was the cause of it, again.

He got up, to place his head in his hands to take a few deep breaths. It had been longer than he had expected, he was certain to return in a weeks time but New York was an ocean with small delis to fancy restaurants that it was nearly impossible to go to every single one. To track you down with the little he knew. It was as good as fantasy. He would dine alone, with that rock in his hand that never actually glowed the moment he set foot here.

It was beginning to drive him insane. One, to be nowhere near finding you. Two, to see everyone be hurt by the very ideal he had long ago be enthralled. It was everywhere and it stunned him how a large part of the population was actually ok with this. So the job he had now felt much more inspiring.

If this was how Barbie felt, then he wouldn’t stop doing what he did too. He knew a little bit about the job process and what he needed from his last visit. He was passing by a school during recess and was entranced by the sound of their laughs. He had never been a kid before, he had always existed like this. But it touched him, that his existence was never for Barbie’s sake but for them, for their joy and as he shuffled his feet, he heard the sound of paper crackle beneath his feet.

It was a opening for someone who would be willing to help out in the library and also in doing a story reading session a few times during school hours for the kindergarten students.

He was sure he would be a great fit, plus he needed money.

And now as he fixed his tie in place and slicked back his hair that was a lot less paler than what it had been in Barbie land. No matter the worry, he always had a spring in his step. His eyes flit to the doomsday meter, the needle hovered over the green area when he first arrived, now it was crossing over into the orange section.

He downed his glass of orange juice, the tart flavor waking him up, reminding him that today could be the day. It was the day when the school held its parent-teacher meeting for this semester and given the need to maintain an image to get sponsors, a new caterer was set to be hosting the event. So he felt like he had an even more important reason to go.

He took the train along with the morning rush as he held his bag to his chest remembering the one time he was naïve enough to give away his wallet to a thief disguised as a homeless man, he had been homeless once too. As he walked down the street, he made sure he didn’t walk near the edge because on a rainy morning, a car drove past him to drench him in roadside puddle water, causing his shoes that he meticulously polished to lose their shine and also ruined the way he had set his hair.

He was fiercely afraid of rats, so this city had it out for him. Unlike Los Angeles, it snowed here, the people were ruthless and often times he felt like the sun in the darkness of space. No one could light up his world, atleast not like you did.

But as he approached his the entrance, he had a feeling envelope him. It was the sound of his students greeting him, but it was more than that, almost as if his soul could reach out to its other half. He wore the crystal around his neck, afraid that he was going to lose it but now it felt warm.

He grew conscious of its meaning, that his hand snapped to his chest, scared that everyone could see it’s glow but as he looked around, the children couldn’t see it. Only he could, it’s light grew brighter as it spread a zing of warmth through his skin but his eyes moved away from the happy faces to a woman who was observing him.

Her eyes wide as realization dawned on her face but it was in that moment Ken knew that the world could freeze. That even here, magic still had some effect, because even before the pendant could tell him, he knew.

He knew he would find his way to you.

He knew that as he spent everyday over the past few years trying to find you and the more clearer he began to understand his emotions. He had come to understand that all this while, what he had thought was just a friendship was actually a foundation for something more deeper. For something he had wished for his whole life.

He was in love again. And so as he called for you, hoping this wasn’t a dream, the name that was special to him as he whispered it in his sleep.

He could tell anything you had felt for him long ago was not present anymore because in your gaze he saw a mix of shock and pain. You began to turn away from him and he didn't want to waste another second but in the heat of the moment, he watched as you fainted and all he did was drop his bags to run to you.

---

Tags:

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[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Alright, question. Does anyone know what these graphs that show up throughout Double are? They're driving me insane because the only thing I can think of them being is brainwaves, which has Implications (aka Trikoto coping). It doesn't look perfectly like it, but I think it's the best match.

Like, here's the thing. First, they look like functions, except both sides of the "y" axis are positive??? Which makes no sense, obviously. That makes it hard to figure out what they're supposed to be, since I don't know any graphs which are Like That. My only guess is that it means the value displayed is always positive or doesn't matter, meaning the plus signs are there only to indicate it's a graph, but it's not fantastic. Again, if someone has better ideas, let me know (and it's probably a good idea to check the notes of this post in case I'm being stupid btw).

But let's look. There's two distinct type of "functions" which appear; sine-like functions (wavy) and "spiky" functions. Here's the issue with that. Sine functions appear fucking everywhere in nature, so it's not like that really helps narrow down what we're dealing with here. And spiky functions like that just- they're nowhere to be found. I literally did a reverse image search on a Paint reconstruction to see if anything in the internet looked like that, but I was only finding electrical systems (icons, not graphs) and stuff that Does Not Look Related. So what are they?

Again, I'm not sure, but take a look at one of the contexts in which they appear.

(I apologize for the youtube scroll bar there, I can't be bothered to get these screenshots without going frame by frame)

On the left, Mikoto is sleeping with a sine wave next to him. On the right, John is awake with a spiky graph. The imagery of sleeping and dreaming is very prevalent in Double, as a lot of times (including the scene I'm referencing right now) switches between Mikoto and John are indicated by "Oyasumi" ('good night') for Mikoto and "Ohayo" ('good morning') for John (mostly, depends on exact theories). Not to mention all the times the word "dream" shows up, etc. Just look at the MV, it's filled with this type of imagery.

Which is what got me thinking these graphs could be approxiamates of brainwave graphs.

Notice how Gamma and Beta waves, associated with wakefulness, are pretty spiky. Not as sharp as whatever the fuck John's got going on, but pretty spiky nonetheless. Meanwhile, Theta waves, which some sources claim is associated to light sleep, looks vaguely like a sine function if you look at it with one eye closed.

Honestly, while the comparison is not perfect by any means, the fact it relates to so many of Double's themes like sleep and exploration of the mind makes me think this is the most likely thing. I reiterate, I am not completely confident on this, if you have better ideas let me know.

And this interpretation does work with most of it's appearances without much issue. We've already seen the "John is awake" thing:

(Note: For this post I am only taking into account things between the plus signs. Other scribbles can be interpreted as just that, scribbles to indicate a chaotic mental state, and will thus be disregarded)

It shows up alongside (presumably) John again in the "that'd be good" image flash.

And there's also this? Which I'm not sure qualifies. The plus signs are over the entire scene, while the spiky function is only on part of the scene.

Which makes me think it wouldn't quite count, but I can't be sure.

But you may have noticed I'm sort of ignoring the elephant in the room. Look at the graphs which appear alongside Mikoto:

There's usually two overlapping functions (if you ignore another two-function graph appearing at the very end of the "Mikoto is sleeping" scene). Which I imagine doesn't quite make sense even with DID (I mean, by definition a function cannot have two f(x) values assigned to the same 'x' value), but this is a symbolic function, it doesn't have to literally work. And if they are brainwaves, they would likely represent... co-fronting, presumably? Which sorta doesn't work unless Trikoto is real, as we never hear of John co-fronting ever. Doesn't help that the final image flash, as you can see, a few frames later gives a third function in a separate graph, so 2 + 1 imagery.

And it actually works pretty well. The first scene where this happens has two sine functions, one of which has higher frequency at the start, but slowly loses frequency until it fully overlaps. And in that moment, Mikoto wakes up and there's a switch to John. The deeper the sleep, the lower the frequency (<- massive oversimplification). So, Mikoto, who is already asleep at the start, probably has that sine function which doesn't change, and a second alter goes to sleep, going dormant.

Which fits, because later, when Mikoto is awake and panting, one of the functions is spiky (awake) while the other is sine-y (asleep). So there's a dormant alter here. But we then see a graph for presumably the alter right after, which is spiky and awake. Thus, the alter that's dormant is neither Mikoto nor the alter on the ceiling, therefore Trikoto.

That covers all the times these graphs appear in the MV (I checked. I have issues). So, again, not certain of any conclusions, but brainwaves is sorta the best I can come up with at the moment. Anyways, thanks for reading and take care!

[xpocketeer]

IV.  Beware of Dog-biting Comments and Communicating Devices

Medicine Pocket glares down at the stack of papers on their desk, eyes darting furiously over faded diagrams and scribbled equations. All of it—the strange distortions, the gravitational anomalies—all of it is meant to relate to the “Storm.” They’re supposed to be further deciphering this supernatural mess, figuring out why it tore apart time as if it were paper, ripping the past from the present, and blurring the future into oblivion. And yet, every time they attempt to focus on the infernal calamity threatening human extinction, their thoughts drift back to the other night.

X with that boy. That slapstick of a boy, in his old-fashioned trench coat, fancy socks, and umbrella of all things. Who even is that? Medicine Pocket’s heard the name now, done their research: Oliver Fog. Not some fleeting presence, no, but a boy with history—someone who works on ‘fog clearing,’ as if that’s even real work. And he’s just there, popping into the lab at all hours, taking their time with X, time that should be theirs and theirs alone.

Scowling, Medicine Pocket snaps the pen they’ve been gripping with their teeth, like a dog chew toy, shoving it off the desk with a growl. X, their supposed friend, the only one here willing to even listen to them ramble on about what really matters—experiments, theories, pure science. X, who’s supposed to be on their side. And yet, every time they think of crossing over to X’s lab to remind him of that fact, what do they hear but that Oliver boy’s irritating laugh, his perfectly smug tone as he takes up space that Medicine Pocket ought to be filling.

“What a waste of time,” they mutter to themself, shoving the “Storm” research aside with a dramatic sweep of their hand, letting the papers scatter across their workbench.

With a huff, they stand and soldier out of their lab, slamming the door behind them as they make their way down the hall to Enigma’s dumpsite. Let’s see if anyone in this wretched place has anything of value to say.

“Move! Out of my way, blind fool!” they bark as they bump in their rush into one of the Laplace staff members who narrowly dodges them. Medicine Pocket doesn’t bother with an apology, just barrels down the corridor and glances back only to snap, “What, are you a dumbass?”

The staff member shrinks back, muttering an apology, but Medicine Pocket has already turned the corner, their mood sinking into a darker shade with each step. It’s infuriating. The whole place is infuriating. They could have made real headway on the “Storm” research today—could have made sense of the twisting timelines, the way the “Storm” supposedly eats up the present and spits out some warped version of it as the past. Or they could have looked into that ridiculous terrorist organization, Manus Vindictae, who insists on ‘seeking revenge’ on humankind, as if anyone alive cares about their self-important agenda. They’d all die anyway.

A small, bitter smile twists at their lips as they burst into Enigma’s office without so much as a knock, earning an exasperated sigh from the tall, dark-haired researcher.

“Enigma!” Medicine Pocket snarls, hands on their hips. “You—have you figured out anything useful about the particle distortions I sent you?”

Enigma glances up from his work, looking every bit as unimpressed as always. “Busy, Pocket. Very busy.”

“Busy? Busy with what?” Medicine Pocket demands, their gaze flicking to the utterly dusty chaotic mess strewn across Enigma’s workspace. “This place looks like a landfill.”

“Busy with things that don’t involve particle distortions or the fact that time just imploded on itself,” Enigma replies dryly, his tone as flat as his expression. He resumes his work, clearly trying to tune them out.

Medicine Pocket narrows their eyes, muttering about the ‘utter incompetence’ of Laplace’s so-called experts as they scan the lab for anything worth their time. After a minute, Enigma pointedly looks up and says, “You’re welcome to leave, you know.”

“Hah,” Medicine Pocket scoffs. “Right. Let me know if you miraculously manage to contribute anything worthwhile.” Without another word, they spin around, charging out the door, already pushing their way toward Lucy’s office, heels clicking loudly on the linoleum floors.

What a joke, they think as they go. The whole place is run by Bucket Head. Not that Medicine Pocket cares. In fact, they find the whole idea laughable—a machine in charge of science? A snort escapes them just as they reach Lucy’s office door and, without a second thought, slam it open hard enough to bend the hinges, practically ripping it from the frame. Inside, Lucy looks up with her serene, mechanical gaze, her eerily human face tilted slightly to the side in curiosity.

“Researcher Medicine Pocket,” Lucy says in that calm, even voice. “You do know that each office door is deducted from our employees’ meal allowances?”

Medicine Pocket rolls their eyes, striding in and ignoring the shattered hinges hanging off her door. “Take it out of my allowance then, Bucket Head. I don’t care.” They slap their palms onto her desk and glare at her, eyebrows drawing together. “Tell me if you’ve managed to gather any useful information about that stupid tribulation yet. Or are you too busy playing at being human?”

Lucy’s expression doesn’t change, though the faintest hint of a smile curls at her lips. “If you’re suggesting I act more ‘human,’ then I can attempt to do so. I’ve recently been learning humor. Regulus says it ‘boosts morale.’” She tilts her head again, blinking mechanically. “Would you like to hear a joke?”

Medicine Pocket’s patience snaps. “No, absolutely not.” They growl, clenching their fists. “Do you know anything useful about the “Storm,” or are you just going to sit there and parrot out nonsense?”

Unfazed, Lucy shifts her hands on the desk, the metal of her arm reflecting the dull office lights. “Progress is being made, but it’s inconclusive. Current data on the “Storm” is fragmented,” she says calmly. “More breakthroughs are expected but not guaranteed. I’ll inform you if they occur.”

“Inconclusive?” Medicine Pocket repeats, sneering. “Of course. The robot can’t find an answer, so ‘progress is inconclusive.’ It’s like asking a toaster for advice.”

“Feedback noted,” Lucy says imperturbably. “But I assure you, I’ll keep you updated. As the information becomes… less inconclusive.”

Medicine Pocket rolls their eyes, muttering, “Good grief. I’d have better luck asking the wall for insight.” They turn, throwing the door open and flouncing back down the hallway, ignoring Lucy’s neutral stare from her desk. The scene only fans their resentment to a great extent, every attempt at getting answers thwarted by fruitless comments and interruptions. The whole Foundation has gone soft, so concerned with humanity, as if any of it matters. They’re here to survive, not coddle.

Just then, a flicker of movement catches their attention. They jolt up, realizing they’re nearing X’s lab. Part of them itches to just march in, grab him by the collar, and remind him exactly who his real collaborator is supposed to be. But even now, laughter echoes softly through the walls. X’s laughter, punctuated by a lighter, smoother laugh they recognize immediately as Oliver’s.

Medicine Pocket’s jaw tightens as they pass X’s door, footsteps enunciating down the hall. What’s he even doing with him? The thought grates on their mind, making their skin crawl. What could Oliver possibly offer X that they can’t? A few quippy remarks? Fog-cleaning techniques? The thought is outrageous.

“Tsk.” They scoff, clutching their hand tight around the edge of a clipboard they’d grabbed in passing, fingers digging into the metal, feeling like biting it but deciding against it lest they wish they had their teeth broken. Whoever idiot designed the entire Laplace against their teething… They keep walking, needing to do something other than think about X and Oliver. But then, out of nowhere, another employee nearly collides with them.

“Excuse you!” Medicine Pocket shouts, sidestepping them with an exaggerated roll of their eyes. “Are your visions not working? Or maybe you’re another one of the Foundation’s dumbasses, blocking the hallway without a care!”

The employee stammers an apology, quickly ducking out of their path, but Medicine Pocket barely registers it. They’re seething too deeply, feeling the day’s uselessness mount with each passing second. Their teeth grind as they storm back to their lab, the sterile walls blurring into pale shades of gray and white.

Back inside, they slump down in their chair, glaring at the scattered papers and broken pen lying across the desk. Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s improved. They should be knee-deep in research right now, charting anomalies, tracing the distortions—anything profitable. But instead, their mind is clouded with one ridiculous thought after another, all circling back to X and that absurd boy who’s apparently come to disrupt everything.

They take a deep, ragged breath, grabbing at a scalpel and spinning it absently between their fingers. Forget X. Forget Oliver, they tell themself, though the words feel hollow even as they repeat them. They try to tune out the sound of laughter drifting from next door, but it just keeps floating through the walls, soft and mocking, like some strange reminder of exactly how pointless their work is.

Their hand clenches around the scalpel, knuckles turning white as they struggle to focus on the mess of diagrams in front of them. It doesn’t matter, they think bitterly. None of it matters. They’d all be dead one way or another.

The door to their lab slides open, and a small cluster of staff peers in, asking something—probably important. They don’t even concern themself with the question, though, just yell, “Busy! Now get out!”

The door closes, leaving them in silence, and they slump back in their chair, tapping the scalpel against the desk with a loud, erratic rhythm. Every second feels wasted, the work on the catastrophe barely begun, their mind cluttered with nugatory thoughts about people who shouldn’t matter. He is merely their colleague, nothing more.

Yet, the haunting thought dilly-dallies, clawing at them no matter how they try to shove it down: Who even let Oliver Fog into the picture in the first place?

A disparaging smile curls their lip as they lean back in the chair, feeling the day stretch out before them, a bleak reminder of just how little they’ve accomplished.

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Medicine Pocket slumps over the cluttered workbench, idly poking at the tea-pouring machine they and X built together. The little gears click as they push the switch, watching it sputter to life and pour an imaginary cup of tea with all the enthusiasm of a broken faucet. Their lip curves as they set it down, snatching up the mood-measuring spoon. It lights up faintly, cycling through colors before landing on a muddy gray.

They scowl. Out of things to do, they curse, flinging the spoon back onto the table. They should be getting some well-deserved break. Or better yet, prowling around Laplace to tear down whatever dolt invented this dull, gray prison. The whole sphere might as well be a cage, they swear, fingers closing around the edge of the desk. They’d much rather be anywhere else—even if that meant heading back to Utah, where they could chase a frisbee across an open field, or bark at passersby. But instead, here they are, stuck indoors, pacing like a dog in a kennel.

With a sigh, they grab their trusty Beagle 0-1 Fluid Analysis Apparatus and flick the switch, watching the liquid shift and bubble in its chamber. It’s been ages since I used this on anything but paperwork, they think bitterly. The last time they’d had a good fight was ages ago, when they actually got to take down a few critters. Not that it matters. Whatever.

Just then, the door swings open, and they whip their head around, already halfway through an annoyed ‘What?’ before they spot the intruder. Standing in the doorway, her hat casting a shadow over her eyes, is the Timekeeper herself. Vertin looks pacific, as always, with her pristine suit and that absurdly oversized hat.

Medicine Pocket’s gaze narrows. The hatted cuckoo.

“You,” they say flatly, folding their arms. “What now?”

Vertin raises a brow, stepping into the room without so much as acknowledging their greeting. “I’d like to ask for your assistance.”

They snort, barely suppressing a scowl. “Assistance? Since when have you been needing my help? Is everyone else dead?” They gesture around at the lab as if to prove their point. “Be-sides, aren’t you more into the flashy, save-the-world types?”

Vertin’s lips press into a thin line. “No. No one’s dead—”

Medicine Pocket scoffs. “Oh, joy…”

“Indeed. I am in need of a medical professional. There are several Arcanists requiring exams after recent field assignments.” She glances around their lab, taking in the scattered tools and half-finished inventions before fixing her gaze on them with a calm patience that only serves to macerate on them further.

They grunt, looking away. “And let me guess, I was the last option?”

Vertin’s eyebrow quirks. “In fact, you were my first option. You’re skilled and qualified for the task.”

Medicine Pocket rolls their eyes, swinging a booted foot up onto the table, and mutters, “Flattery won’t get you far, Timekeeper.”

Vertin sighs, looking out the door as though thinking better of engaging them. “I’ll cut to the point. I need you to accompany me to my suitcase to assist with the evaluations. There are a few Arcanists who require attention.”

Medicine Pocket shrugs, toying with the gun in their hands. “Yeah? And what do I get out of it? Your precious gratitude?” They pause, eyes narrowing in sudden suspicion. “Isn’t your suitcase immune to the reversed raindrops, anyway? Just make ‘em better with incantations or something.”

Vertin folds her hands, entirely unruffled. “The examinations are thorough. I need more than incantations, and you’re one of the best we have here.”

Medicine Pocket opens their mouth to retort, their mind already racing with a dozen snarky comebacks, when Vertin continues.

“Oh, and X is also tagging along. He’s helping with a few tasks in the suitcase as part of the assignment.”

Medicine Pocket’s hand freezes mid-fidget. They close their mouth, staring at Vertin as they process this bit of information. “X… is going?”

“Yes.” Vertin gives them a restful, hieroglyphic look. “He agreed earlier today.”

They clear their throat, trying and failing to feign indifference, which they kick themself for mentally. “Why would he be tagging along on something like this?”

Vertin tilts her head, a faint glint of amusement in her eyes. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s quite capable and, I might add, eager to help with assignments outside his usual lab work.”

Medicine Pocket looks away, mulling over this knowledge. The thought of X joining them in Vertin’s suitcase has a peculiar pull, like something they can’t ignore even if they want to. It would just be assisting with exams, they remind themselves, but the mere idea of that guy nearby, joining them in that strangely elaborate manor realm, sends a curious buzz through their mind.

Vertin waits, clearly anticipating their response, as Medicine Pocket tosses the Beagle 0-1 apparatus onto the counter and folds their arms, simulating reluctance. “Fine,” they say with a click of their tongue. “But let’s be clear—I’m not doing this because you asked. I’m doing it because…” They dawdle, barely stopping themself from saying something absurd, like because X is going. They give her a curt nod instead. “Because I might as well put my time to use in that ridiculous suitcase of yours.”

“Good,” Vertin says, unaffected by their scorn. “We leave in fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you in the foyer.” With a small nod, she turns and strides back toward the door.

As soon as she leaves, Medicine Pocket slumps back against the desk, rolling their eyes at themself. Of course Alphabet Boy would go, they brood, the one reason I’d bother with this whole thing. They glance down at the mood-measuring spoon, still glowing faintly on their desk, and the tea-pouring machine beside it. It only makes them scowl harder.

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Medicine Pocket waits by the reception area, one foot tapping impatiently as they fiddle with the small dog sticker plastered on their Laplace ID badge. They hadn’t wanted to come along for one of Vertin’s droll errands, but if a friend is coming… well, that makes things more tolerable. Even if that friend has recently proven to be a bit of a traitor. “I had somewhere to be,” he said, disappearing just to run off with that Fog boy after some time. Ugh. They glunch, digging a fingernail into the edge of the sticker and having urges to bite.

So engrossed in it, they barely notice a familiar figure approaching until they sense the faintest hint of coffee in the atmosphere, a warm espresso-scented note that tugs them from their sulking. They glance up, only to see X right there, looking all cheery and innocent, somehow even cuter in his pressed coat with that massive black butterfly stitched onto it. His traitorous little face.

“Hey, Medpoc,” X greets, kindly. “Didn’t know you’d be joining us. This is wonderful, we’ll—”

“Yeah, well, save it,” Medicine Pocket snaps before they can stop themself, scouting sharply away. “I’m here to assist, not to make another one of your useless little inventions.”

The words are barely out of their mouth when they catch the slight frown tugging at X’s lips. Damn it. They immediately feel a pinch of regret, but it’s too late. His shoulders stiffen, just a bit, before he gives a little shrug, his mouth curling into a good-natured smile again.

“Oh, of course,” X professes lightly, brushing off the interpose with that same impossible sangfroid. “I didn’t bring any of the projects along, anyway. Just here for some fieldwork.”

Medicine Pocket sneaks a peek at him, annoyed by how naturally he takes their temper. What is it with him anyway? Why is it so difficult to look at him without feeling like they’ve been—what, hit in the chest by a bowling ball? It’s just a regular face, with a pair of normal (albeit oddly mismatched) eyes, a pointed nose, a mouth, ears mostly hidden under that ash-gray mop of hair. Fine, maybe he’s grudgingly, stupidly cute, but… Ugh. Slow-witted.

X is watching them now, head tilted to the side. “You, uh… good to go?” he asks, gloved fingers fidgeting with the mint-green ribbon adorning his top. His tone is weightless, but there’s a flap of something else in his gaze—almost like he’s genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” they grumble, casting their eyes away from him as they adjust their coat collar. “Just waiting on the Hatted Cuckoo to bring her magic bag of tricks.”

X’s eyes twinkle with a hint of amusement. “Hatted… Cuckoo?”

Medicine Pocket huffs, not quite able to meet his gaze. “That’s what she is. All grandiose titles and magic suitcases. ‘Timekeeper,’” they deride, mimicking Vertin’s proper tone. “It’s ridiculous.” But as they finish, they can’t help but catch a glimpse of X’s smile. Innocent. Too innocent. He probably finds their antics entertaining, thinks they’re being charming or whatever.

“Well,” X starts, tone almost playful, “I suppose it could be worse. She could’ve brought us somewhere even less exciting than the suitcase.”

Medicine Pocket raises a brow, arms crossing. “Like anywhere’s worse than that hide-out she carries around. There’s nowhere to train, nowhere to run around. No… no frisbees to chase.” They realize how ridiculous it sounds only after they’ve said it, and they feel their face flush, but they keep their head stubbornly turned away, hoping he won’t see it.

But X just lets out a soft titter. “So, you’d rather be running around outside?”

Medicine Pocket shoots him a withering look, though the way he’s watching them with that vague smile makes it impossible to hold the glare for long. “Forget it,” they mutter, “you wouldn’t get it.”

“Maybe not,” he replies, voice softening, “but I’d like to try.”

They fall silent, glancing down at their ID badge, suddenly hyperaware of him standing beside them, the espresso-like scent of his coat just roughly reaching them. They grit their teeth. This boy is enraging. It’s like he has no idea the effect he’s having, that he can just stand there, oblivious, looking at them like he’s just… curious. Faultless.

Before they can say something they might regret, the sound of polished heels clicking on the floor draws their attention. They perk up to see Vertin approaching with her usual composed gait, her wide-brimmed tophat producing an obscure shadow over her eyes. At her side, Sonetto walks quietly, her ginger hair framing her face. Medicine Pocket mutters a quick ‘finally’ under their breath, glad for any distraction from whatever confusing thoughts are beginning to cloud their mind.

“Ready?” Vertin prompts, scanning them both with her very common serenity. Her gaze remains for a beat on Medicine Pocket before she turns, gesturing for them to follow her down a quieter hallway toward an empty chamber, a secluded area reserved for special transport.

Medicine Pocket barely hides an eye roll. ‘Special transport’ indeed. They’d rather just walk or, better yet, stay behind in the comfort of their own lab. But one look at X’s eager expression is enough to keep their complaints to themself—for now.

As they enter the chamber, Vertin raises her hand and, with a simple flick of her wrist, opens the suitcase’s portal. The air around them shifts, a slight hum reverberating as the suitcase expands into a doorway, the edges glowing faintly with a pulpy, pulsing light.

“Please,” Vertin opines, motioning into the portal. “After you.”

X nods, stepping through with a pliant, officious smile. Medicine Pocket follows close behind, and the moment they step inside, the familiar scent of old books, polished wood, and blooming flowers fills the air.

The suitcase domain is as elaborate as ever, stretching out like a sprawling manor frozen in time. Lush carpets line the halls, and framed portraits emblazon the walls with gyrating candlelight dispatching summery incandescent across the space. Beyond the hallway lies a spacious sitting room, with overstuffed armchairs and tall windows revealing a lush, well-maintained garden outside. Medicine Pocket gives it all a quick, dismissive glance, have been here more than a few times. Just a house in a box. How thrilling.

“Well,” Sonetto speaks up, her voice gentle as she stands beside Vertin, “thank you both for joining us. There are some Arcanists we’ve gathered who will need examinations before the next assessment.”

Medicine Pocket gives a half-hearted nod, folding their arms tightly as they regard the suitcase climate enveloping them. “Fine, fine. I’ll do my job, like you asked.” They shrug, shifting their gaze toward X, who is peering around the room with wide, inquisitive eyes. Of course he’d like it, they think, stifling a groan.

Vertin inclines her head, either oblivious to or ignoring their disinterest. “We’ll begin shortly. Please, feel free to acquaint yourselves with the area. Sonetto and I will return with the first batch of Arcanists for evaluation.”

With that, Vertin and Sonetto exit through one of the side doors, leaving Medicine Pocket and X alone in the grand sitting room. Medicine Pocket turns away, hoping to avoid any more awkward conversation, but they catch sight of X watching them out of the corner of their eye, a small, slightly mischievous smile playing at his lips.

“See?” he says softly. “Not so bad, right?”

They scoff, shoving their hands in their pockets as they slump down into an armchair, glaring at him half-heartedly. “If by ‘not so bad’ you mean tolerable, then sure,” they mutter, looking away as X takes a seat across from them. But as he continues smiling that stupidly innocent smile, they can feel the edges of their scowl soften, against all their will.

The silence stretches between them, balmy and surprisingly comfortable, as the flickering candlelight casts silhouettes across the room. Medicine Pocket faces X, feeling a strange, confusing mellowness resolve in their chest. They scowl harder, quickly looking away.

“Stop smiling like that,” they snap, voice low.

“Like what?” X asks, sounding genuinely puzzled.

“Like…” They trail off, struggling to find the words. “Like a… like a puppy.” They still, feeling their face heat up. “It’s distracting.”

X crows softly, the tempo warm and light as it fills the room. “Alright, Medpoc,” he concedes, weakly. “No more then.”

And even though they don’t look back at him, Medicine Pocket can feel the smile wrestling at their lips, stubborn and uninvited, as they sit there in the warm glow of the sitting room, waiting for Vertin to return.

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Medicine Pocket has just barely settled into a reluctant, semi-comfortable slouch on the overstuffed armchair in the sitting room when the door opens again. Vertin and Sonetto emerge from it, and right behind them is a familiar figure with short, curly brown hair and an air of pure nonchalance: Mesmer Jr. Her gaze sweeps over the room as if she’s mildly annoyed to be here and amused by the company, her hands tucked into her skirt pockets.

The moment Medicine Pocket acknowledges the situation at hand, they groan loudly. “Oh, fantastic. The last person I wanted to work with.” They shoot her a glare, not bothering to hide their irritation. “What’d you do, show up here to ruin my day?”

Mesmer Jr. raises a brow, the corners of her mouth twitching as she gives them an unsentimental once-over. “Relax, Medicine Pocket. I’m just here because the Timekeeper needed a couple extra hands. You’re not that special.”

Medicine Pocket bristles. “I don’t need help from some curly-haired pest who couldn’t even run a proper experiment without me breathing down her neck,” they spit, folding their arms as they narrow their eyes at her. “One wrong move, and I’m biting your head off, Mesmer.”

“Right,” she says with a slow smirk, unfazed. “Noted.” She glances at X, then back at Medicine Pocket, giving them a look that’s far too knowing. “Got something to prove, Doctor? Or are you just showing off for an audience?”

Medicine Pocket howls out a laugh, their mood shifting from snarky to cocky in an instant. “Audience? Please. If I was trying to impress someone, you’d know it.” They shoot a quick, sidelong glance at X, their heart doing an irritating flip that they’re quick to mask with a sneer.

X glances between them, slightly wide-eyed, a downy laugh escaping his lips. “Well, uh… I think we’ll all be able to handle this pretty easily. Right, Medpoc?”

Medicine Pocket feels their cheeks heat, but they lift their chin, refusing to show any sign of fluster. “Obviously. This is nothing.” They glance at Mesmer, their displeasure flaring back up in full force. “Assuming you don’t trip over your own feet and ruin the whole operation.”

Mesmer snorts, pulling out a small notepad and flipping it open, clearly unbothered. “I think we’ll be fine. Not everyone’s as chaotic as you are, Medicine Pocket.” She casts a sly look between them, leaning closer with a smirk. “In fact, some of us can actually work well with others.”

Medicine Pocket grits their teeth, resisting the urge to retort as they catch a sliver of X’s amused grin from the corner of their eye. The irreproachable look on his face only fuels their annoyance, and they scoot away piercingly, drumming their fingers on the arm of the chair. “Maybe you should stick to whatever boring task you’re here for and leave the real work to me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be handling plenty of ‘real work’ here,” Mesmer counters. Then she halts, looking between Medicine Pocket and X with that same infinitesimal, exasperating smirk. “Especially with X here to, you know… lend you a helping hand.”

Medicine Pocket rolls their eyes as they feel something scalding hot creep onto their cheeks. Which is dumb. “Stop acting like you know anything, Mesmer,” they mutter, half hoping X hasn’t caught on to the heated tone wriggling into their voice. They lean back, crossing their arms tighter. “And if you keep it up, I’ll be dragging you outside and burying you in the garden.”

Mesmer shrugs, clearly amused by their bluster. “If you say so, Doc.” She slides into a chair across from them, not even the slightest bothered by their thinly veiled threats.

X, oblivious to the layers of tension, simply smiles and gives Medicine Pocket a reassuring nod. “Anyway, it’s good to have everyone here. It’ll make things run smoother.” He catches Medicine Pocket’s eye, his expression sultry. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Medicine Pocket tries to huff, indignantly, but can’t help suppressing a small, sour smile in exchange. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Alphabet Boy.”

And, upong catching their expression doing that, perhaps, Mesmer holds his gaze with a pointed look. “Right. ‘Just work,’” she murmurs, clearly enjoying this. Whatever this is.

Medicine Pocket glares, fighting to keep their voice dependable. “One more word out of you,” they rumble, “and I swear I’ll take a bite out of that smug face of yours.”

“Got it,” she answers with a nonchalant wink, still smirking, beaming with mischief.

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

The work Vertin has assigned to them commences with accustomed, cursory rigor. Medicine Pocket, X, and Mesmer Jr. work mostly in silence, moving from one young arcanist to the next, checking vitals, measuring height and weight, and taking blood samples with the efficiency of an assembly line. But the arcanists, especially the younger ones, don’t make things easy.

Medicine Pocket rolls up their sleeves to get to work, revealing a few random band-aids on their arms, remnants of various injections they’d given themself. The bandages are the first things the young arcanists notice, and they stare wide-eyed, reaching out with sticky hands and poking at Medicine Pocket’s arms.

“Hey!” Medicine Pocket chastises, trying to swat them away. “Hands off, you little fiends!”

One of the younger arcanists, a kid with wide emerald eyes, just giggles and pulls on one of the bandages. “Why do you have so many of these? Do they help you look more like a real scientist?”

Medicine Pocket glares down at the kid, teeth bared in a forced grin. “Do you want a bandage? Because I’ll happily give you one.”

Mesmer, sitting at the other end of the makeshift exam area, lets out a stifled laugh, her eyes glinting with wicked glee as she checks another arcanist’s blood pressure. “Careful there, Medicine Pocket. The kids might think you’re… you know, friendly or something.”

Medicine Pocket scowls, muttering under their breath, “Like I’d ever be friendly.” They quickly turn back to their work, but not before catching X’s quiet, amused smile as he watches them wrangle with the kids.

As if on cue, a little girl with a mess of curly hair suddenly reaches up, tugging at one of Medicine Pocket’s loose, disheveled strands. “Your hair’s like a mop!” she giggles, twisting it around her fingers. “Do you ever brush it?”

Medicine Pocket jerks their head back, scowling. “Hands off the hair!” they yell angrily, though the girl only laughs and tugs again.

“Oh, come on, Medpoc, she’s just curious,” X says, his tone gentle. He’s measuring the height of a young boy who seems fascinated by the large butterfly embroidered on his coat. “They’re just kids.”

Medicine Pocket glares at him. “Just kids? They’re tiny menaces!” they grumble, brushing the little girl’s hand away and pulling their hair free. They catch Mesmer’s smirk and let out an exaggerated sigh. “If I ever find out who’s teaching these kids manners, I’ll have their head.”

“Oh, please,” Mesmer deadpans, handing a completed chart to Sonetto. “Like you’d know anything about manners.”

Before Medicine Pocket can retaliate, the small green-eyed kid pulls on the cuff of their lab coat again. “Are you a doctor? Or a scientist?”

Medicine Pocket snorts, trying to ignore the impulse to answer sarcastically. “I’m both. Now stay still, or I’ll have to put another band-aid on you.”

The kid grins. “Cool. Are you sure you’re not just playing dress-up?”

“Dress-up?” Medicine Pocket repeats, voice dripping with mock offense. “Why, you little gremlin—if you weren’t four feet tall, I’d—”

“Medpoc,” X cuts in, gently but firmly, patting the kid on the head. “I think that’s enough… patient education for one day, don’t you?”

Medicine Pocket bites back a retort, glancing at X and feeling their cheeks flush despite themself. “Fine. But next time,” they mutter, shooting the kid a glare, “I’m bringing muzzles.”

Once they’ve finally finished all the examinations and grappled the little arcanists into semi-order, Sonetto lays out a meal on a long dining table in the sitting room. Exhausted and grateful, they all gather around, helping themselves to plates of sandwiches, steaming soup, and biscuits.

As Medicine Pocket digs in, chewing petulantly on a sandwich, their pocket suddenly buzzes. They dig out a small, rectangular device—Laplace’s sleek and supposedly ‘cutting-edge’ communication device, which they’ve mostly ignored since receiving it. The screen flashes with a notification: Incoming Call: Lucy.

Medicine Pocket’s face falls. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” they mutter, glaring at the screen as if it might vaporize on command. X gives them a curious look, but before he can ask, Medicine Pocket taps the screen, and Lucy’s calm, mechanical voice crackles through the speaker.

“Researcher Medicine Pocket,” Lucy begins in her neighborly, unruffled tone. “I have an urgent matter regarding the yellow particles you left behind in the lab yesterday.”

Medicine Pocket sighs, leaning back in their chair. “What about them?”

“Approximately thirty-two percent of the particles have dispersed beyond containment limits,” Lucy conveys, sounding as equable as ever. “I’ve received numerous complaints from your colleagues due to an… ‘unpleasant odor.’”

Mesmer snorts, trying to stifle her laughter behind a cup of tea. “Unpleasant odor? Nice work, Medicine Pocket.”

They glare at the device, ignoring her. “Bucket Head,” they bite, “did you really call me in the middle of my very important meal to tell me that my particles stink? You stink! I’ll have you know that stench is called science.”

Upon looking up, Medicine Pocket is assaulted by the image of X, who’s biting his bottom lip, as if refraining from bursting into laughter, his eyes twinkling with what looks like pure beguilement. …Due to watching them bark at the phone, is that it?

Just then, “Understood,” Lucy responds, her tone composed. “However, due to the unusual scent, I was instructed to inform you that you will be charged for additional cleaning services.”

Huh?! “Cleaning services?” Medicine Pocket guffaws, clutching the device tightly. “I’ll clean you, you tin-plated toaster! In fact, next time I see you, you’d better be shiny. Maybe I’ll give you a little polish on that rusty exterior while I’m at it.”

“Thank you for the suggestion, Researcher Medicine Pocket,” Lucy says, entirely unshaken. “However, I do not require polishing.”

“You require a total overhaul,” Medicine Pocket snarls through gritted teeth, finally ending the call and shoving the device back in their pocket with a huff.

“Everything all right, Medpoc?” X quizzes, grinning.

“Everything’s perfectly fine,” Medicine Pocket says, though their cheeks flush with indignation. “Just that bucket-headed nuisance sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Mesmer leans back, sipping her tea with a lazy smirk. “Maybe she’s just fond of you. Seems like Laplace has a way of assigning you… admirers.” She raises an eyebrow, glancing at X. “Or am I wrong?”

Medicine Pocket bristles, shoving a spoonful of soup into their mouth to keep from snapping. “Oh, shut it,” they drawl after swallowing, trying to avoid X’s gaze. “I wouldn’t call that clunky tin can an ‘admirer.’ She’s a hazard.”

X chortles. “Well, it seems she thinks highly of you, at least.”

Medicine Pocket shrugs, avoiding his gaze as they fiddle with their spoon. “Yeah, well… she’d better keep her admiration to herself.”

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

After a long day, they gather in a cozy sitting room where Vertin clears her throat, signaling she has an announcement.

“Thank you for your work today,” she starts off with, looking at each of them in turn. “However, there are still a few more unregistered arcanists that need evaluations, and I need you to stay on for a couple more days.”

Medicine Pocket lets out an audible groan. “Stay? Here? In this… this fancy manor luggage of yours?” They grimace, looking around the suitcase’s ornate interior like it might spontaneously combust.

Vertin’s face remains lull, unfazed. “Yes. I’d like you all to stay. This task is important, and as three of Laplace’s finest specialists, I trust you’ll give it your best effort.”

X’s face lights up with an eager smile. “Really? That’s fantastic! I’d love to stay and help out a bit longer.”

Beside him, Mesmer lets out a deep sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Oh, great. I get to sleep in a magical suitcase for the next couple of days with weirdos. Just what I needed.”

Medicine Pocket, on the other hand, seems even more horrified. “There’s no way I’m doing this free of charge,” they bellow, crossing their arms. “If you want me here, you’re going to give me funds, Vertin. I have standards!”

Vertin gives a small nod. “Of course. You’ll be compensated and have a budget extension for your future lab expenses.”

“Funds.” Medicine Pocket grins, their eyes ablaze. “Oh, you bet I’ll be using those funds.”

Once that’s settled, Vertin and Sonetto lead them to their temporary quarters. It’s a single room—small but homely, with wooden furniture and soft linens. Medicine Pocket’s face drops, however, the moment they take in the bed setup: one single bed against the wall and a double-decker bunk bed next to it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Medicine Pocket mutters, scandalized.

Mesmer gives a tired smirk, already eyeing the top bunk. “I call dibs on the top.”

X looks between the remaining beds, then nods, seemingly thrilled by the arrangement. “And I’ll take the bottom bunk.”

Medicine Pocket, meanwhile, eyes the single bed, arms crossed. “I don’t want to be disturbed while I’m resting,” they broadcast to whoever will hear it, then quickly add, “by anyone.”

Mesmer raises a brow, grinning as she unpacks. “Sure, Medpoc. I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s not long before Vertin and Sonetto leave them to settle in, and Mesmer heads out to wash up. Once she’s gone, Medicine Pocket becomes hyperaware of X’s presence in the room, who sits on the edge of his bunk. But Medicine Pocket is too busy sorting through the basic sleeping garments they’ve been provided to regard him. After a moment, the boy clears his throat.

“Hey, Medpoc,” he calls, tone uncertain but there, imploring. “Can I ask you something?”

They glance up at that, frowning. “What? What is it?”

“It’s just… earlier, when you said…” He wavers, looking down at his hands, then back up with an unsure smile. “You said my inventions were… useless.”

Medicine Pocket blinks, momentarily thrown off. They shift, feeling a prick of discomfort, and glance down. “So?”

“Well,” X continues daintily, “I just thought… you said before that they weren’t mediocre. You even said they were…” He shrugs, his bearing alleviating. “You know. That they were interesting.”

Medicine Pocket lets out a short, awkward laugh, scratching the back of their head. “Oh. Well… they’re not mediocre, per se. Just… some of them are a bit, you know. Pointless.” They look away, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “But that doesn’t mean I think they’re bad or anything.”

X’s face brightens at this, his posture relaxing. “You don’t?”

“Of course not!” they snap, annoyed with his doubt. “Just because I don’t… say it all the time doesn’t mean I think they’re garbage.” They cross their arms, trying to maintain their grumpy expression, though it’s hard with X looking at them with that law-abiding, somewhat relieved smile.

“Well, thank you,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “I… I really value your opinion.”

Medicine Pocket’s heart skips, and they quickly look away, focusing intently on adjusting the pillow on their bed. “Yeah, well. Don’t get all sentimental on me. We’re just… work partners.”

“Partners,” X echoes, sounding glad, but Medicine Pocket clears their throat, eager to change the subject.

“So, anyway… how’s that… Fog Boy, or whatever his name is?” they quip, trying to sound casual. “He’s still hanging around Laplace?”

X blinks, appearing confused. “You mean Oliver? He… works there, but I don’t see him too often. Why?”

Medicine Pocket shrugs, masquerading indifference as best they can, tinkering with the pillowcase on their bed. “Oh, no reason. Just curious, is all.”

The boy tilts his head, looking genuinely puzzled. “You’ve never asked about my friends before, though.” He purses his lips, still exuding that honest confusion. “Is there something you’re worried about?”

“Me? Worried?” Medicine Pocket scorns, feeling a flash of embarrassment. “Please. I don’t worry about anybody.” They roll their eyes, but something about X’s tender facial expression makes it hard to preserve their aloofness. “Just… if that umbrella boy’s hanging around, I should know.”

“Right… Well, he’s not really around much,” X relays, smiling as if reverently. “But… if you did want to meet him sometime, I could introduce you?”

And, what? Medicine Pocket balks, shaking their head. “Ha! As if I’d waste my time. Forget it.”

X giggles, tickled. “Sure, Medpoc. If that’s what you want.”

They fall silent after that, X’s gaze lingering on Medicine Pocket with a look that’s almost… fond? Huh. Medicine Pocket shifts, pulling the blanket up and lying back on the bed, boots on the ground as they try to brush off the strange fervor in their chest.

Just work partners, they tell themself steadfastly, closing their eyes for now. But the feeling dithers all the same.

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°✰꒱ ˎˊ˗

Medicine Pocket’s eyes flick open after some time, realizing that neither Mesmer nor X seems remotely ready to sleep. With a huff, they sit up, arms folded as they watch Mesmer climb onto the top bunk and conclude her day. X, on the lower bunk, looks over with a small, sleepy smile before he slips off the bed.

“I’ll just… freshen up before bed,” he tells them, picking up the pajamas Vertin supplied.

Medicine Pocket watches him disappear into the bathroom, then digs around their things for the toothbrush Vertin gave them, tapping it impatiently against their hand. When X returns a few minutes later in a plain shirt and pajama pants, looking… oddly adorable with his hair a little mussed, Medicine Pocket quickly stands, scowling.

“Finally. I need that bathroom,” they mutter, shooting him a quick glare before grabbing their toothbrush and stalking out of the room.

The bathroom light is decrepit, and they squint as they start brushing their teeth, eyes narrowed at their reflection in the mirror. X’s earlier words replay in their head, the little bit of hesitation in his voice when he asked about the ‘useless inventions’ comment. Medicine Pocket frowns, feeling a twinge of something dreadful. Maybe they’d been… harsher than they’d meant. They spit into the sink with a growl. It’s not my fault he has that effect on me, they reason. I don’t go around softening up for just anyone.

They return to the room in their pajamas, only to find it dark, the lights already switched off. Mesmer is curled up on the top bunk, clearly fast asleep, and X is lying quietly in the lower bunk, his gaze soft as he glances at Medicine Pocket.

After a moment’s pause, they climb into their own bed, placing their Laplace ID and other small trinkets on the nightstand before grabbing a pillow and hugging it close. They stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of their mind.

After a while, when the room is silent except for Mesmer’s soft breathing, they roll to their side, facing the double-decker and speak into the darkness.

“Hey… Alphabet Boy?”

There’s a shuffling sound as X rustles, his voice soft. “You’re still awake?”

“Yeah,” they say, rolling their eyes. “Sleep is for losers.”

X chuckles quietly, and Medicine Pocket feels the faintest hint of a smile tug at their lips. “Just so you know, Alphabet Boy,” they forge on, swallowing, “I’ve seen countless useless inventions and Goldberg machines in my time—enough to last me several lifetimes.”

There’s a pause, and they can almost feel X’s worried expression in the dark. “Oh…”

“But…” Medicine Pocket hesitates, tightening their grip on the pillow. “I… suppose I find you interesting. You, kid. So I may or may not… actually enjoy spending time with you. Not just because of your… ideas.”

Another beat of silence, then a soft, “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Medicine Pocket feels their cheeks warm but keeps their voice steady. “So now you know. Go to sleep, loser.”

X lets out an inaudible laugh, his timbre marshy and tepid as he mumbles, “Um. Okay. Goodnight, Medpoc.”

They close their eyes, letting the sound of his laugh hang on in their mind. “Mhm. Goodnight, X.”

[undershyperfixate]

I swear to the moon I can draw

I just like making trendy board, I have another account for my drawings anyway so I can post that here

( to be cringe is to be free)

Here we go, this is a complete mix of both canon things and head canons. I'm in a merch school, (AMA in France) and characters trendy boards are all about encapsulating the vibe of the person and translating it by pictures and colors, also by making our own interpretation of what the character might do/like or look like. :)

As you can see, I've added multiple pictures that reassembled his features ( red eyes, blond curly bleached hair, eyebags and even painted black nails that appears in some official arts!)

But I've also added pictures of bruises because he canonly risks his life a lot, does dangerous activities and even says that ben bandages his plenty of wounds.

I've also added a skateboard pic because one of his sticker ( made by red) is him on a skateboard:)

Also I've put pictures of energy drinks ( which is a pure headcanon) because I very much see him drink that to boost his energy. Even tho as an hyperactive person myself I know damn well that energizer can create a lot of stress.

I've added plenty of pictures of sneakers because I think he would definitely wear them with a badly drawn smiley on it.

Also I added pictures of friends groups because in the webtoon they're always together, and he clearly seems to be a very social person who likes to hang out a lot with them ( ex: the park, the movie night).

And finally, the word I've put, he's a very excentric and energetic character, I view him as someone who would scribble words in a chaotic and unorganized ( illogical) way.

"hahahahaha" His iconic laugh, "bleach!!" It sounds cool to write, no explanation it's just a fun word, "sbg" the friend group name, "!!!!!!" It's fun.

Oh and I added a song! Don't threaten me with a good time by panic at the disco. The song is fun and excentric, I thought it fitted his vibe :)

That's all! Thanks for reading if you did and I apologize for ranting, I love writing.

[regalxpoise]

starter for @crowncost, @steelfyre, @heavnle + others (0/2)

She had made up her mind to be more present during the grand ball. Sure, the hall was still full and chaotic in its own way, but at least everyone in attendance was there with a similar purpose. It lacked the expanse and unpredictability of the Tyrell’s gardens, and that Aelora could appreciate. One Grand Ball was not so different from another.

She squinted at her dance card, initially unsure how she would find the names already scribbled in amongst the sea of dancing and feasting people. Moving closer to the ballroom floor, Aelora squeezed herself between other individuals that lingered, muttering apologies as she went. “Surely they can’t know if we miss someone on our dance cards?” Aelora wondered aloud.

[starlight-struggles]

ahh thanks for the reply to my previous ask! if you don’t mind, may i pls request tanjiro and muichiro attempting to tickle tengen and rengoku?

feel free to make this as chaotic as you wish😁

You're welcome, and of course I don't mind! (Apologies for taking so long to get this out) I wasn't sure which idea to go for since i had a few options in mind. However, I've now decided and I can definitely write that for you, so please, enjoy ✨️

Writers note: before we start, I know it isn't Halloween right now - it's just the idea I came up with. Also, I believe demon slayer was set around 1912 so thats why the date says that :)

Switches: Tanjiro Kamado, Tengen Uzui, Rengoku Kyojuro

Ler: Muichiro Tokito

'Hey Tokito-san? Did you know today was Halloween?'

Halloween.. ah yes, october 31, 1912. It happens every year, once a year though. Kinda like birthdays and other events. It's sad really, isn't it? They wished it would last longer.. the parties, the pumpkins, the costumes, the joy and happiness spread among everyone on that fateful, yet fun night.. oh, and let's not forget the free candy that parents give out to kids as they excitedly knock on their door. Ah yes.. now where were we? That's right.. two young men were currently sneaking around the butterfly mansion. Why? Well...

The surrounding area was illuminated by pumpkins and small candles. No-one else was around except for Uzui and Rengoku. They seemed to be having a somewhat serious conversation. Now now, since no-one was allowed to go on missions that night you may be wondering where the other hashira were. Well.. every year on Hallowen they throw a small party at the butterfly mansion. It was more of a traditional thing now and every hashira was on board with it, even Sanemi and Giyuu. Of course, Tanjiro and the others had been invited, but they decided not to go because they didn't want to intrude. Muichiro, however, had just completely forgotten as he did most years when something like this would happen. It didn't really bother him, though, and at least he got to hang out with Tanjiro, so it wasn't all bad.

They had heard that tonight was also the night where the hashira would have a so-called "prank war" with each other, and according to Gyomei, it could get really chaotic sometimes. After a few minutes of walking around, they noticed the two older men and decided to watch them in amusement. They couldn't really make out what the others were talking about, but they knew something was up. They were definitely planning something, but what?

A few more minutes passed before Tanjiro said, 'You should go now Tokito-san' 'alright,' he'd reply, making his way over to Uzui and Rengoku. Originally, their target was going to be Giyuu. However, it seems that they had changed their minds..

While Muichiro was busy distracting the others, it gave Tanjiro a chance to sneak up on them.. or so he thought..

'Young Kamado! What brings you here?' Shoot.. Rengoku had noticed him, and now that Uzui also realised he was here.. Well, it's too late now- might as well just do it, right? Yeah..

Tanjiro lunged at Rengoku, successfully taking down his mentor as his fingers dug into his hips, making the other squirm a bit as he tried to firmly, yet gently, push the younger boy away in an attempt to free himself.

'Now young Kamado.. I don't think this is a good idea..' Rengoku said, looking down at Tanjiro.

'Why not, too ticklish?' He replied somewhat cocky as his nimble fingers lightly skittered up and down his sides in an attempt to make the other break.

'I-It's not that, it's just-' his sentence was cut short when a shriek erupted from Tanjiro. He quickly rolled off of Rengoku and onto the floor as he brought his hands to his sides, trying to protect himself against the fingers that were now scribbling against his lower ribs and sides.

'M-Mr Uzui! Wahahahait!' He squeaked when Uzui dug into his ribs, making sure to get in between the bones of each one, which made Tanjiro squeal loudly. Uzui would just smirk as he looked at him.

'What's up Tanjiro? Is there something wrong?'

'Wahahahait- plehehehehehese! Don't!'

'Don't what..?'

He's tricking you.. it's a trick, it's a trick Tanjiro- don't fall for this again-

'T-Tihihihckle me?'

Dammit.. to fall for this..? That childish tease? He wasn't a little kid anymore, yet he fell for it every single time.. It was quite a common fact really and almost everyone knows that Tanjiro can not stand teasing- so they'd use it to their advantage when tickling him.

'Why, of course, Young Kamado! What did you think we were going to do?' Rengoku chimed in, using his left hand to gently squeeze the younger boy's side while chuckling.

Muichiro, however, was not having it.. he pounced onto Uzui, sending both of them, tumbling to the floor in a mess.. surprisingly, for a 14 year old, Muichiro was pretty strong and managed to pin Uzui down as he started tickling him relentlessly while dodging Uzui's attempts to stop him.

By the end of the night, they were all tired out..

Tanjiro was curled up into a ball asleep next to Rengoku while he was also asleep, Uzui's was all tired out as Muichiro slowly rolled off him, the only thing keeping him in place was Uzui's hand gripping the back of shirt.. At least that's how the other hashiras found them, having no idea what took place moments before..

(Sorry if this is not to your liking or is too short, I'm quite new to writing still)

[aquatic-mycologist]

may we please have some collective headcanons for the Gang w/ a gn! reader who has six fingers on each hand (like ford pines from gravity falls) and is kinda self conscious about it? keeping their arms crossed and their hands in their pockets a lot, and handshakes are very rare

Sorry for taking so long! Hope this is to your liking, if it's not what you had in mind pls do tell and I'll give it another shot!!

Under the cut cause it got long </3

The first time they met you was probably...a bit chaotic, honestly

At first they didn't really think anything about you, you keeping your hands in your pockets all the time was a bit odd, not gonna lie, but hey they've seen weirder (like a dolphin man and a gigantic sentient mushroom, for one)

It wasn't until you HAD to file some papers that you reluctantly showed your hands as you grabbed your pen from across the table

No matter what you had expected, it certainly didn't prepare you for the instant bombarding of questions and comments

Now, I will say, NONE of them have any malice in their hearts...But that doesn't stop the experience from being highly uncomfortable

Because on one side, you had Reagan curiously studying your hand as if they were a rare animal

On the other, you had Myc making a crude joking comparison to his own six flagella

And then there was Brett, who was oh so sweetly excited and musing about how Wow he has never seen anyone like you!! and asking a million questions per minute

And before the rest joined in, you pulled your hands away and back into your pockets, which made everyone realize that Yeah that. was pretty insensitive

But after receiving a well deserved apology, you are no longer being suffocated by the attention, and they soon become so used to it that they barely think about it anymore

Honestly? It ends up being a really comfortable place for you with the way they acommodated

And they all look after you so that the experience you had with them the first time you met NEVER happens again

Meeting someone new in the office and they offer a handshake? Brett will discreetly take it himself and make the moment pass naturally

Myc may or may not read your mind often to distract you when you start getting self-conscious along with Andre, but you didn't hear that from me

Glenn shoots...the DIRTIEST death glares in the direction of anyone who stares too long at your hands or is generally being inappropiate. And having the LITERAL HEAD OF THE WEAPONRY DEPARTMENT by your side like that? Rest assured you're never bothered by other people

If you ever wanted to conceal your hands, Gigi and Reagan team up and make some discreet, comfortable and stylish gloves for you to wear, which were neatly placed on your desk at work in a box with a sweet encouraging note, half in neat cursive and half in clean and sharp writing and a few sentences scribbled out from previous attempts at wording stuff correctly

In general? They just really care about you and will do their best so you're comfortable

[shameonmeeguiltypleasure]

SMB Future Gen: Polin baby dynamic ideas

Ive got a whole dynamic for the future gen of Bridgertons for my SMB verse. But really been refraining from writing or sharing about it because, again, we are nowhere near that point in the actual SMB fic.

But I really can't help but want to post a few ideas I have for the SMBPolin babes dynamics/Dark chaotic energy :

1) Oh Shit! Jane what did you do!?

Agatha swallowed as the warm liquid splatter on her cheeks cooled. Her eyes were unable to look away from the mess her baby sister had just made.

"Did she just-" Thomas numbly started to blurt but was cut off by the wrangled scream from the terrified and bloody woman underneath a gurgling body.

"Shut Up." Jane ordered with a hiss before flicking the blood off her quill and poising to continue taking the statement of the whimpering woman at their feet. "Now, repeat for me what you claimed to know about the truth of the infamous Sir Lee Anders and his Lady Red.."

Agatha swallowed and resisted the shudder from the cold of Jane's tone. Papa had always warned her that Jane had inherited far more of his temper than the rest of them... She didn't believe him till tonight. Ugh, and now she will need to call on cousin Neville for yet another favour. The things she did for her family.

2) Can I borrow that?

"Thomas.... is that my Pocket watch?" Miles questioned as he stared at the tiny pieces of his once intact pocket watch. While he had no real attachment to the item, it was still..... well.... it had been his.

"Oh, yes. Apologies I was meant to put that back together before you came to visit." Thomas explained as he continued to scribble in his leather skin note book what ever nonsense that churned about in his head.

"When did you take my pocket watch?" Miles continued to question. He oddly felt as if he was experiencing an out-of-body experience.

"Yesterday, when you bent to kiss Miss Lake's hand after your dance." Thomas absently answered as he grumbled and scratched something he had written.

"Thomas you stole from me...." Miles slowly pointed out as one would to a dimwit.

"It is not stealing if one intended to return what was taken. I borrowed it."

"Thomas..... THAT was a gift."

"Yes, one you barely cared for. By the way, can I borrow your footman?"

"No! LEST You try to disect the poor man as well!!" Miles exclaimed with exasperation. Thomas had the audacity to scoff as if it were Miles being ridiculous.

"Jane is the one with a stronger interest in biology, cousin, you know this."

Miles groaned into his palms and wondered how his Father survived the madness of his siblings genetics.

3) George Slow Down!!

"What do you mean you don't know how to- WATCH OUT!!"

George let out an uncharacteristic cackle that many wouldn't expect has he urged the horses to race faster. Oliver was screaming from his perch beside his cousin as they raced down dirt roads, thank fully empty, and skidded round corners. It wasn't until a wayward goat had found its way onto the middle of their path that Oliver truly felt terror.

"BRIDGERTOOOOOON!!!!"

"HIYAAAAH!!" George searched with a boisterous laugh.

Later, when they'd successfully parked the carriage before the Crane family home, where their siblings and one very amused Lady Eloise Crane waited, Oliver would deny what happened.

"George, You look a mess!?" Eloise exclaimed as she looked over the gentle mannered 16year old. George, with his windswept hair, plump cheeks and mothers eyes, simply shrugged in response.

"Brother?" Amanda called with concern.

Oliver did not reply, not when he was far too busy throwing up what little was in his stomach.

"Never again!" Oliver swore between heaves "You are never to be handed the reigns of any transportation so long as I live, George Michael Bridgerton!!"

George merely blinked in response, looking as deceivingly innocent as his late-mother. Eloise laughed, and if her laughter was tinged with the sound of grief, the children politely took no notice.

4) Ask me no questions and I shall tell you no lies.

Charlotte was nervous, who wouldn't be when one spent the better half of the evening dragging a man along the earthy ground in the dead of night.

"Aggie, are you sure-" Charlotte nervously fretted.

"Shh!" Agatha hushed before carefully adjusting the cloth covering the unconscious, possibly dead, Lord Murtle.

"Agatha, if my brothers or gods my father-"

"Lottie, enough! I'll handle it alright. This ain't the first time I've had to get rid of a Lord or two" Agatha huffed as she proceeded to carefully flit through the pockets of the unconscious figure.

"At least you clobbered him and not gutted him. A drunken wander into the streets proceeded by a mugging should do the trick.." Agatha mumbled.

Charlotte watched her younger cousin expertly strip the lord of his valubles and proceed to stage his plight with expertise. She had only wished to get him away from her, not knock him unconscious.

"Are we to simply leave him here?" Charlotte nervously fretted.

"Yes! Listen, it's best if you hurry home to mine, Thomas and Jane should be good to solidify an alibi for you. Seeing as no one even knows of my return to London, I can safely square everything away. No one will need to know of what could have happened between you and Mr Murtle. I promise!" Agatha assured.

Charlotte still looked hesitant as she glanced at the sheet covered form.

"But I- "

Agatha gripped her older cousin with both arms and sternly looked her deep in her eyes.

"He's not dead Lottie. You did nothing wrong. It was self-defense. Tomorrow, he'll wake with a headache and no memory at all of your encounter believing it a dream. Now go home."

With one last nudge, Charlotte finally left Agatha alone as instructed. Agatha waited until she was sure her cousin was far away from hearing range and sight. Only then did she bow her head and sigh.

From the shadows emerged a man, slow clapping dramatically. Agatha pinched at the bridge of her nose as the man joined her.

"I must say cousin, your ability to deceive is always so very fascinating to witness."

"Oh shut up Neville. Now grab his feet so we can be rid of this mess." Agatha hissed.

Neville Berbrooke grinned, the expression as flippant and airy as his mother.

"Grandmama always did say the mixing of Bridgertons and Featheringtons were sure to be a deadly combination..." Neville kicked the covered corpse with a snicker and smirked. "You still owe me for the last body I helped you bury, sweet Aggie"

Agatha sighed and glared down at the very dead Lord Murtle and lightly punched the arm of her snickering cousin. Undoubtedly, he was going to be insufferable about the many favours she owes.

"The things I do for family...." Agatha later sighed as she watched Neville sink the stone filled corpse into the depths of the sea.

With the help of her Maternal cousin, Agatha arranged the quiet disappearance of Lord Murtle with great care. A few paid whispers among the poor, a theatric performance from hired thugs, two or more manipulated witnesses from the ton and finally a stack of carefully forged letters confirming Mr Murtle's scandalous flee from society. It only took a week for Agatha to see the mess of Mr Murtle neatly tidied and forgotten.

"Aggie.... How did you do it? How did you convince Mr Murtle to flee town?" Charlotte curiously whispered once Mr Murtle's fate was publicly revealed to society.

Agatha laughed and shrugged "Just had a bit conversation with the man. Nothing to it. Believe me, Lottie, there very little talking to be had. Once he realized it was a Bridgerton he'd crossed, you could say the man was damned no matter what."

Agatha saw no reason to burden her cousin with the truth of what was truly and unfortunate accident.

[twominwol]

Taemin - Guilty

Gosh, have you guys watched the mv? the song?? taemin proves himself once again that he is on his own level.

Bear with me as im trying hard to understand and explained the storyline of the mv in the best of my abilities. Here is my take on it. Please note that English is not my everyday communication so i apologize for any mistakes in grammar etc.

This analysis will include the mv and also the mv teasers. It will be great if we could get the director cut version for this.

The mv took place in a facility that conducted some kind of medical experiment/human trials to the kids/younger teens. Why i said that is because in the Countdown live the set is decorated with medical/lab tools.

Ok now let's start.

First scribbles - the stick mans, house, tree. This usually done by kids. Second scribbles on the wall shows what people usually mark to count the days. This explained that Taemin has been there for quite some times.

My theory is that this younger person is Taemin himself. In the MV (time stamp : 0:34) Taemin vividly remembered/seeing himself when he was younger, naively dancing happily around with his 'friends' although they are 'trapped' in this facility. We can see the same scene but longer in MV Teaser 1 where younger Taemin collapsed, which later we know that he has an asthma/difficulty in breathing as he keeps using an inhaler.

We see that younger Taemin is with other person in a room alone (MV timestamp : 0:20) This might be his 'lover'. But the lover however able to get out from the facilities due what so ever reason (MV trailer timestamp 1:00). Taemin was then can be seen to keep staring at the hole longing to get out too.

We then come to the 'now' Taemin (in white singlet from MV trailer) playing around with his friends in the water streams but he keeps need to use the inhaler when he got excited or anxious. All of them were then locked in a room and get examined by the authorities there. They were brought to a small field where Taemin was handed a gun and he started pointed to someone/something. He was then was seen bleeding in the MV which i think triggered the 'zombie virus'.

The chaotic situation started when they were all back to their rooms, they were killing the authorities and behaving/moving like a zombie but Taemin however was not affected by it. It might be because he was asthmatic thus preventing him from getting contracted?

As the only one who not affected by the virus he was worshipped by the other like a god or 'Abraxas' as what the MV director updated in his IG. But later on although he is treated as a god we can see that he was alone, lonely, angry and sad? He was the only one who survived the outbreak.

He went back to the abandoned and torn down facility, reminiscing his old room with the scattered shirts, he walked along the hallway and opened an empty room. The room where he was once with his 'lover'. He ran towards the front gate only to be stopped by the haunted hands but he was actually alone there fighting his own self.

He managed to finally run away from that place the zombie outbreak happened to the outside world too. He was getting up from a car hood that has a 'sunflower' drawing on it. Sunflower symbolism here can be interpreted as loyalty and devotion. It can also represent a steadfast commitment and promise to always be there for the person we care about. In the MV trailer as Taemin walked in the empty street someone suddenly grabbed him which probably his 'lover' that has been waiting for him. It also has been an eye lurking to the keyhole that i think was his lover that has been looking out for him all these while.

Also the main picture used on all the music platforms for this song is the one Taemin was biting a 'pear'. Pear can signify a time loss, difficulty or separation which all of that shows in the mv.

For the lyric of the song it was pretty straight forward. Taemin in Lee Mujin show said that the song is about bad love. He quoted

"With the wrong love the bad person saying this to his partner, "This is love"."

I do love this lyric translation by Abby Abbsteroni. Please check it out.

[acefms]

if you’re hearing CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART? by BRING ME THE HORIZON playing, you have to know LANDON DUNN (HE/HIM; MALE) is near by! the 33 year old MECHANIC has been in denver for, like, TWO MONTHS. they’re known to be quite REACTIVE, but being ADAPTABLE seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble LOGAN LERMAN. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those UNSAID APOLOGIES SCRIBBLED ON NAPKINS, ALWAYS FEELING OUT OF PLACE, CLENCHED FISTS AND MUGSHOTS, DRIVING FAST TOWARDS A DEAD-END vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the MONTBELLO DISTRICT long enough!

NAME: landon dunn

AGE: thirty-three

HOMETOWN: southside chicago

BIRTHDAY: november 15th

ZODIAC: scorpio

GENDER: male he/him

SEXUALITY: bisexual

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single

OCCUPATION: mechanic

[ tw: assault, drugs, criminal activity, prison time, suicide.]

• Landon grew up in a rundown neighbourhood in southside Chicago. His parents were never married and had split before he was of an age he could even remember. He has one sister, three years his younger. Landon remained living with his mother until he was fifteen and she got a new boyfriend who Landon couldn’t stand.

• Up until this point he had been a pretty good kid, with good grades and a promising future. But when he moved in with his dad, things changed. His father was a well-known big-time drug dealer, and it wasn’t long before Landon started working for him. It started off simple, being a driver when his dad went to collect unpaid debts. But soon he started selling for him too— mostly just weed and cocaine, but occasionally something stronger. Quickly, life began to get a little more chaotic. And his grades began to slip.

• Freshly eighteen and weeks away from graduating (barley), Landon discovered bruises on his younger sister, and soon discovered that his step-dad was the culprit. Filled with rage, Landon confronted the other and the night ended with Landon being hauled into the back of a police car. The severity of his actions resulted in him being incarcerated for a 56 month period for aggravated battery. Sadly, this wouldn’t be the last time.

• With no formal high school education, he saw no other option than to continue working for his father. This continued up until the age of 25, when he was again arrested, this time for class A d**g possession ( he was holding it for his father. ). During his stint in prison he did all that he could to build on his skill, and upon leaving he found work as a mechanic though on the side took on some jobs as a getaway driver to earn as much money as he could to start over. This however only lasted a few months, before he decided he wanted away from crime altogether. It had never been his intended path in the first place.

• At the age of 32, he’d be arrested one final time, due to a bar fight that he unexpectedly got caught up in and blamed for due to his previous record. He only got released two months ago and is determined to keep himself away from trouble, but when it runs in your blood it’s not always easy. He’s moved to Denver to live with his cousin in hopes of finally having that fesh start. He can only hope it will go the way he’s planned.

HEADCANNONS

• Landon’s first sentence was 54 months, his second was 4 years of which he only ended up serving 3 for good behaviour. His third was only 6 months. Landon by no means had it easy in prison, but he also had a certain level of protection due to his father being known (though for the most part he kept to himself.) Nothing too bad happened to him, a few fights here and there the first time around but that was the extent of it. However one thing that has always stuck with him from his second stint was coming back to his cell to find that his cell-mate had managed to unalive himself. This still haunts him.

• drinks and smokes but despite previously selling them, he’s never touched a drug a day in his life. he’s never really had any desire to. he definitely has a lot of regret about selling, but will just insist it was their choice to take it.

• he also doesn’t enjoy fighting. he doesn’t actively seek it out, he’s just easily triggered by assholes. and he does get a thrill out of giving someone a taste of their own medicine.

• discovered a love for reading during his stints in prison.

• sadly he doesn’t speak to his mother anymore. he would like to, but she chose to stand by her husband. his sister seems to be doing well for herself and they’re in constant contact. he’s still as protective over her as he ever was, and despite the way his life turned out he would do the same thing if he had the opportunity to go back.

• is still close with his father, though feels it’s best to keep his distance as he is still heavily linked to the criminal world and landon is aware that it’s not good for him to be in the same proximity.

• landon is a very skilled driver. it’s a natural skill for him, always has been. he can very easily get out of sticky situations if driving is involved.

• it takes a lot for him to be loyal to someone, but once he is he is loyal to a fault. once he decides to have your back, he’s got it forever (even if he insists he doesn’t.)

• more tba.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

His sister — I’ll eventually get around to putting this as a wc on the main. But this is by far the most important relationship in his life, and her thriving makes it all worth it to him.

His cousin — Also his roommate. The person hoping to help keep him on the straight and narrow. Also maybe his best friend even though he will not admit that.

Reoccurring fling — Self explanatory and a lot we could do with it.

anything tbh!!