#Reversed Number

[math1089]

The Power of Algebra in Finding the Missing Digit – Part 1

In mathematics he was greater than Tycho Brahe or Erra Pater.For he, by geometric scale, could take the size of pots of ale.Resolve, by sines and tangents straight, if bread or butter wanted weight;And wisely tell what hour of the day the clock does strike, by Algebra.Samuel Butler Algebra is a branch of mathematics that deals with symbols and the rules for manipulating these symbols to solve…

[hugsarethugs]

How does Agent Robotnik interact with other agents? Is it different before and after working for Doctor Stone? (Also ur art is so yummy and awesome sauce bro)

Think the only thing thats now different with Rob is how quickly his attention will switch to Dr. Stone while yelling at other agents he's in contact with

The others are grateful he won't stick around and "lecture" them fully

but man is it weird for them to see rob being happy around anyone

[repmet]

We just have to keep it very casual, of course.

[syrup-scribbles]

he didn't mean it

[enidtendo64]

Rev!dipcifica

[240vo]

this book is dedicated to maria hunting. an editor, a teacher, a friend.

[cedric-k-rossignol]

(2/?)

[hanafubukki]

Would you love me if you knew?

Thinking about time loop theory and all the yuus, thinking about how you are all the yuus.

But instead of forgetting every lifetime, you remember every single time loop, no matter who you are.

Once you were yuuken, then yuuka, then yuuta, then yuuya, etc (even the game Yuu)

And every timeline you remember, you try so hard to end it but you can’t. No matter what you do, the ending is always the same.

Back to the beginning. Something always going wrong and you and many others dead.

People would think you’d have given up by now? But you haven’t.

Not only because you wanted to escape the time loop, but because no matter who you were, no matter how you changed, they always loved you. They chose you.

Every single time.

You also wanted to save them.

It didn’t matter how, when, or where.

You would save them.

You’ll do whatever it takes to free everyone from this cursed fate.

Because no matter however long it’s been, they are yours and you are theirs.

[keferon]

HI so I couldn’t help but notice Prowl has the number 028 as his number, would you like to elaborate? *holds up microphone*

The number itself means nothing :) Just like the number for Mecha Jazz. I wanted them both to be "just another one" when it comes to their numbers.

The only lore it has is that Prowl was a pilot for much longer than Jazz because he is a support and therefore he survived for much longer than strikers. And. Well. That also means he probably buried a lot of assigned partners........

[titaniumions]

radiant, transcendental light shining down upon me

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

[syrup-scribbles]

Over with the other survivors

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Thankfully, Ablaze and Trickee got the kids away from group and over to the main gathering before Creek got there, although John Dory knows something is up... And sorry Trickee, but Viva says orange is the dad color.

[1111um]

"This is what success looks like."

(part i) (part ii)

[oneclickangel]

i would like to thank bluepoch personally for fueling my delusional ass with this line, mlm joe is real #lovewins

[reverse1999fics]

Hallo! I not sure request is open if is not feel free to decline this sorry! If is alright could i request 6 and medicine pocket separately with a shy and timid s/o who worries a lot and hides behind them doesn’t have any friends but likes to just be by their side most of the time and clings to them? Hope you have a nice day!

Woohoo! Back on that grind and cranking out requests!! They are open btw!!

Please forgive me if either of them are a little ooc! I don't have MP and I skipped through the story so I don't entirely know 6's personality all that well!!

Medicine Pocket & 6 w/a Timid/Shy S/O (separate)

Medicine Pocket is someone with a very flamboyant personality, always being able to speak their mind. They never quite understood why or how you could be so timid, but that didn't stop them from loving you all the same.

Their tall physic let off an intimidating aura to those who didn't know them properly, but to you it was a source of comfort. Their height makes it easy for you to hide behind, holding their hand or a part of their coat and trailing behind them like a child would play follow the leader. Of course Medicine Pocket had no issue with this, even taking pride in how safe you'd feel around them and only them.

No matter that you don't have many friends, neither do they due to how... Different they are to others, all they need is to be in your company they say. Others were frustrating and didn't understand what they were trying to say, what they meant, but you did. You always understood their words and actions, so you were the only person they truly wanted to be around.

Clingy? You? Clearly you've never met them because goodness only knows how much they love to be around you. Even if it were you just simply being in the same room as them, they want to be near you. You know them better than anyone else, understand their weird antics and never judge them for how they acted or what they did. That was something they held close to their heart, right next to you, so of course your affection is needed on a daily basis! Sit next to them while they work on projects or go through paperwork, lay your head on their shoulder, read a book on the couch they moved in the room just for you, take a nice nap, sit on their lap, let them sit on your lap! Anything, as long as you were with them.

6 is a person driven to perfection when it comes to his work, someone strict with his rules and follows them all to a T. You, are a slight exception though. Oh how adorable you are to him, holding onto his sash while standing behind him, cowering from the other numbers like a little kitten. He had a soft spot for you, that much was clear to everyone

Being of high status on the island, he was a busy person, usually so busy he comes off as a recluse. But never was he too busy to ignore you even for a moment. Come into his arms after a long day of interacting with people, sit in his lap and rest to regain your social battery while he works on equations and problem solving. Your battery recharges just as much as his does, so let him rest his head on yours for a moment but don't question his closed eyes. He's just letting them rest for a moment.

You need not worry about not having many friends, he wouldn't say he has many either, if any at all. You are his one and only, why pay attention to others when he has you to keep him company? He'd rather stay home with you by his side with a good book of philosophy rather than go out with others. His robes will keep you warm, so snuggle up to his side and read along with him if you do so please.

His personality severely contradicts your own, having a more serious and stern personality that goes against your timid one, but that never stops him from loving you all the same. Should the two of you be away from each other he'll leave a piece of him with you, perhaps something on his person he wears often, or maybe a book he knows you'd like. When he is with you he'll never mind you grabbing a hold of his hand, even when others are around. He finds it adorable how you seem to try and melt into his arm as you hold onto it while others are around and chatting.

[1000sunnygo]

Always gets me how visually similar these two panels are:

And how they're exactly 200 chapters apart.