#double double queue and trouble

[morguezsz]

you will never understand the enrichment the phrase ‘mother trucker dude’ in a shitty australian accent gives me

[shewhorunsmazes]

“Ai is the future; the future is now. And sucks. The future is both now and sucks.” - Breanna

just like with thelma… those scammers really scammed the wrong meemaw… also… we got some genuine harry whump this episode! which really has me thriving

[catras-breakup-song]

thank u for putting she-ra back on my dash I missed it 🙏🙏🙏

well, i live to serve.

...for no price! 💚

[thefreelanceangel]

"I love this thing! Hold still, Lulu!"

"Look! It's great!"

[fatedmuses]

@venombloom asked: ❝ that is the worst idea i think i’ve ever heard. ❞

"No, I think I've come up with worse ideas than this," Carolina said nonchalantly as the crept over the rooftops of Treviso. She loved being up here, feeling the wind in her hair as the jumped from building to building, climbing trellis' and through open windows.

"Look, all I'm saying is, there's a bunch of Antaam up ahead, and I think they have hostages. What do we need a plan for? We can just kill them all and call it a day." It would take what, 5 minutes between the two of them? They could handle that. "We don't need permission to kill Antaam now, do we?"

[countlessrealities]

@mcltiples sent:

Sat by his boyfriend's side, Morty takes the other's hand. "Y-You know what I like about us?" He ended the silence with soft spoken words, brown gaze casted down at the way their fingers fit perfectly together.

"I-I like that we understand each other, even when things are rough o-or if either one of us has a bad," Snuggling closer, he continued. "A-And you're just --- y-you're the only person who makes everything better. So, I-I just wanted to say that ---- I-I love you."

The words trail off as he brings their joined hands up to his lips, kissing delicately on the center of the hand. His lips lingered. Closing his eyes as he basked in the closeness.

{ To your Morty from my Morty 💛 // something cute for you to wake up to, but take your time in answering !! 🥺 }

The last few days hadn't been great for Morty. He couldn't have said if it's because things have been rougher and more stressful than the usual or if he has been more affected than he normally is, for some reason. Probably a bit of both.

Not that the why matters. He's tired and overwhelmed and all he craves is some peace and quiet.

Of course, as per usual, he hasn't told anyone. He doesn't want to be berated for complaining and he doesn't want to bother the few people who would have actually cared.

His counterpart hasn't been an exception, and yet the moment his boyfriend joins him on the roof, Morty is left with no doubt that the other knows. Something that shouldn't surprise him, since that's how it often works between them. There's no use for words, they just can tell when it comes to each other.

Hazel eyes drop on their intertwined fingers as he listens to his counterpart. It's like hearing his own thoughts and feelings being spoken out loud. It leaves him dazed with warmth and happiness.

"Y-Yeah, I feel the same. About you an-and about us," he answers in a quiet voice turning to look at his boyfriend.

He can hardly suppress a shiver when those lips brush against his skin, soft and loving, and he's ready to swear that he's drunk all of a sudden.

"I-I'm the luckiest person in the world. B-Because when things are bad, for any reason, a-all I have to do to know I'll be okay is looking at you."

No matter how shaken or exhausted or sad or angry he might be. Having the other by his side always manages to soothe him.

"I-I love you too. Y-You're my compass when I'm lost."

[involuntaryspya]

@purplearchcr liked

"Please tell me you know that you need more than sunglasses and a hat to make an actual disguise."

[wishfulmuses]

new tag dump

ignore this i'm cooking

[morguezsz]

the south of England is fucking insane man. I just saw a guy passed out in the middle of the pavement and everyone is just stepping around him??? What

[crownshattered]

@siriuslord inquired: "Well done, you're truly a class act." A genuine compliment towards his doppleganger. -- @siriuslord to O!Ciel B) double trouble

⁕| Unprompted |⁕

"A 'class act', you say? The sentiment is most certainly shared~" Great minds often think alike, as they say, although this is a particularly special case. Perhaps the young earl should keep this doppleganger around... It wouldn't hurt to have another mind like his at his disposal.

And surely the other would agree.

[holyblcd]

[ FEAR ] : sender, out of instinctive fear, grabs receiver's hand for comfort. for benji & charlotte!

smoke traveled towards the clear blue sky from the cigarette in his hand as he INHALED, feeling the nicotinein his body. the fume grew to a cloud as he exhaled. it was a habit he was trying to quit but it was not easy. he had been smoking for years. not every day, but the addiction was still there. at least he had the decency to go out when it began to itch in his fingers, body screaming of abstinence, wanting that feeling, THAT sense of well-being. besides, he didn't want the children to see this. he was aware that some of them had seen far worse things, but still - there was something inside him that went against smoking in front of kids (and he DIDN'T want to have the smoking is bad talk). they could probably even figure out he was smoking - his worn and old brown coat reeked of it.

hand was raised, cigarette brushing against lips and it was in that very moment he felt her presence. she was like a walking SUN, powerful and bright, a leader - their leader, but she was so much more than that, she was also the girl he loved. she was everything. a hint of a smile tugged at his lips when she stood next to him. words felt unnecessary in this moment. there was nothing to say. there was nothing that needed to be said. instead he enjoyed the silence. it was pleasant, comfortable. it was HOME. the warmth of her hand against his cold skin made everything so much clearer. it made him more awake, more aware. it was then he noticed it - the fear in her eyes. concern appeared in dark eyes as they observed charlotte. his fingers intertwined with hers, giving it a light squeeze - a gesture of REASSURANCE. " what is it? what's wrong? " he could see that she was frightened. it was a feeling he was all too familiar with, but he had rarely seen it in her. head turned slightly - and it was then he saw it or rather THEM. sentinels and hounds. how the fuck had they managed to find them? to find this place, their place, their home? " shit - "

[fcrgottn]

Spinel glared at Cyn, already annoyed. It's like she wasn't even listening!

"Well yeah, of course I want them dead, but I can't get it back. They destroyed it. And even if they didn't, the injector isn't really easy to get back. You think it's easy to fight off four different gems at once when you have no fighting experience? I don't even know if that fusion counts as one or two gems. So it could even be five gems. Honestly, it's nothing short of a miracle I was able to poof them in the first place"

Was there really a need for any other weapon than the Solver itself? How annoying that this creature had lost her own weapon to the humans, such a failure and Cyn couldn't have that at all! Failure was never to be an option and it was already showing how weak her new toy was, a total failure.

╰─ ♥ ❝ Well we want them dead no? Kill them with your hands weather how b...boring it is! ❞ Cyn would lower herself down to the ground, her hands rising to her chest in her favorite position ❝ We kill them and get your weapon back! Happy times! ❞

[countlessrealities]

@mcltiples sent:

It'd been a few days since their slight disagreement. Though, that didn't stop Rick from portalling into the hideout. Stomping with every movement as he made a beeline towards his counterpart. It didn't matter what the other was doing. All that mattered was what was on his own mind.

Fist grabbed into the fabric of that jacket, using all of his strength to push the other into the nearest wall. Any protest was met with a soft "Shhh," as he began to gently manage any pushback he got.

Bright blue eyes met with identical ones. "We need to talk and it's been a long time coming, but I need to do this and I need to know what we are,"

Before he spoke anything else, he kept himself pressed against the other. Leaving no chance of escape, trapped between his body and the wall. Soft touches of his fingers brushed against the other's chin and jaw in contrast to his overly dominating presence.

"What we have is real, on my end, I really like you and I have for a few months now," From just the slack way his jaw moved and the look in his eyes, one could tell that he was being serious. No façade, no mask. His real self showing through. "I didn't want to, I'm not even..... out of the closet, really..... I've suspected that I've been gay for years now, but I didn't think I'd fall in love with a guy. Myself, to be exact....."

A blush appeared on his face, averting his gaze downwards. "But, I-I guess that I am," He shrugged. "--I-In love with you -- because I just said it and it came out so fucking easy and it doesn't feel wrong, it feels okay to say that. So,"

Shaking his head, he lowered his head. "This is my final love confession, I'll only ever say this once, act like this once. So you can accept it or reject it. I just need you to be as honest as I am with you right now."

{ To your Weird Rick from my Weird Rick // based off of the thing from discord }

After their last argument, Rick had thought that he wouldn't have heard from his counterpart for a long while. It might not have been their first fight, not by far, but something had been different about this particular clash. It had been more personal, it had hit too close to home, it had threatened to reveal something neither of them was obviously ready to admit or face.

Or, at least, that was what he had believed till the moment when he heard those heavy steps echoing throughout his hideout. There was only one person, aside from himself, who could have strolled in so freely. So there was no question on whom it was. What he couldn't even start to guess was why.

Everything happened too fast for him to be allowed to properly react. Or, at least, that was what he told himself when he found himself grabbed and shoved into the closest wall. It was safer than to admit that, perhaps, he had let the other manhandle him because, by now, it wasn't just something he had grown used to. It was something he had come to enjoy, in a sick, twisted, but also longing, way.

His hands shot up to grab his mirror image's arms, in a fake attempt at pushing him away. There was no real force in the gesture, but he had to at least pretend, didn't he? Even with those fingers touching him so gently, so softly, in contrast with the pressure that was being used to keep him in his spot.

He had no idea of what was happening and it scared the shit out of him, even if he would have never admitted it. His guts kept telling him that it was either fight or flight, and he was paralyzed, unable to do either, or even just choose an option.

And then, his counterpart started to talk, explaining his reasons in a way that made it impossible for him to be misunderstood.

What we have is real. I really like you. I am...in love with you.

That last confession was what truly left him stunned, as if his brain had short-circuited, his synapses flaring randomly as he found himself incapable of processing the information. He had been filled, at the same time, with euphoria and dread and he couldn't sort out which emotions was the strongest.

Or, perhaps, he just couldn't accept the reality of facts because it scared the shit out of him.

"First of all, fuck you," he eventually spat out, grabbing his counterpart by the lapels of his jacket and attempting, only half-heartedly, to shake him. "For coming here after everything and dumping this shit on me. Seriously, pal? What makes you think that it's okay to drop this kind of bomb on someone without a goddamn warning?!"

He could have pushed. Pushed his other self away, pushed all those feelings they had shared and were sharing. After all, he had been given a choice and rejection was an option. The easiest on the long term, the safest.

But also the one he would have probably regretted for the rest of his existence.

Love was something he had never known, in any form. Not from his family, not in his marriage, not from the few attempts at friendship he had tried to build, before giving up completely. And yes, for some reason, right now, with this motherfucker, it didn't feel that alien anymore. On the contrary, it felt like something he could aspire to, something he could understand, something he could long for without consequences.

There was the fact that the first and only person who was making him feel all this was a man, but that was a can of worms he had no intentions of opening. Now, or ever, if he could have helped it.

He hung his head, leaning in until his forehead was resting against his mirror image's.

"I hate it. I hate how I want you, no, how I need you in my life. Even when I couldn't stand you, seeing you made my whole fuckin' day," he started again, in a much quieter, more subdue tone. "It's-...I've never been in love, so I can't tell. But...I've never felt what I feel for you for anyone before. I've never...I don't want to picture my life without you now that you're part of it. I don't think I could, even if I tried. So...You want honesty? Fine."

He gritted his teeth, barely managing not to grimace. The tension that coloured his features and gaze, however, betrayed how serious he was and how much effort he was putting into speaking those words.

"I don't know if it's love or...something. I've been trying not to think about it, but there's one thing I know for sure. I want you to stay. With me. So..."

He paused, exhaling a shaky breath.

"...Stay."

[canon-fcdder]

"What if they kissed?" // Kuro and Double Trouble ;) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @ᴘʟᴀꜱᴛɪᴄꜱᴏᴜʟᴇᴅ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

✧   「 ᴍᴇᴍᴇ  」   ✧  

「 ☆ 」 Boisterously bumbling about on deck in their predictable drunken stupors, a rare mirth has overtaken the entire crew. Not spawned from any predictable cause like a holiday but from a frankly surprising— as far as Double Trouble is concerned, the ❛ Black Cat Pirates ❜ live up to their name in the most unfortunate way when it comes to catching a lucky break —victory. It had been hard-earned, plan going awry in the middle thanks to a dear crew-member's fumble. Not that he'd openly admit it. Which is fine, the truth will become apparent... one way or another.

Besides, Double Trouble has always been a fan of improv. Things can be so dreadfully boring when they always go PERFECTLY according to plan. A little bit of chaos every now and then can be enjoyable. Healthy, even. So long as it's not stemmed from their own incompetence. Other people are allowed to be caught off-guard by personal failings, Double Trouble holds themself to a higher standard. A more comforting one, so long as it doesn't falter.

Speaking of higher standards...

Gaze roams from the fools on deck to observe their stringent leader instead. Looking unimpressed as ever with his crew as he keeps a distance from them. Double Trouble chuckles in amusement at the sour sight, expression softening when in the safety of the shadows they've chosen to hide in. Off to the side of the celebrations, it isn't lost on them how they and Kuro are the only ones choosing to watch— and likely judge —instead of loosen up with the others. But at least they have a decent reason for it. Studying ones ❛ associates ❜ , as well as how they interact, never fails to be useful. Plus, it's utterly fascinating watching them fumble about.

Double Trouble, in their own egotistical way, is enjoying themself.

Kuro is clearly not.

Sighing with a shake of their head, Double Trouble chuckles and shifts into a black cat. Scampering along crates and barrels, slinking through shadows as if a spot of darkness come to life. It doesn't take long for them to stealthily make their way to the stoic Captain. ❝ Aww... What's with that face? ❞ Double Trouble playfully chides, taking their true ( as true as they like to get ) form beside the other, studying Kuro to see if they took him by surprise. Each little twitch in those facial muscles speaking volumes. So long as someone is an avid reader. ❝ You look as though you should be looking at the wreckage of a burning ship. Not a celebration... ❞

Sauntering around the man, hands clasped behind their back and eyes never leaving him, they continue to converse, ❝ Listen. I know today was a bit of an almost-disaster... and it could have gone very wrong. But it didn't. And yes, I KNOW that's no excuse... and I know you probably want to take whoever is responsible and wring their neck until their eyes are bulging from their head~ ❞ A dare-say excited grin upon their face, narrowed eyes gleam at the image conjured within their mind. Before it's gone with a shrug and faux-dismissiveness, ❝ But that tends to be a REAL mood-killer, so I'm afraid it'll have to wait until after the party. ❞

A secret promise within the jest, that if Kuro doesn't already know who is responsible for the almost blunder... he can and WILL know.

❝ So relax those stiff facial muscles, choke down a few terrible drinks, and ENJOY yourself for once. Because like it or not, we won today. ❞ Tail pushes a drink to Kuro's hand, appendage secretly stretching to grab one during their monologue. ❝ There's nothing wrong with letting yourself have some fun— ❞ Abruptly leaning in, Double Trouble places a kiss upon Kuro's cheek. A playful peck, hardly as explicit as their filthy flirtations and yet BRIMMING with a tease. It's the first time they've done anything like it to Kuro... and from the smirk as they pull away ( quickly taking a few steps as if to get out of range ) they don't regret it. ❝ —you've earned it, Captain~ ❞

With that final statement— accompanied by a wink —Double Trouble's form shudders into that of a lithe black cat. The troublemaker darting off into the darkness, leaving the Captain alone with his drink... and his thoughts. 「 ☆ 」

[morguezsz]

MY EYE IS A BIT RED AND IT LOOKS LIKE I GOT PUNCHED IN THE FACE HELP

[always-just-red]

HIIIIII congrats on 200 followers!! Can I have a Zayne smut fic pleasee?? Like the reader sees him wearing scrubs for the first time and she finds him hot or (reverse) him seeing the reader in uniform for the first time? Thank you!!

Sorry it's taken me so long to get around to this! '200 followers' is like a punch in the face reminding me how long this has been in the queue haha, but thank you so much! ❤ I don't write smut I'm afraid but this is a quick lil build-up to a cliff-hanger, so if any of the talented smut writers out there wanna write a part 2? Go for it! And tag me so I can read it link it here for everyone to enjoy!! Smut writers, I summon you!!! ✨🔥✨🔥✨✨

Professionalism

Zayne x Reader ❄

Summary: You love a man in uniform! Or... well, scrubs or whatever.

Genre: Suggestive (not smut sorryyy)

Warnings/Additional tags: still PG i guess since it cuts off before anything happens? gn!reader, established relationship, inappropriate workplace behaviour (shame on you Dr Zayne!!)

| Word count: 1.7k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You’re not quite sure when this game started, but you’re going to win.

It was unassuming at first— harmless, even innocent little acts that slipped into something else altogether, as they so often do. Almost like falling in love: it snuck up on you. Coincidences— a chance meeting in the park, an accidental brush of two hands— become suddenly calculated. You take the reins from fate; you walk in the park where he takes his lunch, and he takes his lunch in the park where you walk. How fortunate it is, that you’re always running into one another.

Yes, this has been like falling in love. And neither one of you is naïve.

It’s dark outside the hospital. The stars are contesting the scattered, infinite lights of Linkon and you watch them through a window, finding meanings and shapes. They’ve a warmer glow than the cold, white, clinical lights in here.

“Could I get you something while you wait?” Yvonne asks, peeking over the top of the reception desk. She sounds anxious, and you can make a pretty good guess as to why.

“I’m fine. Thank you, though, really,” you smile cheerfully back.

She humours you with one in return. “I’m sure Dr Zayne will be along shortly,” she titters nervously, trying to fill the quiet. “He was with his last patient of the round when I spoke to him. It shouldn’t have been too much trouble, he must be— ah! Dr Greyson!”

The man was just passing through, face buried in a clipboard, but he stops at Yvonne’s greeting.

You lift a hand. “Hey, Greyson.”

“Hey!” He squints at something he’s read. “What a coincidence! I was just saying to Zayne it’s been a while since you paid us a—” he looks up and loses his train of thought. 

“Visit?” you finish.

“Umm… yes,” he chuckles, with the kind of reluctance that tells you he can’t decide if he’s falling victim to some prank. It’s the same anxiousness you’ve inflicted on poor Yvonne. He tests the waters with a: “Rough day at work?”

You beam at him. You’re sat with your usually pristine uniform marred by swathes of half-dried blood, too dark to be human. Not one bit of it is yours. By some miracle, you managed to perfectly dodge every swipe of that Wanderer’s claws today. Rolled out the way of every flying piece of rubble. “You should see the other guy,” you say, then double back, “well, the other thing.”

Greyson gives a stiff grin, still sceptical, but you’ve almost won him over. Nonchalantly, you reach for one of two brown paper bags at your side, then hold it out to him. “Here, for you!”

He tucks his clipboard under his arm, then comes over and takes it. There’s a soft crinkle as he unfurls the top. Sneaks a glance inside. His face lights up. “Thank you,” he enthuses, his hand diving in to retrieve a large chocolate-chip cookie— one of many. “Yvonne, would you like—”

She holds up her own paper bag. Greyson chuckles again, tucking into the treat. Like Zayne, he’s prone to working through his breaks, and you know he’s so often starving. Midway through a bite, he looks up at you, frowning. “Is this a bribe?” he mumbles, cheeks so full you almost can’t make out the question.

You smile at him pleasantly.

He chews slowly— connecting the dots. “No questions asked?” he guesses with a raised eyebrow.

“No questions asked,” you nod.

It’s a fair trade. The cardiac surgeon thinks it over, his eyes narrowed at you behind his glasses. He takes another suspenseful bite of the cookie. Chews. Swallows. Then there’s the broadest grin you’ve seen yet. “Works for me! I don’t want to know.”

With a nod to Yvonne, he carries on down the corridor, shooting you a knowing wink as he passes. You adore that man. Hell, half the hospital staff feel like family. You’d lay down your life for them, but you also delight in having them wrapped around your finger, albeit, with the help of a cookie or two.

You’re so busy watching Greyson leave that you don’t notice his absence has already been filled. Not at first, anyway, but then you feel it: hazel eyes on you.

You turn to meet them. Zayne stands, one hand curled around a small stack of paperwork, the other retrieving his glasses from his face. He tucks them into his breast pocket. “What a pleasant surprise,” he says, and the enthusiasm has been carved out of his words and replaced with suspicion.

“Hey, doctor,” you tease, lifting the last of your care packages from the coffee table. “Thought I’d join you for your break before I head home. Do you mind?”

His gaze flits over you, and it isn’t the honourable inspection he’d claim it to be if you dared call him out on it. He’s trying not to look again. “Of course not.”

This would usually earn you a sheepish smile, or a kiss on the cheek, but you’re angling for something else today. Victory. Look at him: he knows.

Like you said, neither one of you is naïve.

…

All right— knife to your throat?— you have an inkling as to how this started.

It was a more honest version of this: you’d stopped by the hospital, a few months ago, to boost the morale of a certain doctor and his hard-working team with some coffee from down the road. The machine in the staff room was broken, and by multiple accounts: made shitty coffee, anyway. So you often found yourself, hot drinks in hand, trying to catch Zayne on one of his few breaks.

(You miss that old coffee machine. They’ve replaced it, now.)

One morning, you were a little too late. Zayne had been called on to assist with a surgery, and you almost clashed in the corridor— you hadn’t recognised him at first. He was out of his usual attire: dressed head to toe in his medical scrubs. Despite the rush he was in, he made time to flash you a gentle smile. Said you could wait in his office; he wouldn’t be long.

You never did give a coherent answer. There was something about seeing him like that— so professional, so in his element. Off to save someone’s life, probably. Gods, he was amazing, and he just looked so, so good. 

Zayne knew from the start, of course; he’s so perceptive when it comes to you.

You used to feel guilty— positively sinful— until you caught that look in his eye, one day after work. You’d gotten to his place, kicked your boots off while he watched from the couch, enamoured, but you hadn’t noticed. You’d been complaining about a Wanderer. You were a mess: your hair, your uniform.

You remember looking up, and there it was. A flicker of something dark in his gaze.

He was quick to disguise it. Always quick to disguise it, because he’s a gentleman.

It’s been an unspoken war of attrition since then, and you’re both determined to outlast the other. You pick and choose your battles; there are times Xavier tries to drag you to the Association’s medics for surface scrapes and bruises, but you turn him down: you have a doctor at home, thank you very much.

Zayne tends to every wound with tight lips and steady hands. You’d feel bad, but…

He sometimes turns up to your dates still wearing his lab coat. (He left his regular coat at home again, and it’s cold outside, isn’t it? A lab coat is better than nothing.)

Last week, he really pushed his luck. He was demonstrating a new experimental technique in the operating theatre, and Greyson insisted you come along to watch. It was so innovative, he said. Zayne was working something of a miracle, he said.

So here you are, fighting back.

“Well?” Zayne asks. He’s sitting back in his chair while you ‘straighten’ his tie.

You’re perched on his desk, not listening. “Hmm?”

He catches your hand gently, using it to pull you closer, so you’re forced to meet his eyes. His tone is low. “What did I just say?”

You glance down again. Chuckle: “Something about responsibility?” 

A finger lifts your chin, tilting your gaze back up. “It’s inappropriate,” Zayne says.

“What’s inappropriate?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

“No,” you mutter, and the finger on your chin can’t keep you from staring at his lips. You speak a whisper of enticement: “Tell me what I’m doing.”

Will he do it— say it— after all this time? Put it to words so that it might finally be acted upon? Break, you will him, looking into his eyes, because the last stunt he pulled pushed you over the edge, and you can’t hold on much longer. It’s starting to hurt.

All in. You are going to fall, so you’ve got nothing to lose by trying to bring him down with you.

“It’s just a uniform, Zayne,” you smile innocently. “But if it bothers you that much… I could always take it off.”

Your doctor stares at you, his expression refusing to melt. Then he lets out a sigh. In the beat of a heart he’s up out of his chair, striding away from his desk, away from you.

“Zayne?”

Now he’s not listening. He’s by the door, taking his lab coat down from a hook and threading his arms through the sleeves. He fixes the cuffs, straightens it, but that’s where the motions of habit end. His fingers don’t make it to the buttons, and of course you notice; you’re not naïve.

Zayne turns to you, and there’s no disguising that look in his eyes and its common counterpart: a rare, inevitable smile. Complete surrender. He locks the door with a click.

Ha.

You were always going to win, weren’t you?