Mad Hatter Sped Up < PRO ✧ >
The tea party wasn't just late; it was vibrating. Hatter wasn't sitting; he was a blur of plaid and frantic energy, his limbs moving like a film reel set to triple speed. He didn't pour the tea; he shattered the concept of pouring. One moment the porcelain pot was upright, the next, twelve cups were full, steaming, and already cold from the sheer wind of his movement.
"He drank the Quick-Silver Pekoe," the Hare muttered, not moving a muscle for fear of being decapitated by a flying saucer. "He’s living three Thursdays at once." mad hatter sped up
The March Hare sat frozen, a piece of toast halfway to his mouth, eyes wide as the Hatter rearranged the entire table three times in a single second. The bread, the jam, the sleeping Dormouse—all of them were flickering in and out of place like a glitching dream. The tea party wasn't just late; it was vibrating
Before she could blink, he had sprinted around the table, polished every spoon, knitted a scarf out of steam, and returned to his seat. He looked at his pocket watch, which was spinning so fast it was humming. One moment the porcelain pot was upright, the
The Hatter suddenly appeared directly in front of Alice’s face. She didn't see him move; he was simply there , a static image of wide eyes and a jagged grin. "Alice! You're late for the end of the sentence!"
