#Haha just kidding

[naffeclipse]

A sort of mad scientist AU where Y/N is, of course, a mad scientist. You suffer from chronic illness and you are desperate to make your experiments work but you struggle without help. You refuse to take on a human assistant out of a desire to not be treated as lesser--as if you can't conduct great, horrific experiments like the other crazed scientists. You stubbornly set yourself to work without any such succor in your tower and the days pass, wearing heavily on your soot marked hands and aching, waning body.

A solution appears right at your feet one evening while rummaging around for some material in the grimy streets (dead animals, toxic waste--the usual to carry out unethical tests) and discover two abandon animatronics in the back alley, left to rot and turn to rust. There's close to zilch hope for the two but you're not a mad scientist for no reason. You drag the endoskeletons home before prompting collapsing for a day or two after overextending yourself and paying the price.

Once you get your strength back (and cursing your weakness) you turn all your effort to cleaning and preparing the endoskeletons. The celestial model of the animatronics would be helpful in your work, no? One after the solar ball of gas which beams heat and light onto the world and the other after the gray rock which brightens the night and tugs on the tides. Sun and Moon. You solder wires and revamp the servos. You hold and handle the limbs and heads of the animatronics as if they were sleeping. Soon, they will wake.

There's just one problem. They need a spark. Not a bit of ember from fire or the first crack of electricity from a splitting fork of lightning. A spark of life. And you contain such material within yourself. It's dangerous to lord over life and play god, but you need them.

The night storms when you prepare the animatronics with their chassis open, lying down on tables. You are steady despite the buzz in your veins in the face of the most dangerous experiment you have conducted yet. With these two are your side, there will be many to come. You spill your blood, split away two pieces of your pulsing core, and set two tiny sparks of life from your beating heart into the animatronics. Your head spins with pain and hope. The hum of servos whirling to life touches your eardrums. A great rumble of thunder shakes the tower. Your vision is slowly swallowed by darkness as you start to collapse but before you fall, two glowing pairs of eyes open.

When you wake, you're in your bed, in the dark, and your chest is bandaged. You hardly have the strength to touch the blood-stains soaking into the gauze but a silver and blue hand stops you. Red eyes pierce you at your bedside, a dark personage holding your wrist. Standing on the other end of your bed is a tall figure with ghostly pale optics falling over you. Dread fills your marrow at what exactly you brought back from death. A raspy voice raises a question. Who are you?

The animatronics. They're alive. They want answers, and you are more than willing to supply them. You give a very detailed, breathy response about how this all came to be, and when you propose that they become your assistants in your endeavors, they silently share a glance and nod in unison.

Though you fear you got off to a rough start with them putting you into bed after making sure your heart was still beating, they prove to be everything you want—and more. They have no desire to return to whoever tossed them to the street and left them as scrap metal, and you finally have extra hands to hold together metal contraptions and nimble fingers to set the exact scalpel blade size you need in your hand when cutting into a carcass.

They do not infantilize you in your sickness, much to your aching relief. Sun, however, is poignant in reminding you that pushing yourself past your energy capability, such as walking into town and dragging back a metallic frame for a killing contraption, will result in you needing a day of recovery. Moon sharply remarks that willingly subjecting yourself to an overnight of experimenting with beating hearts and lightning strikes will most likely cause a pain flare, but they never stop you. They never decide for you. They see you—not the unending illness clawing at your edges and leaving its marks on your flesh.

Though you learn to manage yourself better—for science, of course. You request Sun's assistance for lifting heavy plates into place before you bolt and screw them down. He's all too cheerful to lend a hand. When it grows late, you allow Moon to lead you to bed before the fire in your muscles becomes a roaring inferno. He tells you softly that he's been recording the number of good and bad days you have, and that your flare-ups don't appear as often when you have a full night's rest. Your assistants are pleased—with the improvement in your experiments, of course.

It's rare, but sometimes you'll catch an odd sentence or two from Sun about where they were before, and how much nicer it is here. You give them much. You don't shout or throw things at them. He lays a hand over his chassis and smiles. Moon will look at you sometimes, and when you ask why he's staring, he says that you have never raised a hand to them. It's strange. He thought all mad scientists were the same. He's glad to be wrong.

You're glad they're with you too. Your science has never been madder and you don't lay through bad days alone anymore. You don't like talking about your chronic illness. The discussions you've had in the past with peers and professors revolved around how you're handling it and what it's doing to you today. Can you still do your work? It's not mad or experimental or new—it's just sad. Other people think you're sad and pitiful, and you would rather die trying to conduct a hazardous experiment than ever stop to tend to yourself.

Sun and Moon learn to take your mutters and curses in stride when another flare-up hits. They ask questions occasionally, wondering how long you've lived with this and if it would ever be cured but they seem to already suspect the answer. Sure, you've tried several times to manufacture an antidote to whatever poison sits in your veins, but such endeavors have only ended with you waking up, lying in your own vomit. They don't give you pity, not like the others have. No, Sun holds your hand between his large digits and asks if you've eaten anything yet. Moon touches your shoulder when you stare out of the circular window in your tower and asks if he can walk you to your bed.

They need you, and they know what great work you're doing here, crafting weapons of mass destruction, simmering glowing liquids, and putting together new creations—not like them, no. Nothing compares to your assistants.

[bookish-cravings]

Absolutely nobody can tell me Jayvik isn’t canon after the finale, is there anything gayer than your partner being doomed by the narrative and all you’ve wanted for a while now is to have him back and in his final moments you embrace him and rest your foreheads together and refuse to leave him alone and he is doomed already but you choose to doom yourself out of love and loyalty to him because you’d rather be doomed with him than go on without him, like isn’t that the entire point, we are doomed because we love, you guys, they are so in love with each other, they are so canon, you guys, you guys-

[fayewoodss]

all three together! 💚💙🧡

(sorry for the repost, I just like seeing finished series all together)

[fez-pwned]

I have become such a negative person

[mother-ofthe-universedraws]

Sup babe, guess what I finally did

[zhukzucraft]

you're rubbing off on me

[abigailunderthemoon]

Me: I honestly don’t get parasocial relationships. That singer is not your friend. Don’t call that author by their first name. Your favorite YouTuber doesn’t know you and probably wouldn’t care to. Just consume their media and move on. Their work can be important to you, but you won’t be important to them. Just be normal.

Dropout and Dimension20: *exists*

Me: The only thing stopping me and Brennan Lee Mulligan from being the very best of friends is that we’ve never actually met.

[kaiserouo]

he kill

[maintitle]

Selphie, whenever she makes a suggestion to the group:

[juanysusalchica]

Jealous! Edgar x Reader

This was a request from a friend who likes Edgar a lot.... not good at writing him but it gets me out of my comfort zone.

You stayed hidden on the tall grass to recover your health after you were attacked by Shelly’s bullets, fortunately and surprisingly you survived. When she was out of ammo, this gave you the opportunity to escape.

You weren’t good in Solo showdown, the reason why you survived is because you simply ran away from any brawler’s encounter and dodge their bullets. Earlier this day, you played the Duo version with Edgar, but this made him annoyed when he found out that you chickened out during the whole game while he had to carry your team.

After losing the game together, frustrated, he said that you should get out of your comfort zone and try solo instead. For now, only two more brawlers left leaving you, Shelly, and some individual.

When your health reached to its peak, you suddenly heard a sheer screaming, you immediately recognized it was Shelly, she was out of the game.

Your anxiety increased as the green toxic gas was consuming your surroundings forcing you to get out of your hiding spot. Sucking in some air, you prepared yourself to jump out of the tall grass when you heard a familiar voice.

“Ugh, where are they?” they grumbled.

“Wait a minute, I recognize that voice…” you thought, cautiously walking out of your hiding spot and saw a familiar young man wearing darker clothing, you immediately recognized that it was Edgar who was wildly searching on the other side of the map, his back facing you, unaware that you were literally standing from behind.

This is it.

This is your opportunity to finally show him that you can win without his help. The times you’ve teamed with him, you managed to learn about Edgar’s attacks, his range are short and needs to be closer to the enemy making him an easy prey for long range attacks, so this was a piece of cake.

Without making a sound, you aimed your shot at him, taking a mental note to be far away from him as possible. When Edgar was about to turn around, you sucked in air once again and threw you first attack on him.

“Aah! Hey!” He gasped, clutching his arm to where he was hit, his eyes move wildly around the place to search his attacker until his eyes locked with yours. His blood ran cold when he saw you standing boldly in front of him, he was too used in seeing you coward throughout the games and now you got him cornered.

Realization hits him as soon as you lifted your weapon to throw your next attack, Edgar quickly spotted a wall and immediately bolted to get cover.

Your nervousness took the better of you thinking that he’ll use his super, you threw out all your attacks hitting him before he could reach thus eliminating him out of the game. You have won.

You ran towards him to help him get up; Edgar slapped your hand away from him. You flinched, not understanding why he was reacting this way.

“Leave me alone; I can do it myself.” He barked, rising from the dusty ground abruptly.

“Edgar, I was just trying to help you...”

The look of anger on his face soon morphed into one of realization and then embarrassment, he was so focused in winning the game and he shouldn’t let his anger overtake him and hearing the way your voice cracked made his heart sink.

“I… sorry, I shouldn’t react this way, especially not to you.” He muttered, turning to leave. Its was a bad habit of him in shooing people away and bottle up his feelings.

“No wait!” you plead.

Suddenly, you grabbed him by the wrist stopping from his tracks and looked at him with concern.

“Please don’t go. Tell me why you are behaving like this…”

Edgar was stunned at this action for he did not expect you to touch him; he doesn’t like when others touch him especially Collette but when it came to you it made his little shriveled heart skip a beat. His anxiety began to rise, he wanted to run away and die from embarrassment, but his legs wouldn’t budge forcing him to stay with you.

Edgar let out a sigh of defeat and nods.

“Okay but promise me that you won’t hate me after this.”

You furrowed your brow at his commentary, you were puzzled on why you would hate him, slowly shaking your head, Edgar took a deep breath and looked at you directly in the eye.

“The reason why I was angry is because... I was jealous that you beat me. There, are you happy now?”

Edgar turned around crossing his arms, a pink hue appeared across his face. You blinked, not the kind of answer you were expected. Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by your laughter in which caused Edgar off guard. He looked at you with wide eyes as if you had grown an extra head. “Hey, what’s so funny about?”

“Haha, I’m sorry, its just- Pfft, I never thought you’d get angry at me just because I defeated you!” You laughed out loud, leaving you almost breathless, this made Edgar’s face go profusely red. After taking a few breaths to calm your laughter and gave him a small smile.

“If I’m being honest, I thought you’d be proud of me for being able to play by my own, I never care about winning.”

Edgar was out of words; his mind ran with different excuses but them of them were convincing. Realizing that he had forced you in getting out of your comfort zone just to show him that your capable in surviving had made him feel like a monster.

A small chuckle escaped from his lips and scratched the back of his neck embarrassed.

“Wow, now I feel like a bad person.”

“Oh, don’t be harsh with yourself,” you scoffed, swaying your hand through the air, “I’m glad that you were able to talk about your feelings. Next time, can we play duo together?”

Edgar’s eyes widen at the offer, for a moment he thought you would hate him when talking about his jealousy and leave. He was lost at his thought that he didn’t hear you calling his name, he then blinked when you slide your hand pulling back to consciousness.

“Huh, oh I mean, sure whatever.”

Edgar slowly smiled at the offer, realizing that despite his jealousy and harsh attitude, you still wanted to see him and play together.

[anubiarts]

what if we held hands.....

[vargdottern]

what are you talking about yes he is

this is his husband

[mimilovesnumetal]

this's some weird shit but whatever, since cringe culture is dead...

(a little bit of)

BILL CIPHER x READER

Bill Cipher: the name whispered in hushed terror, synonymous with an otherworldly fixation. He is a powerful demon, he could have any dimensions that he wanted, could have ANYTHING but really.. all that he wants and craves is you.

He hates humans, he thinks they're like ants, but you? oh, you.. you're just the most perfect thing he've ever laid eyes on.. All he wanna do is to love you forever (because he can't die yk)

But u just won't fall for him! he had literally done EVERYTHING, cleaned ur house, maked u (the best) company, he even covered himself in deer tooths only for YOU!! but u just won't fall for his tries.. Well, he'll keep trying anyways, he has the whole eternity, and after all, he's the only one in this universe that can truly (love) appreciate u very dearly... You just need to learn to love him too~

[justvea18]

PLEASE where is the full image where Achilles is behind Patroclus and grabbing his chin and smiling PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BEGGING SCREAMING CRYING PLEASE

I don't think I'm allowed to post that here

[twitchingandsalivating]

[fayewoodss]

If Insomniac's Spider-Man 2 doesn't inspire the most egregious and devastating Parksborn angst, then I'm waging war on the fandom.