#MAD - IRRITATED SCIENCE!

[ask-de-writer]

I would like to thank Delightfully

EAGER BINGE READER

@furislupus​ for READING and LIKING

SEE STORY, Part 1 to 5 of 5, World of Sea

MAD IRRITATED SCIENCE!

TRIGGER TREATS!

MEETING WITH A STRANGER

GENII’S JUNK

LONG FLIGHT HOME

AFTER THE PARTY

BLINDSIDED

KATE’S COPTER

Bizarre Borderland

[avelera]

Okay so I recently got low-key obsessed with Jayvik and I’ve been liking your posts about them (top tier analysis btw). Anyway I’m curious about your opinions on a couple of things:

If Jayce’s love language is physical touch, what do you think Viktor’s love language is?

What do you think the Anomaly actually is? My headcanon is that it’s caused by all the paradoxes/timelines that Mad Wizard Viktor keeps making, but idk why it would only be under the Hexgates.

Hmm, when taking into account that the love languages thing is basically horoscopes for real people, but they may have informed how the characters were written, I'd say:

1 ) I completely agree that Jayce's love language is physical touch. That much is obvious.

Viktor's love language is Quality Time - that would explain why he starts getting irritated and hurt with Jayce near the end of S1 and why he's so moved and touched by them solving equations and spending time together pre-time skip. Actually, so much of Viktor's attitude towards Jayce is explained by him seeing Quality Time as a love language it's actually making me a bit dizzy, I need to think about this a lot more because I think this might have cracked something for me...

2 ) Hoooo boy, I actually have an answer for what the Anomaly is in my mind, but it's a lot less character driven and a more metaphysics driven because I was feral about Arcane S1 before I had anyone else to talk to about it online and I've spent a lot of time thinking about Hextech and Shimmer. OK, here goes:

Hextech is an axiomatic (lawful) channeling of forces of nature, namely magic. However, magic to stay pure and reliable requires an anarchic (chaotic) AND the axiomatic (lawful) balancing act for each use of its power if it's to stay "pure" and reliable. Otherwise, you invite chaos in. Namely, the Anomaly.

In addition, every use of magic/the Arcane puts off a certain amount of "car exhaust" for every use, this allows it from a Doylist perspective to be a climate change metaphor but it does go deeper than that and follows its own magical rules. If you look closely, overuse of Hextech always puts off smoke. Early uses don't do so as much, though. In my opinion, each puff of that "smoke" adds to a potential Anomaly.

Now if you're good at magic, and skilled with it, say if you're good mage, as seen with The Mage / Viktor in 1.02, you make a point of scooping up up all the exhaust from any use of rune magic and pouring it back into the spell.

Look at how the mage scoops up all the exhaust coming out of the spell here and weaves it back into the spell!

Hextech doesn't bother to do that! Because Jayce doesn't fundamentally understand that advanced level of magic! He just keeps calling on its energy without dealing with the output of smoke/chaos/Anomaly fumes so it's just hanging in the air.

By the way, all the smoke in Arcane is hand animated so to my eyes, all smoke actually matters. I'm actually a little bummed that S2 didn't go deeper into explaining the smoke that comes off of some uses of the Arcane but not others but I'm assuming they'll delve more into in future shows because The Arcane Is Awake Now, thanks to my brilliant science boy dipshits.

The cleanest, clearest use of Hextech we ever see is the first time the science boys use it to float:

I draw a few conclusions from this:

1 ) The first hit is always free - first time you use magic, magic is happy to help you out! It will do the thing you ask! No consequences!

2 ) Magic gets more and more angry the more times you use it. Actually, by the time we get to Vi using the Atlas Gauntlets repeatedly in S2, there's a little puff of smoke every. time. she uses. them.

3 ) Magic requires some balance. Breaking a window before it let the boys float? Cool, that's balance. But if you just have it doing the same constructive motion over and over, like sending out airships, but you don't let it break some things too? It gets annoyed.

4 ) If it doesn't get applied in a balanced way, magic/the Arcane gets mad. Ekko compared the Arcane's frustration to a sigh. That smoke? Is the sigh. Again, first time you use Hextech, magic which is at least semi-sentient, is MORE than happy to help! The more you keep demanding repeated axiomatic actions, the more it sighs in anger.

Then we get to the crux of your question: what is the Anomaly?

The Anomaly built up at the base of a tower stuffed full with polished, axiomatic, reinforced Hexgems that do one constructive task over and over and over again all day, every day: safely send ships from one place to another.

The Anomaly builds up from the frustration of not allowing magic to be free. Jayce is an axiomatic thinker, he sees magic as a tool, not as a force of nature, so he's been channeling it super precisely and not scooping up all that extra exhaust and channeling it back into the magic and that means it builds up this... pearl of an Anomaly which is all this wild magic with tons of chaotic potential that can do basically anything, including time and dimensional travel but it's gonna be super weird about it.

Soooo... thanks for giving me the chance to yell about Hextech, hope that was sort of what you had in mind!

[grison-in-space]

I'm genuinely sorry, I was really tired and couldn't think of the word that mad pride movements use. I'm new to all of this. I thought you would be more open to it because you've reblogged from radical leftists (anarchists and communists both) within the past couple of weeks and they're all for Veganism afaik. The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different. I'm not spamming people with it, but I was inspired by an ask by a nonvegan and started asking popular bloggers why they weren't vegan to open up conversation and potentially change people's views on animals. If I've made you uncomfortable I'm sorry, though I admit I'm really confused by your standpoint. You do know that the only reason communism hasn't succeeded is because of America? Anyway, sorry again, I'm also autistic and I didn't mean to dismiss your legitimate dietary needs. Can I recommend acti-vegan's posts? While I understand that you can't go vegan, perhaps their blog will at least help you understand our points, they're much more well-written than my asks and they have plenty of legitimate science resources at hand. Thanks for listening, I'll take your advice into account. I'm not trying to not listen, it's just frustrating because so many people say they get it but they don't change, and if they truly got it they would, you know?

Okay, I get that you didn't mean to be offensive, and fuck knows I shouldn't throw stones when it comes to forgetting specific words. (This happens to me fairly frequently; it's a thing.)

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

So yesterday I actually wrote out and then deleted a whole paragraph to the effect of "part of my deep, deep frustration with animal rights activism hooks into my commitment to the phrase 'nothing about us without us,' because I frequently see the same kinds of emotional projection without making the effort to listen to animals on their own terms from animal rights activism groups."

The first thing I need to make clear to you is that this--veganism and animal rights activism (ARA) more generally--is not new to me. I am in my mid-thirties and I have never had a job of any kind that did not revolve around animals in some way, I've spent time in rescue spaces and vets and universities, I'm queer and I have spent most of my life in leftish progressive circles, so it's kind of hard to miss.

Essentially, you are proselytizing to me as if you were a newly baptized evangelical convinced I had never heard of Jesus, because if only I had heard and understood his holy word, I would be converted instantly to his light! It's not any less irritating when the belief system isn't explicitly a religion.

More under the cut, because this one is long.

Disclaimer one: Veganism isn't synonymous with ARA ideology, but it's deeply entangled with it, and ARA ideology drives the movement of veganism as a (theoretically non-religious) ethical decision. And I object very strongly to the framework imposed by ARA activists. When I say I am not vegan, I am saying that I have considered the ethical framework that underpins veganism as an ethics movement and I have deliberately rejected it.

The second piece of context you should know that when I talk about being a behavioral ecologist, I mean that I'm a researcher who works on animals and that my framework is rooted in trying to understand animals in their own natural ecological context, without necessarily comparing them to humans. There's a lot of ways to study animal behavior you might run into, including attempts to understand universal principles of behavior that transcend species (animal cognition) and attempts to understand how to better treat animals in human care (animal welfare). You know Temple Grandin? Temple Grandin is an ethologist (the field that gave rise to behavioral ecology, also focused on animals within their species context) who worked on animal welfare (finding ways to make slaughterhouses less stressful to livestock, among other things).

Third point: my profession also means is that I work directly with animals--in my case, currently mice--and that I do not think research with animal subjects is wrong as long as all efforts are made to ensure maximal welfare and enrichment for the animals involved. This is another major bone of contention politically between my entire field and ARA groups, and you should know that I have also spent my entire professional career under the shadow of, well, people who care strongly enough about those ideas to invade my workspace and potentially seize my animals and "free" them into a world they do not have the tools to survive in.

So there's where I am coming from. Let's get back to what you're saying. Here, I'll quote again in case you have the same crappy short-term memory I do.

The argument that all brains are different but equal and should be treated the exact same is a primary aspect of mad pride from my understanding, and that speaks to me about animals just having different brains, and that they don't deserve to be exploited and killed for us just because they're different.

Point the first: Even within humans, I don't think that all brains should be treated the exact same. Especially in a disability context! After all, what is an accommodation if not an agreement to treat someone differently because they need certain things to access a space? Accommodations by definition fly in the face of this "treating everyone the same" understanding of fairness. I think all (human) brains are equally valuable, and I think all brains are worthy of respect, but I do not think that it's wise or kind of me to assert that everyone should be treated in the same way. For one thing, I teach students. If there's one thing teaching has taught me, it's that a good teacher is constantly assessing and adjusting their instruction to meet students where they're at, identify failures of understanding, and keep the attention of the classroom.

Point the second: animals do have different brains from humans. That does not mean that animals are inferior, but it does mean that they are alien. There's a philosophy paper, Nagel, What Does It Mean to Be a Bat, that you might find illuminating on this front. Essentially, the point of the paper is that animals have their own experiences and sensory umwelts that differ profoundly enough from humans' that we cannot know what it is like to be a different species without experiencing life as one, and therefore we must be terribly careful not to project our own realities onto theirs. That is, our imagination cannot tell us what a bat values and what it experiences. That is why we have to use careful evidence to understand what an animal is thinking, without relying on our ability to identify with and comprehend that animal. I have watched ARA groups deliberately encourage people to shut their reasoning brains off and emotionally identify themselves with animals without considering within-species context for twenty years. This is a mainstream tactic. It is not an isolated event and for that reason alone I would be opposed to them.

Point the third: there is a definite tendency in lots of people to care deeply and intensely about both animals and people who are seen as "lesser" in status--children, poor people, disabled people, etc--just as long as those groups never contradict the good feelings that come from the helper's own assessment of themselves and their actions. In humans, when the "needy" point out that some forms of help are actually harmful, the backlash is often swift and vicious. This is why animals are such an appealing target of support and intervention. They can't speak back and say "in fact, you are projecting my love of this frilly pink tutu onto me, and I think it's uncomfortable and prevents me from walking." They can't say "I kind of like it better when I don't have to worry about getting hit by a car, actually?"

(By the way: this is also why it's offensive to compare disabled people to animals, because this is generally done at least in part to silence the voices of disabled people speaking for our selves and our communities. We have access to language, and we use it, thank you.)

All forms of animal welfare intervention going right back to the founding of the first RSPCA have been incredibly prone to being hijacked by classist, racist, and otherwise bigoted impulses. This is because animals offer an innocent face for defense that conveniently cannot criticize the actions taken by their champions, and they therefore provide a great excuse for actions taken against marginalized members of human society. Think about the very first campaign the RSPCA ever did, which was banning using dogs as draft animals: a use that is not inherently harmful to dogs, which many dogs actively enjoy, but also one that was specifically used by poor Londoners and which in fact immediately resulted in a great butchery of the dogs that Londoners could no longer afford to feed rather than allowing poor people and their dogs to continue working together. No one was, of course, challenging the particular uses of dogs or any other animal favored by the wealthy. This kind of thing is so, so, so common. Obviously it doesn't mean that all interventions to prioritize animal welfare are inherently bigoted, but it does mean that we have to be critical about our choice of challenges.

On top of everything, the animal rights activist movement's obsession with "exploitation" is a function of the idea that humans are sinful or otherwise Bad in how we interact with animals by definition. For example, take the chicken rescue near me that is so obsessed with the possibility that some human somewhere might benefit from an animal in their care that they implant every hen they adopt out with hormonal implants such that the hens no longer lay eggs--a function that is normally a natural byproduct of a chicken's reproductive system, fertilized or not. A mutualistic relationship involves both parties benefiting, and that is the case for an awful lot of human relationships with animals. In general, the idea that associating with animals is a thing that can only harm animals rather than being a trade between two species to enrich one another is all over these groups. It's just so myopically focused on human shame that it prevents practical interventions that might benefit everyone, and often promotes interventions that don't directly benefit animals but sure do make humans miserable. For example, this kind of thinking is why groups like PETA are absolutely awful at effectively rescuing unwanted dogs and cats: they think pets living in "bondage" with humans are an essentially sad outcome, rather than one that might be mutually enjoyed by all parties.

I'm tired and my meds haven't kicked in, so I'm not currently going to handle the communism thing except to point out that while the US absolutely did destabilize a number of leftist regimes in South America and Africa, Russia and China between them have certainly not treated their own people kindly, either (and more so their own client-nations, as with the former members of the USSR). Please do some reading about the Holodomor and Lysenko in Russia (and frankly all of the details of Stalin's regime) and the Cultural Revolution in China in particular. Khmer Rouge might be worth looking into, too. I am not saying the US's hands are clean, you understand, because they are not; they're as steeped in red as anyone else's. What I am saying is that for people living on the ground, communist revolutions have this nasty habit of turning into bloodbaths and arbitrary slaughters. Do not let your distaste for the US's bloodsoaked imperialism (which, yes, is and was bad) let you fall into the trap of becoming a tankie.

And if you don't know what a tankie is, you really, really should take some time to learn.

[feyosha]

Attention Science Enthusiasts and Chem Majors!

Reference for the non-chemists:

Alkaline Metals: putting water on these will set them on fire. Combines explosively with Halogens to produce salts, which are largely impervious to heat.

Halogens: corrosive as fuck. Includes Fluorine and Chlorine. Combines explosively with Alkali Metals to produce salts, which are largely impervious to heat.

Mercury: thanks to Cooper Pairs and Quantum Weirdness, is liquid at room temperature despite being heavy as Lead. Turns Aluminum to mush. Will drive you mad.

Dimethyl Cadmium: 2 methyl’s on a Cadmium! A Metal, directly on Carbon Functional Groups! Carcinogenic, Teratogenic, Neurotoxic, Lipophilic, with both acute and chronic effects, this shit will wreck your cellular machinery like an industrial mining apparatus turned on a neighborhood brownstone.

Azoazide Azide: hello yes I would like to order 14 Nitrogen atoms, but, can they all be exclusively single bonded in a second-order Azide? Whaddya mean it’s the least stable molecule ever fabricated? What do you mean it self-immolates in isolated conditions?

Sand: it's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.

[REDACTED]: goo

[themadbiologist]

I humbly present some reasons for choosing botany as your evil science. 1. Deadly nightshade. Wolfsbane. Poison hemlock. Need I go on? Plants fulfill the 3 things to look for in an exceptional science: they are fashionable, functional, and formidable.

2. It’s unique! Many aspiring mad scientists choose to create chemical oozes or ray guns. With botany, you stand out from the crowd, even among biologists. No crudely-stitched cadavers here!

3. Spite all the people who say real evil scientists make robots or whatever. Send them a toxic tea and see what they think then.

4. Green is good. Being around plants can help you relax after a long day of heinous villainy. Proper rest is key to your long-term health and will be a great asset to your lasting reign of terror.

5. It’s cool. Seriously. Plants are wonderful, terrifying, dare-I-say arcane entities. Mycology (study of fungi) is also often categorized under botany, which irritates me from a taxonomy standpoint; however, fungi are also fascinating and marvellous things indeed.

Choose evil botany! Join a fast-growing field of like-minded scientists today. I hope to see you soon :)

— Dr. S. Aucupar, evil botanist.

[lvnleah]

006. | changes

word count: 2.1k

find the masterlist here!

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December 14th 2023 | 24 weeks pregnant.

Pregnancy was hitting you harder than you’d expected.

Your hormones were all over the place and you could hardly sleep. You were only twenty-four weeks and still had sixteen weeks left of pregnancy to go, you were anxious about how you were going to get through them.

Whilst your morning sickness and nausea had disappeared, Insomnia had crept in along with your hormones being worse than usual. You found yourself crying over ridiculous things one minute and the next being angry at Leah for doing little things such as breathing.

You’d been awake all night and were mad at Leah because she actually got some sleep while you were awake, tossing and turning as your baby boy had a disco inside of you.

At five o’clock, you’d given up on sleep and decided to get up. You sat on the sofa for a while with a cup of tea before deciding on making some breakfast for you and Leah at eight o’clock.

Leah had to leave by nine thirty like she usually does so you thought it’d be a nice gesture. Her winter break was starting in a couple of days, meaning you’d get to spend more time with her. She was spending a lot of time at training because of her ACL and her rehab was coming on well, she was only a few months out from making her return.

You hummed softly as you moved around the kitchen, the scent of fresh pancakes filling the room. You carefully set the table, arranging plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.

A vase with wildflowers added a final touch. Stepping back to admire your work, you felt a swell of pride. At 24 weeks pregnant, every task seemed monumental, and completing this breakfast felt like a triumph.

Leah emerged from your bedroom, her hair slightly tousled from sleep. She smiled at you, then glanced at the clock.

"This looks amazing, pretty," she said, grabbing a piece of toast and hastily spreading jam on it. "But I’ve got to run. I’m going to be late for training, I forgot to mention that I’ve got to be there earlier today."

Your heart sank as you watched Leah take a hurried bite. "You’re not staying for breakfast?"

"I wish I could, but I really have to go," Leah said, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. "I’ll make it up to you later, I promise."

You forced a smile, but as Leah dashed out the door, the smile faded. You sat down at the set table, staring at the untouched food, a knot forming in your throat. The effort you’d put into making breakfast felt overlooked, and the rush of sadness was overwhelming.

Tears started to stream down your face and before you knew it you were a crying mess at the dinner table. By the time you’d calmed yourself down and stopped the tears from flowing, your food was cold so you decided to clear it all away and settle for a few plain pieces of toast.

Once again, you were mad at Leah. Yes, it was a simple mistake of her forgetting to tell you she needed to leave earlier but you still couldn’t brush it off. You felt like she hadn’t even acknowledged your hard work.

As you went on with your day, your anger with Leah grew. The simple things such as her leaving clothes hangers on the bed and socks on the floor made your anger bubbly up.

You felt like you were doing everything.

“Urgh!” You groaned, picking up another clothes hanger. “Why can’t one woman put clothes hangers back? It’s not fucking rocket science, it’s simple!”

Just as you finished clearing up the clothes hangers in the bedroom, your phone began to ring. You picked it up to see it was Leah, it was her lunch break so she was phoning you like she usually did.

"Hey, how’s it going?" Leah’s voice crackled through the speaker.

Your irritation flared. "Fine," you replied bluntly.

There was a pause on the other end. "You okay, pretty girl?"

"I’m fine," you repeated, your tone sharper. "Why wouldn’t I be?"

"I just wanted to check in," Leah said, her voice softening.

"Do you have to keep checking in on me? I’m not a child," you snapped, regretting the words as soon as they left your mouth. The frustration you felt about the morning spilt over, magnified by your pregnancy hormones.

Leah fell silent for a moment. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you."

You sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just tired, Le. I feel like a zombie because your son decided it’d be a good idea to have a disco last night.”

“Take a nap, pretty girl,” Leah suggested, “Oh, are you still up for going out with Beth, Viv, Jen and Steph later?”

You exhaled slowly, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Leah's gentle tone and suggestion seemed to soften the edge of your anger.

"I'll try to nap, but I don't know if I'll manage," you replied, rubbing your temple. "And yes, we can still go out with the girls. I could use a distraction."

"Good," Leah said, her voice laced with relief. "Maybe some time with them will help. Just try to take it easy, okay?"

You nodded, though Leah couldn't see it. "I will. I love you, Le."

“Love you too, pretty girl.”

As you hung up, you leaned back against the bed, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. You decided to follow Leah's advice and lay down, hoping to catch some rest before your outing.

A few hours later, you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing. It was a message from Beth.

Beffy 💗: can’t wait to see you tonight! I’ll be so lovely to see you, can’t wait to hear all about baby boy 👶🏻💙

You glanced at the time on your phone, it was four o’clock and you’d arranged to meet the girls at six so you decided to get ready. Things were going well until you had to choose an outfit.

You rummaged through your whole wardrobe and tried on many different dresses and tops and jeans but nothing felt comfortable. Anything you put on your body felt foreign and like it wasn’t you.

When Leah returned from training, she found you in the bedroom, sitting in a pile of clothes. You were staring at the heap, tears streaming down your face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Leah asked concern written on her face as she walked in and saw the mess.

“I don’t know what to wear,” you sobbed, gesturing at the scattered clothes. “Nothing fits right, and I just feel so huge and ugly!”

Leah came over, sitting down in front of you. “It’s okay, pretty girl,” she said softly. “Let’s figure it out together.”

She helped you up before guiding you to sit on the bed and then began picking up the clothes, laying them out neatly. After a moment of consideration, she pulled out a soft, flowy dress that fell halfway down your thighs. It was something you hadn’t worn in a while.

“How about this?” she suggested, holding it up. “It’s comfortable and looks great on you.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes. “I don’t know, Leah. I just feel so ugly. I’m like a whale!”

Leah knelt in front of you, taking your hands in hers. “You’re beautiful, and you’re carrying our baby. That makes you even more amazing to me. Trust me, you’ll look perfect in this.”

With Leah’s encouragement, you put on the dress. She helped you with the buttons at the back, smoothing out the fabric and adjusting the hem.

“See? You look beautiful,” Leah said, stepping back to admire you. “How do you feel?”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. The dress was loose enough to be comfortable yet flattering. Leah’s supportive presence made you feel a bit more confident.

“It’s perfect,” you said, managing a small smile. “Thank you, baby.”

Leah smiled back, giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “More than alright. You sure you’re up for this?” she asked, gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I’m tired, but I want to see them,” you replied, managing a smile. “I think it’ll do me good.”

Leah squeezed your hand. “Alright, but promise me if you start feeling too tired, we’ll leave.”

You nodded, and with that, you both headed out to meet Beth, Viv, Jen, and Steph at a cosy restaurant downtown.

As you walked in, you were greeted by a chorus of cheerful voices.

"There she is!" Viv beamed, waving you over. "How's our mama-to-be?"

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you at their enthusiasm. "Surviving, mostly. I'm so ready for this pregnancy to be over. I still have sixteen weeks to go!”

Steph chuckled, pulling out a chair for you. "You look amazing, though. Sit down, we've already ordered some snacks."

“Have you got any baby things yet?” Jen asked as you sat opposite her.

Beth laughed, “Jen, she’s only twenty-four weeks! She’s got ages.”

“Alright Beth, not all of us are clued up on pregnancy!” Jen rolled her eyes jokingly.

For a while, you managed to push aside your exhaustion and enjoy the company of your friends. But halfway through the meal, the noise of the restaurant and the chatter around the table began to feel overwhelming. You could feel your emotions bubbling to the surface, and suddenly, without warning, tears filled your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you stammered, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

The table fell silent as your friends exchanged worried glances. Leah immediately slid closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she murmured, rubbing your back soothingly. “You’re just tired, pretty girl. It’s alright.”

You tried to compose yourself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. The rest of the meal passed in a blur. Your friends offered comforting words and gentle touches, but you could tell they were concerned.

After you finished eating, Leah took your hand. “Let’s get you home,” she said softly.

You nodded, grateful for her understanding. Leah settled the bill, and you said your goodbyes, promising to catch up again soon.

Once home, you changed into your pyjamas, your body aching with fatigue. You made your way to the kitchen, thinking some ice cream might help lift your spirits. But when you opened the freezer, you found yourself staring at the empty spot where the garlic bread should be. Tears welled up again as you realised you’d forgotten to buy more.

Leah walked in, seeing you standing there, sniffling at the freezer. “What’s wrong?” she asked gently.

You turned to face her, your face flushed and eyes brimming with tears. "I wanted garlic bread," you choked out. "But there isn’t any, and I don’t want to drive to the store."

Leah chuckled softly, a sound that made you bristle despite your tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” she said quickly, seeing your reaction. “I’ll go get you some garlic bread. Wait here.”

You watched as Leah grabbed her keys and headed out the door. A part of you felt guilty for sending her out again, but the thought of having the garlic bread was comforting.

When Leah returned, she had a small domino’s box in her hand and the smell of cheesy garlic bread filled your apartment.

Leah brought the warm bread to you on the sofa. “Here you go,” she said, handing you a plate.

You took a bite, and to your surprise, tears began to stream down your face again.

“I’m sorry, Leah,” you said between sobs. “I’ve been so snappy and mean. I feel terrible about it.”

Leah sat beside you, pulling you into her arms. “Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered, brushing a tear away with her thumb. “You’re going through a lot right now. Your body is changing, and it’s making you feel all sorts of ways. I get it.”

“But I shouldn’t take it out on you,” you said, sniffling against her shoulder.

Leah kissed the top of your head. “I know it’s not easy for you. And I’m here for you, no matter what. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your chest. “I’m lucky to have you,” you murmured, closing your eyes.

“And I’m lucky to have you,” Leah replied, her voice soft and reassuring.

“These stupid fucking hormones!” You grumbled. “They’ve got me all over the place, it’s so stupid.”

Leah laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple, “You’re doing an amazing job. There’s no one else I’d rather have to carry our bubba boy.”

“You can carry our next baby, never again am I doing this!” You joked, getting a laugh out of Leah.

[ruddyhotelau]

What canl you tell me about the other archangels (besides Lucifer and Michael) in your AU?

I will give you the whole background information for all of them, Lucifer include

Saint Michael - Justice

- The eldest child (he/him)

- Position: Archangel, the General of the God’s army, the highest Prince

- Personalities:

+ Strict

+ Absolutely loyal to God, always put Heaven as top priority

+ Hard on himself both physically and emotionally

+ High egotistical

+ Workaholic

+ Irritated most of the time (good at hiding it in front of other angels except from his siblings)

+ Bad at emotions

+ Hates crowded place and associating with people

+ Keeps his face neutral and solemn most of the time

- Tattoo location: Left deltoid

Lucifer Morningstar - Aspiration

- The 2nd child (he/him)

- Position: Seraphim

- Personalities:

+ Was considered an “outcast” in Heaven

+ Awkward

+ Ambitious

+ Idealistic dreamer

+ Quite careless

+ Emotional

+ Silly and theatrical

+ Terrible at lying most of the time

+ Felt lonely sometimes

- Tattoo location: Back of right hand

Saint Gabriel - Faith

- The 3rd child (he/she/they)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Friendly

+ Rumors seeker and drama enjoyer

+ Energetic

+ Talkative

+ Heaven’s “journalist”

+ Like to tease and pull pranks on everyone (especially on Michael after all of Heaven knows about his relationship)

+ Extrovert

+ Knows almost everyone in Heaven

- Tattoo location: Right ankle

Saint Ralphael - Kindness

- The 4th child (he/they)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Calm

+ Patient

+ Kind

+ Elegant

+ Mother vibe

+ Gentle

+ The one who can understand and sympathize with humans the most

+ The good kid who never cause troubles

+ VERY scary when angry (Michael approves)

- Tattoo location: Left upper arms’s palm

Saint Uriel - Wisdom

- The 5th child (they/them)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Carefree

+ Chill

+ Wise

+ Book addicted

+ Knows everything but at the same time clueless to their surroundings

+ Anti-social but doesn’t mind their sibling's company

+ Neutral face most of the time

+ Acts like a mad scientist when one of their experience succeeded, both in science or magic

+ Aside from reading and researching, their other hobby is sleeping and counting stars.

+ Tattoo location: Middle of the forehead

Saint Jophiel - Beauty (yellow)

- The 6th child (she/her)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Friendly

+ Kind

+ Selfless

+ Humble

+ Always sees the beauty in everything and believes that inner beauty is more important than outer appearance

+ Looks like a bunny, fights like a bear and is elegant like a peacock

+ Loves classical music and heavy metal rock

+ Appeared dreamy most of the time

+ Artistic person

- Tattoo location: Right collarbone

Saint Chamuel - Peace

- The 7th child (he/him)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Fashionable

+ Sly

+ Heaven’s “relationship counselor”

+ Drama enjoyer

+ Understanding and sympathetic

+ Straight femboy

+ Slay bitch with snarky comments

+ Silver tongue

- Tattoo location: Left chest

Saint Azrael - Death

- The 8th child (he/him)

- Position: Archangel

- Personalities:

+ Shy and quiet

+ Mysterious

+ Into dark humour

+ A softie

+ Is often mistaken as a scary guy

+ A good listener

+ Opens up more to his siblings

+ Strict and serious about his job but still very kind to the good souls that he guides but shows no mercy to souls who were terrible people

- Tattoo location: Nape

*)The tattoo was Lucifer's idea. He designed it since he was very young and recommended to his siblings that they should all share this mark together. This is the special mark that represents the strong bond between the siblings. Later, even after Lucifer has fallen, none of them erased the tattoo. They all still kept it till now.

This is what the tattoo looks like, each siblings have a different color for their tattoo

[cryptidghostgirl]

HOLY SHIT

I just got to reading the request you did for me

Aka Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

And I love it so much???

Like it's so good 😭

Don't wanna bother you with another request but could you do a part 2? I'm just curious on if the reader ever succeeds or if alastor ends up getting their marriage back lmao

A/N i’m so glad you liked it!! a number of people have been asking for a part two actually so of course :) Also this is my reminder that I am not a woman in stem but an enby in classics so I get science things wrong,, i’m very sorry.

Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2 (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Nothing I can think of please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 2,206

First Part: Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I can still be useful" Alastor told himself as he straightened the lapels on his jacket, "She still needs me."

Alastor leaned into the mirror, slicking his hair back just the slightest bit.

"Yes." he nodded to his reflection.

Taking a deep breath, Alastor stepped out into the hall. He didn't know why he was so nervous. Y/n had never caused anxiety to rule his being before, so why was it happening now?

Since her arrival at the hotel, she had stayed locked in her room. Two whole days had gone by and the demon avoided everyone and everything. It was not unexpected or out of the blue, she had always favored her own company above anyone else's but, Charlie was growing tense. She had asked Alastor to help bring their newest guest out of her shell, hoping their shared past would cause his attempts to be more fruitful than her own had been. For some odd reason, Alastor had agreed.

Fondness was the trouble. He was fond of Charlie, and he had always had a bit of a soft spot for Y/n. She had been his wife for christ's sake, there was no way he couldn't have fostered some sort of affection for the wildly brilliant and creative girl.

Before he really realized it, Alastor was at the door to Y/n's room. She had taped a sheet of loose leaf to the door. Keep Out had been written on it in all caps, in her familiar, messy handwriting. Alastor's smile softened slightly at the sight.

Y/n had not haunted his thoughts, had not been an obsession, since his arrival in Hell. While he had recalled her with warmth and a slight smile, even looked for her in Hell on occasion, she had mostly stayed out of his mind after his death. Alastor had had bigger things to deal with, more important occupations of his time. He had had plans. He still had plans but, everything had seemed to change the second Y/n had appeared and nearly flat out told him she didn't care about him.

Alastor was nothing if not prideful. His image, his sense of self, his power, it all played in to the idea of himself in his head. He had figured that through the years of their arrangement, the strange woman had come to harbor some sort of affection for him as he did her. He had figured she at least cared for him as a friend, that her irritation had been friendly, playful even. Clearly, he had been incorrect.

The door suddenly swung open revealing Y/n. She wore an cross expression, a lab coat, and safety goggles. Peering over her shoulder into the room, Alastor noted the way her hair was still continuing whatever she'd been working on before opening the door. He had never seen a demon with a form like hers before. It was perfectly suited, equally unusual as the soul it housed.

"I could feel you standing out here."

Alastor raised his eyebrows, bravado taking over.

"Really, my dear?" he asked, leaning on his microphone before him as if it were a cane.

"Yeah." Y/n flatly replied, lifting the goggles from their eyes and pushing them onto their forehead, "What do you want?"

"I..."

What did he want? Alastor was a man who always knew his goals, his aims. He was always working towards something, no deed without its purpose. It was only now he realized that he didn't really know what he wanted from Y/n, why he had really agreed to fulfill Charlie's request with nothing given in return. Alastor cleared his throat, banishing the complicated thought to another time.

"Charlie requested I come speak to you about your lack of participation in the hotel's group activities."

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"And you care what I do with my time because...?"

She tilted her head slightly to the side, her hands still on either side of the doorframe, blocking him from entering the room. Alastor sighed.

"You're not going to make this an easy conversation, are you."

It was a statement, not a question, and a slight smile cracked across Y/n's tired face.

"You know me so well." she joked lightly.

Alastor was ready, preparing himself to have to force his way into the room to have this chat. He saw the way her hand on the door twitched, and prepared himself to have it slammed in his face. Much to his surprise, Y/n let go of her hold on the door and stepped to the side.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to come in?" she asked after a moment, her head cocked to the side in a genuine curiosity.

Alastor nearly laughed. Always so inquisitive with regards to the world around her, always trying to fill the gaps in her understanding, usually at a loss when it came to what was considered normal interaction. He stepped into the room. Y/n's hair stopped what it was doing with the test tubes in the back and closed the door for her as she turned to face him. After a look of appraisal, she seemed to decide the atmosphere for the conversation and sat down on the bed, patting the empty space beside her at Alastor's continued hesitation. He sat down and she crossed her legs, watching him intently.

"You need to stop avoiding people, and the activities. You are here to be redeemed, aren't you?"

"Oh! I see what the issue is." Y/n smiled brightly, "No, I'm not."

Alastor's brow furrowed. He had thought it odd that Y/n of all people would seek redemption but, had figured the time had simply changed her in ways he had yet to grasp.

"Then why are you here?"

The little beast called hope clawed at the inside of his stomach, gnawed on his ribs. The want was unfamiliar.

"Because I need an angel."

Alastor froze.

"You need..." he watched her in confusion, "you need an angel?"

"Yep." Y/n nodded in earnest.

She smiled up at him, evidently satisfied with herself and her response. She had always been like this. Alastor sighed.

"Why?"

"Because I need to test my virus on one, duh."

"Y/n, what are you planning."

"Same thing as always. Actually, I could use your help. Maybe this isn't all so bad, can you get me an angel? Just at the next extermination or something. I already know it works on demons, I just don't want to actually let my little baby loose without knowing it will work on the angels as well."

"Jesus, Y/n." Alastor laughed lightly, unable to not.

He shook his head in disbelief and Y/n's smile slipped from her face. She was always scheming, always wanting, always doing what it took to ensure she got what she wanted. They were so alike in that way: complete and utter disregard for the world unless it served them.

"What? Did I do something wrong? Did this hotel already work? Have the exterminations stopped?"

"No, I... you really haven't changed."

"Well, I'm taking out the afterlife now instead of the living world, but sure." Y/n crossed her arms, evidently irritated by his remark, "I'm just the same. So are you, by the way. I've heard about what you've been up to since you died."

Alastor was silent in thought for a moment before he spoke again. He looked at Y/n with a determined gaze.

"Are you asking to reinstate our deal?"

Y/n was wrong, Alastor had changed, she just didn't know it yet. The hotel had changed him, whether or not he wanted to admit it. He realized the answer to Y/n's initial question, what it was that he wanted, in that moment and there were only three things. The first was the same as it had been for the last seven years, to get rid of this damned contract he was under. The second? The second he had realized earlier, in his room when he'd been getting ready to come to Y/n, he just hadn't liked it and so, he had ignored it. Alastor wanted to be back in her good books. More importantly, for some undefinable reason, Alastor wanted her back at his side. The world, he had realized, had felt empty without her, no matter how irritating and distracting she could be. Though his motivations were muddy, figuring out the reason for the want was never the priority. The end goal was to fulfill by any means necessary. It always had been, for both of them. The third was that Alastor secretly wanted Charlie's crazy plan to work out. He wanted to protect these sinners, to protect this place they had all worked so hard to build.

There was a point of intersection to be found in two of these three things, if Y/n answered his question correctly. Taking out sinners, taking an angel, could let all hell loose on the hotel. Convincing Y/n to make a deal with him, to give Alastor her soul, well, that would be killing two birds with one stone. He would have his imperfect little companion in afterlife and he could stop her from doing any more damage to the hotel and its reputation than necessary to ensure the first thing took place.

"I suppose."

That was exactly what he had been hoping to hear. The first deal had been under her terms. Alastor had been hoodwinked into it, unable to turn it down due to the information on him she had uncovered. Now, the tables had turned. Alastor held his hand out towards her, grinning malevolently.

"How about this, let's make a new one."

"I don't see why not." Y/n shrugged after having thought it over, her hand meeting his, "Things are different, we're both dead. The old one wouldn't really work anymore."

"No, it wouldn't, would it?"

"Yeah so, you get me an angel to test this on. I start participating more in the hotel. Deal?"

"How about this." Alastor's grin widened, his antlers growing as well as his shadows ate away at the room's walls.

Y/n didn't flinch. Nothing in her expression changed save a slight twinge of intrigue as she watched him become more monstrous by the second, more all consuming.

"I help you get an angel. You stick by my side, like the old days. That would include participation in the hotel and all of Charlie's plans as it is where I work for now. A metaphorical taking of a soul rather than a heart, shall we say."

He was counting on her lack of interest in the world outside of science right now, counting on her lack of understanding of how things worked in Hell when an overlord offered a deal like this. He had chosen the words carefully, getting everything right while keeping the truth hidden.

"I'll still have time to work on my project?" she asked skeptically.

"When there is time."

Y/n smiled.

"Deal."

Green smoke wound its way out from the point their palms met. Y/n watched it, eyes wide with intrigue as it curled around them, temporarily filling the room.

"Is that what happens when deals get made in Hell?" Y/n asked as she let go of Alastor's hand.

"Only certain ones."

"Cool."

She got to her feet, snapping her goggles back over her eyes. Turning to the table, she began to fiddle with her test tubes once again. Alastor retook his normal form, watching her with a satisfied smirk. He summoned the chain, feeling the cool shadow of the mellow across his fingers. Y/n seemed not to notice as the collar formed around her neck. Alastor didn't like that, didn't like being ignored. He gave it a tug and she stumbled back a few steps, her hands flying to her throat and her hair catching the glass beaker she had nearly dropped.

Y/n noticed the chain now. It was impossible not to. As her hair set the beaker down, she turned to Alastor, eyes fixed on the glowing metal. Her gaze traced it from where she held it to his hands. Y/n looked up at him.

"What's this?" she asked, eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, "When did this get here? How..."

She trailed off and Alastor's smile grew wider still. He advanced towards her, wrapping the excess chain around the handle of his microphone. It clinked menacingly against itself, spawning a sudden deep seated dread in Y/n.

She held her place, her shoulders thrown back and feet planted firmly. Alastor couldn't tell if it was all a show or if she really was not at all scared of him in that moment. He didn't really care, it didn't matter. She stared intently up at him in defiance as Alastor came to a stop about a half a foot away.

"Well?"

"Oh my sweet, you really have no idea what you've gotten yourself in to, do you?"

It was better than he could have hoped, could have dreamed. She was entirely under his control.

"Welcome to the rest of your afterlife."

----

Next Part → Till Death do us Part pt. 3

A/N I wasn't super sure how to end this off, I hope you liked it!!

@marukun @nanami1chu @i-like-potatoes12533 @boogiemansbitch @apenasandorinha @almond-t0fu @mygoldtears @ahellborn @winterisholding @misty-melody @themetalbabygirl @trash-shoot

[neptunes-sol-angel]

This!

It's irritating seeing this trend with readers building their platforms by doing love readings, gaining followers for it, profiting off off of it, and then suddenly pulling the rug from their feet to instruct people (not guide!) that they're "lacking" in something but not even giving them closure on what, how, or where to start. Whether you actually care or you just want to find a reason to shit on other readers, people have the absolute wrong idea over and over again about what readings are meant to be.

It is a luxury. Not and should not ever be advertised as a need. If people need help through these services, then they have to want it for themselves instead of you trying to instill in them that they need to be reliant on occultic practices to make good decisions in their lives. That is a dangerous way to make someone codependent on readings because constantly trying to look for things to fix in your life in the name of "self improvement" is equally harmful as what an obsession with future spouse or other love readings will do to you. There is not a single topic that is superior or inferior to another when it comes to divination because they all have the potential to trigger someone into spiritual psychosis and I really need people to understand this.

You want readings to be about counseling others? Go towards other closed divination practices that are solely designed for giving spiritual insight OR just simply keep posting the topics that you want, in your own way and call it a day instead of worrying about what the next person is doing. Why does it always have to be a dick measuring contest in these communities when really we should be supporting each other? Not everyone is equipped to channel self-help readings and it's perfectly fine to just be a reader that caters to love topics or anything else that is unique.

It's like saying "Books are for learning. You should only read educational topics because I think you're not doing enough for your intellectual responsibilities". You'd be mad as hell if someone told you that you needed to put down that science fiction book because they feel like you need to learn more about neuroscience.

I'm a reader, and I personally take the breaks that I do here for my mental health because indulging in spiritual practices with no boundaries will drive you into insanity. Respectfully, if I just finished having a mental breakdown over recollecting the various cases of childhood trauma that I've experienced...I do not want to log on here and read pick a cards about shadow work. I wouldn't even want to touch my cards or speak to my spirit guides for the next couple of days.

Any other time, I LIVE for a good reading no matter the topic. Future spouse readings are not my favorite but I don't hate them. Sometimes I'll be drawn to just one specific topic depending on the day because that's life. One day I want to know more about my love life in the present, the next day maybe my love life in the future, some days I do want to read more into the shadow work that I need to do, next week I could really want to read pick a cards with messy topics or themes that are meant to boost your confidence, and when I'm in that mood, I might just only want to read 18+ themed pick a card readings 💀

The point is that I don't think people understand how precious this platform actually is. A lot of the material here, you can't really get in any of the other divination communities. People are talented here and should stick with what they feel that they should make and it's pointless to try to get them to do it any other way because IT'S SO DIVERSE here, just simply find another reader who makes the messages that you need at the moment. It's not that hard or rare to find that people are making it ought to be.

And just focus on what you can do as a reader. Are you being true to your practices and beliefs? Are you creating a space that's healthy for readers up here? If not, then think and respond accordingly to what you feel like you should do. If you're concerned about the consumption of love readings, don't be quick to point fingers at other people, especially if you know you're part of the problem. People learn on their own timing and through their own choices and you can't control that. What you can control is the content that you choose to distribute to others.

Do topics that match with your truth. Love readings are not your thing or not what you believe in? Don't make them. Are you tired? Don't feel pressured to post. You feel concerned with how your audience is consuming your content? Post less. Etc.

[hijinxinprogress]

Young Justice spends all of their time violating the Geneva conventions or mocking their mentors bc they’re traumatized theater kids without any capacity for a verbal filter which is also why they’re not allowed to watch movies at the tower

YJ is watching some hero movie and a character with a gruff voice sternly says “we don’t kill…we’re better than that” so Tim gives the most dramatic sigh and goes “this is giving me back the migraine from our last lecture from the league” which leads to YJ doing their best to dramatically reenact disappointed justice league lectures

Cissie, offhandedly: Most superheroes having that dumbass code that’s some variation of “we don’t kill, we’re better than that…” make me fucking nauseous because who’s we? I’ll have you know my mother assures me that I’m a piece of shit everyday so no I’m not better than this.

Greta, in a mocking disappointed tone: Cissie! I’m very surprised at your behavior, we’ve taught you better than that! We’re here to protect people not to hurt them

Kon, in his best angry Cissie impression: Well, who’s gonna protect my sleep schedule? You woke me up at 3am to stop some idiot that wanted to steal kryptonite? Are you serious?They’re not going to jail they’re going to the nearest cemetery that I can promise you

Anita, in a dramatic hero pose: I’m not like you…you made me realize something, I have friends and people that love me so I’m not going to-

Bart, doing an excellent mimicry of Anita’s unimpressed face: He killed your family wdym you’re better than that, that’s dumb as hell you even look at anyone I know with the tiniest hint of malice you’re leaving in a bodybag

Kon, turning to Bart and making his voice echo the way Greta’s does when she’s annoyed: what is this nonsense I wouldn’t let anyone get away with doing that to you guys I promise they’d suffer immensely

Cassie, hovering in the air doing a terrible impression of disappointed superman: We can’t kill because then we’re no better than they are

Anita, glaring at Cassie with her best Kon impression: I’m okay with that…let’s not pretend you don’t expect this from me, am I supposed to care? They deserve to suffer, why should I be the only one that has to suffer?

Anita, pretending to storm off dramatically while Cassie tries to look disapproving:

Cissie, doing her angry Bart impression: You’re not gonna waste people I actually like then get to chill in jail and breakout in a couple days

Tim, in a dramatic ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ tone: I’m not sure how you did things in the future but you can’t do things like this, do you understand?

Cissie, snorting and crossing her arms in the agitated way Bart does: I understand that our first fight will be our last because we’re not doing this shit again I’m not superman

Greta, in a gruff Batman voice: People can change if you give them a chance

Cassie, in a sarcastic Tim impression: I’ll start a timer I’ll even give him five minutes why are you playing with me rn Batman

Bart, sighing disappointedly: You're so angry and I wish you’d find an appropriate outlet for all this aggression. You don’t know what taking a life will do to you, what it’ll take from you….

Tim, in an irritated Kon impression: why not? we can find out let’s do an experiment and find out I like science I’m game hbu??

Cassie, who does the second best Batman voice: Neither of you can even begin to understand-! How do you know you won’t end up ending low tier criminals like pickpocketers? We can’t play judge, jury, and executioner… what happens when you’re wrong? What’s going to stop you?

Greta, fiddling with a phone and shrugging before giving Cassie Tim’s patented ‘I can ruin your life and you’ve just given me a reason’ look while doing her impression of the way Tim stands when he’s pissed and rolling her eyes: Self control? Common sense? When have my hunches ever been wrong? Don’t play with my intelligence, it will not work out for you

Bart, doing his best to copy the way Cassie stands and messes with their hair when they’re pissed: I’m just saying, if you blow up a city block you lose air privileges I have debris in my shoes rn for what?

[JL was meeting with a bunch of reporters in the tower and later had to do a lot of damage control after the press released a statement about the JL failing to rehabilitate young villains]

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

How would the twisted boys of your choosing react to a weapon mc whose dad is stein from soul eater? Talk about a ruff family reunion.

Stein’s Weapon Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Not only is being a weapon making you different enough but your dad somehow sciencing his way to Twisted Wonderland makes this even worse. Your relationship before disappearing from the world you two hailed wasn’t necessarily bad but having a father who too often stuttered on the line of madness made things tense. Madness aside he unmeaningly shadows your accomplishments whether by his own expertise or his constructive criticism instead of mild praise. If only to make things worse he’s unexpectedly overprotective of you when he accurately dictates when you are in over your head. 

When he arrives he no doubt comes out swinging with his soul wavelengths leaving immediate staff and students paralyzed. Leaving you to push past your friends as you transform to go stop his mad-induced frenzy. 

“Dad, chill out!”

“Widget!? Are you okay?”

“I will be when you stop trying to kill my friends!” 

He’s less than fond to know you’re in a world with magic but his own desire to dissect it and learn about it will ease him…for now. He’s irritable as he observes the obsessive exceeding interest the boys at Night Raven have in you. Angrily twisting his screw as he debates how badly to mess up their soul wavelengths.

“I’m not fond of you hanging around my kid…but I’m curious how you plan to go against that.”

Leona Kingscholar

“You’re right. It doesn’t matter really. I’ll make them mine anyway.”

He’s working overtime 

Attempting to bother your father while also avoiding his attempts to dissect him

Not only as a lion beast man 

but as a lazy pursuer that doesn’t seem capable of even beating you as a weapon

Stein is bothered by him

He claims that’s the only reason he doesn’t like them 

But with him, it's hard to say

They both tend to underestimate one another 

Where Stein doesn’t fully register the height of his obsession

And Leona trying to threaten him without getting experimented on

It's messy 

And it will continue to be as Leona spies the underlying attempt to send you both home

“I’m not letting them leave but if you do we won’t have a problem.”

Idia Shroud

“Heheh from one genius to another I’m not letting them go so easily.”

Both take each other on in a fueled mad-scientist feud

Its the best and worse time for them

With them spending plenty of their smarts dissecting and studying one another

It acts as a distraction until Idia runs off to your side

Who is following up on some experiments you agreed to 

Which include gaming for hours, binge-watching anime, and maybe kissing

Which has Stein working to create little gadgets to sabotage or at least surveil his experiments

Stein gets more invested in thwarting him because he understands his interest in you better

But Idia’s not giving up 

Not in this game 

You were his prize and Stein, while fun, was just a minor antagonist in his romance with you

“This is great! I’ll get the love interest and defeat the villain! This would make a wild otome!”

[cyberkitty1]

Twin AU

Major Across the Spider-verse spoilers

Part 2

inspo from : @moodysunflowerbaby <3

Mylo gets compared to his brother so much that he visibly gets annoyed whenever it happens so right off the bat when you befriend Miles before Mylo and Miles isn’t being a very good friend he just thinks youre moving on from Miles and either shoos you away or wont pay attention to you, he thinks hes the second option.

“ I wish Miles was here to help us on our science project, hes scary good at it” you say laughing and nudging his shoulder.

Mylo gives you this irritated face “yea i know hes is he my brother7. why you talkin about him anyway?” he says snapping at you.

you put your hands up defensively “ I didn’t mean to strike a nerve or anything he just helps me a lot with this stuff”

he scoffs “oh so im too stupid to do this? then go ask him to be your partner i don’t need this bs today” he says getting up and leaving. you just sit in shock; thats not even close to what you were saying?

He ignores you constantly after that but you need clarification; is he mad at you or not?

“ hey is your brother mad at me or something? we were doing a science project and he kinda got up an left. but then again it was my fault” you say the last part under your breath.

Miles shrugs “ i dont know just cause we brothers dosent mean i know whats up with him.”

you scoff “ what is up with the both of you? he’s ignoring me and youre being snappy, did something happen?” you say annoyed yet sincere.

he wipes his face with his hand “ well not everything is about you” he says grabbing his stuff “ and for the record sorry im not happy, my dad died.” he says walking away leaving you in utter shock.

why didn’t they say anything? now that you think about it; maybe you were a bad friend.

you guys haven’t talked for weeks, avoiding each other because you didn’t know what to say. you blamed yourself mostly for this and let this friendship slip your mind, but Mrs Morales had other plans.

Part 2?

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.

.

🏷️: @soseoulol @pandoragalora @miles-42-morales @heavisdelulu @lexixiii @lilcassipuff @levanneisdumb @thebaddest @sussybaka10 @itsznanabanana @malllywally @ivys-graveyard @missyysyx @c4nth3lp1t @Steve-haringtons-bitch @sgmianne @miles4hour @ulovejayy @onginlove @buckleyverse

if you want to be added to my taglist fill this out!

coming soon! :

chubby/thick reader x e!42 miles

[fairyhaos]

ᥫ᭡ // dude, i can see (through) you

vernon x gn!reader fluff, crack(?), supernatural au, non-idol au, ghosts, ft. ghost!jeonghan

3.5k+ words

warnings for: mentions of insomnia, pills

summary: when you move into your new house that seems almost too good to be true, you find yourself (not quite) face-to-face with the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

“Hey, hey, Hansol, did you hear that the family are finally leaving the house?”

“What? Already? Hyung, come on, why do you keep doing this?”

“It’s fun! I bet it was the floating pots and pans that did it. You know how much effort I put in to get those to lift up.”

“I liked these people. They had a dog!”

“Yeah, and the dog could see us. That’s a no-no.”

“Still, hyung, don’t you think we should just… try to live peacefully?”

“Ha! That’s funny. Anyways, I bet I can make the next tenant move out in just a month.”

“No. You shouldn’t do that.”

“So you don’t think I can?”

“I don’t think you should—”

“Oh, it’s on, Hansol! I'm gonna prove it to you!”

“Please don’t.”

───────────── 👻

There is something seriously, seriously wrong with your new house.

It’s nothing obviously wrong, however: on paper, it’s a perfect place. Situated in a nice town, not in an hugely overpopulated area, with various convenience stores and a park close by. Even the house is perfect: not too big, not too small, and, above all, startlingly cheap.

Everything about it is perfect. But from the first day that you move in, you realise that things are a bit… strange.

“Where the hell has my laptop gone?”

You thread your hand through your hair, exasperated. In the middle of your desk, where your laptop ought to be, there was an empty space.

You’ve always been a forgetful person, accidentally leaving your shoes in the wrong place or leaving doors open or forgetting where you put your keys, but this is getting ridiculous. Losing an entire laptop? That’s odd, even for you.

Frustrated, you open your various boxes that still contain half of your worldly possessions, wondering if you’d gone mad and somehow put it away in them instead.

When it becomes clear that your laptop has not been accidentally packed away, you straighten up, shaking your head and resigning yourself to the fact that your laptop is simply lost to the void that is your new house. Hopefully, you manage to find it again before you have to go to work in a couple of weeks.

───────────── 👻

“So, what’s it like, living by yourself?”

You huff, adjusting the phone against your ear as you crawl around on the floor, bending down to look under the sofa. “Really, really weird.”

Your friend laughs over the phone. “Weird? How?”

“Well, for starters,” you say, fishing out yet another fork that had somehow made it under your upholstery, “I think I’m being haunted.”

There’s a pause. “What?”

You don’t believe in the supernatural, or the paranormal, or anything mythical or to do with ghosts and vampires and the otherworldly. They’re all just tales, made up by idiotic people and spun into a capitalist plot by the media, creating franchise after franchise surrounding possessed dolls and muscled Hollywood men playing traumatised werewolves. It’s irritating, and most of all, it’s all fake.

Science and supernatural cannot coexist, after all.

But now, you’re beginning to question whether that’s really the case.

“—turned all my clocks forward by four hours. Four! I thought I was going insane,” you say, standing up and returning to your kitchen with the fork in your hands, after finding your cutlery drawer empty an hour earlier, despite the fact that you’d put away all your cutlery only yesterday.

You put the fork away, and then open up a cupboard to grab a glass, only to flinch and scream at what you see.

“Oh my god, Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?”

“This is ridiculous,” you breathe, staring up at your cupboard.

Every single row is squashed full of your soft toys.

“Hey, Y/N, are you listening to me? Hello? Can you hear me?”

You blink up in extreme despair at the cupboard before shutting the door. You don’t have the energy to deal with it right now. “Yeah, I’m here,” you say, holding the phone more securely against your ear. “Listen, I might have to call you back. I still haven’t fully unpacked yet.”

“Are you okay? You screamed and then suddenly went silent.”

Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes for a moment and then open them again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you later, alright?”

You hang up, and walk out of the kitchen and into the hallway, before pausing in your tracks, staring wide-eyed at the front door.

The front door that was wide open.

You blink.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the door begins to swing shut, before suddenly closing with a sudden bang.

You stand there for a moment longer, before shaking your head and walking up the stairs.

Whichever ghost was haunting you, they sure were weird.

───────────── 👻

“Hey, Hansol, why is this tenant not leaving?”

“I told you. You shouldn’t do this.”

“Hmm, nah. It’s okay. It’s only been a week. I can do this.”

“Should you, though?”

───────────── 👻

Hansol is, unfortunately, so dead.

Very much in the literal sense as well, because he's a ghost. Don't ask him about the logistics of that, or how it came to be, because he doesn't know. All he knows is that one day he died and the next, he opened his eyes and no one could see him. 

But he's also so dead in the figurative sense, too. Because he and his Jeonghan hyung (who was technically a year or so younger than him when he died but still insists on being called ‘hyung’ because he died around a century earlier than him, and “you ought to respect people’s deathdays, Hansol”) have been inhabiting this house for several years, now, but he’s never had a desire to be human again in all that time.

That is, until he meets you.

You’re the latest owner of this house, and you’re… well, you're interesting.

Never before has he seen someone so tolerant of Jeonghan’s schemes. In his attempt to win at a bet that he’d created by himself, Jeonghan was pulling out all the big guns on you: starting off by being a nuisance, then an irritant, then infuriating before escalating into downright chaotic, in a climax where he made all the doors open and slam repeatedly in the middle of the night.

It’s enough to make anyone want to move out. Hansol half-expected you to leave within the first five days, but instead, you clench your jaw and plaster a smile on your face and keep on going.

He thinks it’s a little curious that you’re putting on a smile, even though there’s no one to see it. Like you’re constantly always alert of people watching you, and feeling the need to put on a mask. It makes him want to be human, just for a second, to put a hand on your shoulder and ask if you’re really okay.

During the second week, however, he realises that you really aren’t okay.

“The tenant still hasn’t gone to sleep,” Jeonghan sulks, floating through your bedroom door to sit (well, hover) beside Hansol on the floor just outside. 

“You can just say Y/N,” Hansol reminds him. “What do you mean, though? All humans are meant to be asleep by now.”

“Yeah, well, ours isn’t,” Jeonghan huffs. He crosses his arms petulantly, and his translucent ghost self flickers and wobbles at the dramatic movement. “Why not?”

Hansol shrugs. “How am I meant to know?”

Before Jeonghan can say something snarky in reply, the door to your bedroom door swings open, and the two ghosts flinch and freeze up, momentarily forgetting that they're ghosts. 

They watch as you slowly trudge down the stairs, muttering annoyedly to yourself. You had a dressing gown drawn over you, and you hug it against yourself while you shuffle through your house, before walking into the kitchen.

Hansol looks at Jeonghan, and the other just shrugs, and they both decide to follow you and see what you’re up to.

Hansol peeks his head through the wall just as you pop a few pills into your mouth.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asks, pushing Hansol through the wall so that he’s standing in the kitchen properly. “Are those drugs?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hansol says, and then floats closer so he can see the writing in the bottle you’re holding. It doesn’t help, though, because the writing is all faded, like this is a bottle you’ve had for a while. “Medicine? But what for?”

Jeonghan folds his arms, sitting on the table. “Great. Our new tenant is dying.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop being mean now?” Hansol asks, coming to sit next to Jeonghan.

“I’m not mean.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not! When have I ever been mean, hm? Tell me, Hansol!”

Suddenly, there’s a clatter, and a mess of white pills spread out across the floor, under the table and throughout the entire kitchen. Both of the ghosts, pause, and when Hansol looks up, his eyes widen.

You’re looking directly at him.

No one says anything, and for a long, long moment, you continue to stare directly at Hansol, and he swallows uneasily, glancing over at Jeonghan. The other ghost is just sitting there, too, but he’s looking at you with interest, eyes flicking between you and Hansol.

“It’s… it’s not me, right?” Hansol says hesitantly. “Surely our tenant isn’t seeing me.”

“Try moving,” Jeonghan says, and directs his gaze back to you. There’s not a trace of wariness in his eyes, and Hansol feels more confused than ever. Jeonghan was the one who said that the last family ought to be kicked out because their dog could see them.

Nevertheless, arguing with Jeonghan wastes fifteen years of Hansol’s (undead) lifetime every time, so he does as he’s told, hopping off from the table and almost falls on his face when your eyes track his movements as he does so.

“Holy shit,” you whisper. Hansol’s beginning to feel a bit panicky now. “Dude, I can see through you.”

And then your eyes glaze over and you crumple into a heap on the floor.

────��──────── 👻

“Y/N can see us,” Hansol says, pacing frantically. “Hyung, we’re doomed! We’re—we’re gonna get exorcised and go to Hell and have to meet the Devil!”

Jeonghan just hums, looking down at your sleeping form. “I don’t think so.”

After you had fainted, the two ghosts had (very painstakingly) carried you back up the stairs and back into bed. It takes a huge amount of effort for ghosts to be able to make themselves felt in the living plane, and Hansol had been gasping from the effort for a solid hour afterwards.

Now, though, the exhaustion has worn off, and he’s currently making Jeonghan mildly dizzy with all his pacing.

“Hyung.” Hansol whirls around again to face Jeonghan, making the elder ghost raise his eyebrows. “You know what this means, right? This tenant is unwell. You’re not allowed to play your tricks anymore.”

That makes Jeonghan pause. He bites his thumb, then, thinking, before nodding his head. “Fine. I don’t like tormenting the sick, anyways. It hurts to think about.”

Hansol sighs at that, mouth twisting in sympathy. He pats Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Don’t think about it. You’ve been dead for ages, hyung. I’m surprised your memory is still intact.”

Jeonghan scowls, pinching Hansol’s side, making the younger ghost yelp and then laugh. “Hey! We’re basically the same age.”

“Give or take around a hundred years.”

“Yeah, barely anything!”

The two ghosts continue bickering, their voices absorbed into the nothingness that was the plane of the dead. 

In your bed, you turn your head towards the direction of warped voices, squinting at the faint outlines that you can see near the window.

───────────── 👻

“—really handsome dude, oh my god,” you’re saying while you sort through your papers. Your laptop still hasn’t turned up. “Is there any side effect of taking sleeping pills again after a long time of not using them that, like, causes hallucinations of hot guys?”

Over the phone, your friend laughs. “I guess living by yourself really is making you go insane, huh?”

“I’m not insane,” you insist, chuckling. “It sounds insane, but I swear, he was so…” You hide your face behind your hand, despite the fact that no one can see you. 

“That gorgeous, huh?” comes the response from the other end of the line, and you get the distinct feeling that your friend doesn’t really believe you. You take your hand away from your face, trying to rub away the blush on your cheeks.

“Yeah, actually, he was! Anyway, I gotta go. I still haven’t found my laptop, and doing all my work by hand isn’t going well.”

“Go to the library and use a computer there.”

You pause. “Oh. Good idea. I’ll do that tomorrow. Goodnight, I gotta go now.”

There’s a laugh on the other end. “Okay. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The two ghosts sit on your bed, watching you as you hang up the phone and go back to your work.

“So,” Jeonghan says, and his tone is light and teasing, “Y/N thinks you’re pretty gorgeous, huh? I guess you really were seen, after all.” He nods his head in your direction. “Our new tenant is definitely really interesting.”

Silence falls again, and Hansol watches you agonise over your sheets, one hand permanently buried in your hair.

“Hyung,” he says after a moment, “You should give Y/N the laptop back.”

───────────── 👻

“Stupid goddamn insomnia,” you mutter to yourself, trudging down the stairs yet again. “Why can’t I go to sleep?”

You’ve been in your new house for just over two weeks, now, and things are… normal. After the initial weird things happening during the first several days, everything seems to have settled down, almost like the house had gotten used to its new owner. It makes you laugh, every time you think of it in that way, but there’s no other way to explain how the sudden door slammings have stopped, and all your things seem to be exactly where you left them.

And even the other day, you’d found your laptop again.

Everything was going well.

A flash of big, translucent brown eyes flash across your vision, and you shake your head, trying to dispel the memory.

You despise taking your pills, hate them for how drowsy they make you throughout the rest of the day, but just over a week into moving in, you’d caved and succumbed to their awful numbness. Your insomnia had flared up, almost, as if panicked by the new environment, leaving you unable to sleep for several days.

Strangely, though, after you’d had that… vision, you’d been able to sleep easier for a while. 

Large, surprised eyes flood your memory again, and you frown, scrunching your eyes and attempting to get rid of it.

That boy hadn’t appeared in your vision again after that night, and you’ve reluctantly convinced yourself that it had just been a side effect of the sleeping pills and your own lack of sleep. Hallucinations weren’t uncommon with strong sleeping pills, after all.

You finish downing your pills, drinking the entire mug of water for good measure, before wiping your mouth and setting the mug down on the counter. 

Groggily, you rub your eyes and attempt to head out of the kitchen, stumbling a little as you go. Just because you can’t sleep doesn’t mean you aren’t tired, after all. It’s just your stupid body not allowing you to fall asleep.

Abruptly, your foot catches against your other ankle, and you slam into the doorframe with a cry of pain. Eyes still bleary, you move jerkily only to feel yourself keeling over backwards, falling faster and faster towards the floor, and then—

A pair of arms catch you, and you fall back against a sturdy chest that stumbles, just slightly, under your weight, before gaining control and slowly lowering you to the floor, still in their embrace, head in their lap.

Your head is spinning, vision blurry, but as you look up, the sight that stares back at you is as clear as day.

Big, brown, translucent eyes.

Your own eyes widen in shock, and the pair of eyes staring into yours widen too.

“Oh my god,” you say. “How did you get into my house?”

The boy above you opens and closes his mouth wordlessly. “Um… I live here?”

“Like hell you do,” you return. Before you can say anything else, however, the feeling of his arms disappears and you drop the last few inches onto the floor, back making contact with the hard wood. You yelp in pain, and he cringes apologetically.

“Sorry! Sorry. Uh, it’s hard to make myself tangible for long. I didn’t meant to do that. Sorry.”

You sit up, rubbing your back. “Wait, what do you mean? Are you not…”

Another boy steps into your vision. No—he floats, feet constantly millimeters from the ground. He bends down over the boy sitting on the floor next to you, looking down at you with interest. “I’m surprised that you’ve managed to make yourself visible to our tenant for so long, Hansol.”

You blink, lost. “Hey, I can see you too, you know.”

The new boy looks bewildered at that. “You can?” Then his eyes widen. “And you can hear me?”

“You’re talking, aren’t you?” You narrow your eyes. “Is this some prank? Halloween is right around the corner, after all. Are you playing with me?”

“No, no!” The boy who caught you shakes his head frantically. “No, we’d never. Well, Jeonghan hyung might, but I wouldn’t.” He pauses, and then smiles hesitantly, standing up. “Um… we’re ghosts?”

You don’t say anything for a long moment. And then you tap your chin thoughtfully. “Prove it.”

“Please don't pani—what?”

“Prove it,” you say, and then shrug. “I gotta make sure that you’re really ghosts, you know? How do I know that you’re what you say you are?”

The other ghost, Jeonghan, raises an eyebrow. “Why would we lie to you?”

“I dunno. You’re bored?”

Jeonghan thinks about it for a moment, before nodding. “Fair point.” And then, abruptly, he walks up to you, and you expect him to stop right before you, but to your surprise, he carries on going and walks right through you instead.

“Jesus!” you shiver, a horrible coldness running down your spine. “Don’t do that!”

Jeonghan just beams. “Do you believe us now?”

You look back at Hansol, thinking. If you tilt your head just slightly, he flickers out of focus, like a mirage. But when you look at him in just the right angle, he looks as present as any human, only a little less so. Like he’s almost here, but not quite.

After a second, you nod your head. “I suppose you really are ghosts,” you say, and there’s just enough awe in your voice to make Hansol’s eyes widen in confusion.

“You’re… not going to run away?”

“Are you kidding? This is so cool,” you say, clasping your hands together. You grin. “It was getting lonely here anyway. And besides, you’re also really pretty.” Your eyes widen at your own words, and you backtrack. “Uh, pretty cool. That’s what I meant. Ghosts are cool, you know?”

Jeonghan laughs. “Hansol already knows that you think he’s gorgeous. We heard you.”

Instantly, a flush surges up into your cheeks, and Hansol rubs at his nose, embarrassed, before punching Jeonghan in the shoulder. He doesn’t deny it, though, which makes you feel kind of really flustered, but there’s a shy smile on his face as he looks at you.

“I think you’re also really pretty, too,” he says, and goddamnit, a ghost shouldn’t have the power to make you blush like this.

Jeonghan is about to say something, but then gets interrupted when, abruptly, a yawn wracks your frame and you cover your mouth, face scrunching up.

“Well, I think I need to head to bed,” you say, rubbing at your eyes. “Think I’m finally getting tired.”

That makes Hansol almost wilt in disappointment, and it’s such a cute sight that you almost reach over to ruffle his hair. Which is weird. Because he’s a ghost, and also because you hardly know him, but there’s something just so endearing about Hansol that makes you feel like you want to know him forever and ever.

Slowly, you make your way back upstairs, the ghosts trailing after you.

“I’m going to pester you both with questions tomorrow,” you inform them as you get into bed. “Like, about how I’m able to see ghosts and why I can hear you and how long you’ve both been here. I really will.”

Jeonghan laughs. “We look forward to it. It’s been a while since we’ve had someone other than each other to talk to. I think we’ll both like your company.” He nudges Hansol in the side, smile turning devious. “Hansol even more so than me.”

Hansol groans, covering his face, and you just smile, too drowsy to think of what that means at the moment.

“Leave my room before I go to sleep,” you say, as your eyelids close. “I heard you talking in my room a few nights ago, you know. You should know it’s not good to spy on people in their sleep.”

Jeonghan might reply with something, but you’re not entirely sure. Sleep is already pulling you under, pulling you far away from the state of being awake.

The last thing you recall is a cool pressure against your forehead, and a warm voice whispering your name.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar @aaniag @amxlia-stars

[starlightwoofwoof]

You guys want some more info on that Supervillain! EENE AU I made with the Ed Boys a few days ago? No??? well too bad cause here you go-

(I kinda wanted to put more drawings in this for ‘demonstration’ but I didn’t feel like it, but I did do some sooooo

also I haven’t thought about the backstories for any of them but maybe I will at some point)

Patient E :

Patient E is, in fact, a zombie (I mean obviously but yeah, just wanted to say so lol)

Since Patient E is a zombie, he does have cravings for humans, and he can get very aggressive sometimes

Sometimes Patient E just refers to himself as ‘E’, to make it all less complicated

Patient E can barely remember what he was like before, he can’t even remember his old name, despite it just being one letter off

As for his personality, other than being aggressive when he’s hungry, E is usually just bored or annoyed, depending on the situation

I still like to think remnants of Ed are still in him, though. For example, like I showed in a doodle from last time, he still loves chickens :> (they’re pretty much one of the only things he always sees as friends and not food)

As for his powers, Patient E’s bites are infectious, but they’re only infectious if he manages to break the skin. Any gentle nibbles aren’t anything to worry about

Sometimes Patient E has to be chained up in Dr. Dread’s cellar when he gets too aggressive, but Doc does try to give him at least something to eat

honestly I’m kinda wondering if I should even call him a villain, he doesn’t really do anything evil, other than him being a bloodthirsty zombie-

If the trio co-existed, Patient E would have an alright relationship with them, especially with Dr. Dread, since he hangs out with him a lot

E can speak, but he doesn’t speak a lot. He usually grumbles one word answers, or just makes zombie noises

Despite being a zombie, E is still pretty strong. Not as strong as Ed, but he can pick up his friends if he wanted

The wounds E have luckily don’t hurt him much, he just kind of finds his dangling eye annoying sometimes when it gets in the way of things

His rashes can get pretty irritable, though

Dr. Dread :

Dr. Dread is a mad scientist, and his powers are making potions with various effects

Since Double D stated that he is a pacifist (… sometimes-), Dr. Dread usually uses his potions on himself or non-violent potions on others (he can get violent if he really needs to though)

These potions are usually transformative in multiple ways, and their colors can range from any color of the rainbow

He can only use potions one at a time though, he can’t just pile up the effects to make him super powerful or something lol

Dr. Dread doesn’t like it when people refer to him as his old name, dismissing it immediately. He’s fine with still being called Double D by anybody he sees as a friend, though, because it still fits

He also likes just being called ‘Doc’

Doc is a lot like Edd in some ways. He still loves reading and doing research on things, bugs, and organizing his books and science stuff

Dr. Dread can get very angry, very easily, especially if something goes wrong

Doc has a very loud, very villainous cackle

(in the whole co-exist thing-) Doc likes to experiment on Patient E, he’s always curious if he could bring him back to being fully human

Dr. Dread likes to call everyone his “little lab rats” lol

Doc has ‘name tagged’ Patient E before on his back. E doesn’t mind it

Doc’s horns and the end of his beanie are made up of chemical smoke, and it’s intangible, so you could move anything through them if you wanted-

Doc is pretty snobby when it comes to his massive superiority complex (like- he’s giving “I think I know more about American Girl than you do, genius” /ref, but with any topic he knows a lot about)

??? :

This villain Eddy is made up of two different sides that are now stuck together

The blue side is always upset, worried or crying, and the red demon side is angry and greedier than ever

Depending on the situation, his voice is a mix of Eddy sobbing and Eddy either talking in a ‘whispery-growl’ or screaming at the top of his lungs

The demon side is kinda inspired by Professor Scam with the monocle, the cape, the gloves-

If I ever do give him a backstory, it’ll probably have to do something with, y’know, the whole thing that happened in the Big Picture Show

Everyone usually just refers to him as “The Twins”, “Blue and Red”, or something similar

I haven’t thought too much about what his powers are, but I like to think it has to do something with like, opposite things (water and fire maybe?? It makes sense cause one’s all about crying and the other is a demon soooo)

As for the blue side to his personality, I wouldn’t exactly say he goes out of his way to try to do nice things exactly since he’s so sad all the time, but he definitely doesn’t go out of his way to be cruel either (mainly due to his guilt)

Red, however, claims that he wants to be the ‘best scam artist the world has ever known’, soooooooo yeah, he’s a lot more evil than the blue side 💀

The two sides contradict themselves and also fight with each other all the time, due to their different personalities and morals

Red has a lot of bad habits, including talking over people, interrupting, and getting very violent sometimes

He also accidentally bumps his horns and tail into things all the time, which annoys him a lot

(In the co-exist thing-) He fights with Dr. Dread all the time due to how angry they both can get, but he’s more chill with Patient E

He still really loves jawbreakers (both of them do, jawbreakers being great is literally one of the only things that they can agree on 💀)

Blue tries to give Patient E jawbreakers sometimes, but usually fails at doing so due to Red’s greed taking over

Red’s arm is unusually long, which kinda gives him a more ‘creepier’ appearance

Alright, I think that’s all I can think of for now buuuuuttttttttt I guess to make up for the lack of art in thissssss

here are some lazy screenshot redraws/edits with them :3

[merbear25]

Reverse role : Caesar as a Guinea pig

Because of this art, i can"t help but wander how Caesar would react, being tied up, being the guinea pig of someone else. An other scientist just decided to experiment on him, possibly on his devil fruit powers, on his weird goat anatomy, who knows... You can do him alone, or with a xreader as another victim, or an assistant of the Mad Scientist torturing him... PS : Good luck, you're fan fic and headcanons are always amazing and well written !!!

So...This ended up being...way longer than I thought it was going to be. He is my muse and the inspiration he gives me knows no bounds. Thank you for sending this in! I hope you like it! 💜💜 artist of pic

The man known as Caesar Clown had piqued your interest in more ways than one. His dastardly reputation aside, the devil fruit abilities he possessed proved to be some of the most useful you’d ever come across. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to explore the extent of such powers…

CW: no sexual themes, gn!reader, some fluff, reader is a mad scientist, experiments (needles, tubes, restraints, torture), during Egghead arc at Germa (some spoilers)

For research purposes (Caesar Clown)

Those who succeeded in this life did so by taking what they saw as theirs. Cruelty and aggression outshined comradery and empathy more often than not when making a name for oneself. Vegapunk, Judge, Queen, and Caesar were among the most notable in your field having created their names through means others may view as unethical.

Their reputations painted vivid pictures of the lives they must have led and the future they were destined for. With powers complimenting personal tastes, there was one who stood out from the others—Caesar.

To be given the chance to explore the inner workings of that man’s mind felt like something so far out of reach that even wishing on a star would’ve seemed more realistic. The granting of said wish would open the floodgates of possibilities. Wishful thinking, head in the clouds, such starry eyes were assumed to have no place in this world.

Being someone relatively unknown to the field of science came with its downfalls: prone to being overlooked, undervalued, underappreciated. However, it was only others who viewed these as such. Those who lacked the capability to see below the surface inadvertently were wide open to falling victim to their own nescience. With the lab being riddled with shallow opinions of you, using them to your advantage was the key you’d use to unlock the doors to areas previously off limits. 

To be recruited by Judge Vinsmoke as a, how it was put, helping hand felt like you’d had the wind knocked out of you. Of all people to have recognized the talents you displayed, it got you wondering why he called upon you specifically.

The waters were rippling with the ambiguity of your future at Germa 66. Suspicion, distrust, skepticism: your body language made it known that the invitation felt more like coercion. Scouring through your mind of the past you’d left behind, there were barely any traces left of how you made use of the resources you’d been stealing. Given the circumstances, it was becoming more and more probable that someone caught wind of your deeds.

As the blonde man towered over you, his gaze remained unphased by the challenge behind your eyes.

“Why would you ask me to work under you?”

Before he had the chance to answer, clouds of gas cascaded over his shoulders and led right to you, swirling around your feet. His colleague manifested, lurching over Judge to get a better look at you.

“Why indeed?” The innotation of his question proved the acrimony of your mere presence.

An irritated grumble shook in Judge’s throat.

Standing at full height, Caesar scoffed at him. “What? You expect me not to greet this little… helper you hired? A nobody?” He fiddled his long fingers in the space above your head.

“Starting off hostile is not exactly “greeting,” he claimed.

Caesar’s face twisted in a peevish frown, knowing full well that Judge was offering him sanctuary from the bounty hunters looking to make a quick buck.

Shooting a glare down his nose at you, he cleared his throat once returning his focus to his business partner. “Fine,” he feigned level-headedness. “Just be sure your little pet doesn’t get under my feet.”

With the clown having left the room, Judge motioned you over to a more secluded area. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

The blunt words gave a hint to all of the dirt he’d been collecting. Your face was grave, yet you kept yourself mentally prepared if worse came to worst.

Staring at you with a stone-walled expression, he continued, “I believe I may have some use for you.”

“For what exactly?”

His eyes were locked on you, as if looking at you from under a microscope. “Have you any idea how difficult you are to keep track of? You have an act for leaving your crime scenes without so much of a trace.”

“And what is it th—”

“Caesar and I,” he interrupted, “joined forces to beat an old rival. Now that Vegapunk’s dead, I have no further use for Caesar as a business partner. However, there are other, more classified ways I could squeeze him for all he’s worth.”

Your demeanor shifted slightly, no longer in a defensive stance. “You want me to…test on him?”

He gave a subtle nod. “Gather as much information as you can. Then, report back to me.”

“Do you want him to live?” Your voice was low, asking such a question held an obvious omen.

“Just give me the information I require.” His voice was thick with apathy towards the safety of someone he’d known for a large portion of his life. “If he’s left alive, make sure he won’t talk.”

“Understood.” You took the file he handed to you containing the details of what he was requesting.

After his leaving, you thumbed through your assignment. Researching the extent of the gas gas fruit’s effects on the human body and his specific anatomy was the summary of it all.

Capturing, or rather lurering, a man into the restraints of an examination table wouldn’t be an easy task. However, seeing as this man in particular had been a quirky interest of yours for some time, there were recurring shortcomings that you took notice of:

Firstly, he was weak to praise, although this would need to be done tactfully so as not to raise suspicion. Secondly, he could not defend himself without his powers, which meant getting the seastone cuffs on him would almost guarantee his capture.

With an idea of how to go about this, you examined your surroundings. To be familiar with the walls that sealed you in was to ensure success.

You passed by the entrance of the lab one too many times for Caesar’s liking. A disgruntled  man brooded in his own displeasure of your pacing.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be other than that damn hallway?” He shouted at you, catching sight of your pant leg just as he turned around.

Pausing for a moment just out of sight, you pondered whether or not to confront him. You chose to ignore him.

“Hey!” You heard him screeching and chasing after you. “Hey! You can’t just ignore me!”

“You just reminded me of something, is all.” You took in the size of the man you’d eventually have to drag away. “So, thank you for that.” The smile you paired with your supposed gratitude came off as sincerely as you intended it to.

“Well, good. Get out of here then!” He huffed and stomped off.

You watched him disappear back into the room, leaving you to fiddle where you’d designated to play out the depths of your task.

His mind flooded with whispers of your purpose there: why you? What did Judge see in you? Surely there was something remarkable about you, but what? Your pacing, albeit having ceased, was lingering. What were you up to? Why did Judge insist on you being there?

The thoughts spiraled, turning into a whirlwind. With his concentration side-tracked, carelessness spread to his hands. His fingertips shook ever so slightly, but it was enough to cause an accident at his workstation. He cried out from the sudden shock and singe, further unleashing more chaos in that room.

His screams were hardly anything you or anyone could miss. The gentle self-soothing thoughts he spoke out loud to himself trailed out the doorway, unintentionally bringing you to his side.

“Would you like help?”

Another panicked gasp escaped him, nearly jumping out of his skin and causing him to bump his head on the table he was under. “Wha-? Didn’t anyone tell you not to sneak up on people?” 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” your tone held no ill-intent.

“F-fine! Just…grab that kit over there.”

Cleaning up the mess he made was done in uncomfortable silence. No thank you would be given, but that was fine with you. Being that close to him would be his indirect way of giving thanks.

Without being told, you fetched the materials he wasted. You were able to tell what the fluid consisted of based on its color and burn on his hand.

“Perhaps, you aren’t as useless as I thought you were,” he spat out.

“Well, it helps when it’s combined to perfection.” Your voice wrapped around him.

His cautious sideways glance caught your gaze. You pointed at the uniquely colored chemical burn on his hand. “This helped too.”

The smirk upon your face left him flustered—how nice. He began fumbling with the mess of papers, refusing to make eye contact—how cute. Then, he shouted at you to get out of his sight—how pathetic.

“I thought I said to–!” The room was as quiet without you as it was with you in it. Looking around, he knew he was now totally alone with nothing but the faint whispers to keep him company.

Secluding yourself to the room destined to live out your wildest dreams—stoned walls and white tiled floors were meant to feel cold, yet they filled you with warmth. The lights dangling above were headache inducingly bright, but to you they lit the path of tasks to come.The room which held a past that would make others shudder was seen through rose-tinted glasses.

Going to collect the seastone cuffs and syringe that had been hidden away in preparation, you took a moment to admire the sheer size of the castle you were in. The grand entrance you passed through with a ceiling high enough to make you feel as if you were an ant, the long entry rug embroidered with golden swirls and tassels at the sides: truly remarkable in every sense of the word.

Lost in thought, you almost didn’t catch on to the onlooker peeking behind the corner. Your eyes flickered to the side, giving you a glimpse of the horned man ducking back behind the wall. He was more inquisitive than you’d envisioned.

With a smile ghosting your lips at the thought of having your turn at reaping the cream of the crop, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering just what was going on in that head of his and just how good it was going to be to find out.

Cuffs and syringe tucked away securely in your inner coat pockets, feet carrying you to the place where you last saw him, and a plan set in motion long before you ever crossed that entry’s threshold: the chains of destiny were unraveled, ready to shackle that who sat before you.

His curses were mumbled in a low growl, ignorant to the stalking shadow. You peered over his shoulder, gathering that his overworked mind was missing the obvious piece to this problem he was wrecking his brain for.

Before you had a chance to speak, he leaned his head against his hand and saw you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fucking hell!” You just about gave him a heart attack. “We should put a damn bell on you!” He said while still attempting to soothe his racing pulse.

“Perhaps, I will for your sake.” An airy laugh accompanied the amusement you tried to suppress.

With him turning back to his work, unaware that the answer was clear as day, he half-heartedly shooed you away. “I’m very busy, so if you don’t have any thoughts swarming in that little head of which I can make use…” He flicked his wrist at you.

“It seems that you’ve exhausted yourself,” you hummed softly as you pointed at the vile that held the solution.

His eyes fell on it, then back to his notes. Begrudgingly, he felt inclined to agree that a break might suit him.

His guard was down. Though only for a moment, it was enough for the adrenaline to course through you.

Clamping a wrist with the cuff, a swift head butt to the face gave you enough time to secure his other wrist. Just before he came to, you stabbed the needle into him.

Jumping at the small opening, you tied him against the backrest of the rolling chair. The lazy stare he held on you went in hand with a grimace—What a sight to behold. His seething remarks were slurred, and as his eyes drooped, they stayed on you for as long as the serum allowed.

“Shhh, there, there. It will all be over soon.” Even you couldn’t convince yourself of the lie seeping through your teeth.

Rolling him out of the room, there wouldn’t have been the possibility of you transporting him without the rickety wheels. The dead-weight was carefully pushed onto the table with grunts and huffs. 

Your eyes washed over him. You tugged at his suit. “This just won’t do.”

The blade you wielded glided through the fibers, revealing more and more of his lean body to you. Peeling off the shredded cotton fabric piece by piece, the metal restraints and tubes you attached to his neck and sides made him appear far more dashing than any article of clothing ever could.

Whimpers sounded from behind, while you were finishing the preparations for the experiments.

“H-he…!” He struggled to scream. “H-help!” The strangled pleas only fell on deaf ears.

You approached him, observing each quiver of absolute terror beading out of his pores. The attempt he made to wiggle away from you, in spite of his restraints, had you cocking your head. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Your tone was eerily playful. 

You leaned in closer, not giving him any other choice but to look at you. “You were always my favorite among the big names of science.” The dreamy attitude of your words, which would have flattered him under normal circumstances, struck him to his core.

“I never thought I’d see you in the flesh, but now…you’re so close I can touch you.” As your finger neared his face, his voice strained to be heard by someone, anyone who could save him.

“Help! P-please! Judge! Save me! Judge! H-ah!” He winced in pain from the tip of your nail digging into the center of his forehead. A spot of blood formed around your skin, trickling down to the bridge of his nose. ‘You bleed nicely’ was a compliment he never wanted to be paid. 

The strangled gasps from him as he tried to break free were curious. The intensity in your eyes burned a hole into him. Tapping on the metal plate around his neck, you reminded him, “The edges are sharp enough to cut you if you move all willy-nilly. You should know that.”

With a quick flick to his face, you left him momentarily to wallow in his own self-pity. “Let’s see,” your mind wandered. “We have quite the assortment on the menu we could pump you with…But, don’t you worry, you’ll get a chance to sample all of them,” you spoke with glee in your voice.

Carefully, you picked out the gem that would start it all and let it flow through the tubes with speed and grace. Each cough, movement, gag, gasp, tear no matter how seemingly insignificant was recorded with diligence.

With some of the solutions causing his veins to bulge, you considered letting him rest. You couldn’t have him dying on the table when there was still so much left to explore.

As he caught his breath, the droop in his face and fall in his eyes caught your attention.

“Hey, now! Stay with me.” You slapped him on the cheek. Checking his heart rate, there were no signs of him flatlining at that moment. 

A long sigh passed your lips as you pulled up a chair. “Oh, I see. You’re probably exhausted, aren’t you.” You gently brushed the locks caked in sweat off of his face. His expression softened and a puff of what appeared to be a hint at solace found in your touch parted his lips.

Humming sweetly at this little discovery, your smile was inevitable. “You like that?” You kept your tone comforting and inviting, while you tenderly stroked his face. His brow and lips twitched and his eyes remained closed, as if imagining the affectionate touch being given under different circumstances.

“Who are you thinking of?” You thought to yourself. “Is it someone else? Or could it be a different version of me?” Allowing him to rest was a necessity overall, but there was a part of you that took pleasure in seeing him like this. 

You didn’t want to have to kill him because like it or not, you were growing attached to him. Judge hadn’t given you any specific orders to do so anyway, only to make sure nothing could be traced back. Looking at this weakened man cuddling up to the faintest sign of affection made you feel queasy.

“I’ll make sure you won’t remember any of this,” you whispered.

With hours ticking by, each moment was crucial in completing the order bestowed upon you. Even with your conscience pulling at you to hold back at moments, you knew that doing so would lead to your head on a spike.

A grueling process, one which you were certain you’d enjoy was soured. Looking over your notes, double checking each minute detail, you were confident that everything was in order and accounted for.

Grabbing a small vile from your bag, you came to Caesar’s side once more. Feeble and unable to speak properly, he merely whimpered and shifted his head from side to side in protest. “No, no, no,” was all he could muster.

“Don’t worry, my little lamb. This is something that will help you. I promise.” Your soothing tone, the sincerity in your words, and your compassionate touch: tears beaded in his eyes once more, knowing full well that this side of you would be followed by him suffering.

His locks were shifted, uncovering his ear. Your fingers tenderly massaged the shell of it, as well as his earlobe. With just one droplet, the deed was done. Leaning closer, the feather-like kiss you placed on his temple caused his sobs to cease.

“Shhh, soon you won’t remember a thing. Not even your dreams will reveal the horrors you endured today.” Your voice cradled him. “Which means you won’t remember me…But that’s alright. It doesn’t mean we can’t meet again one day.”

You watched the subtleties in his face closely. As he drifted out of consciousness, you stayed by him to offer a tenderness of which he would have no recollection.

Caesar was put in his corridors, sedated into blissful ignorance. Handing over your findings to Judge and watching as he combed through each detail, the twisting knot in your gut was only becoming more unbearable.

“This will do fine.” His demeanor never faltered from stoic. “Now, to deal with the remains.”

“I can take him.” You spoke out without thinking.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, assuming that the only reason was to conduct more torturous experiments on him.

‘What I mean to say is—”

He put up a hand to stop you. “I don’t want to know. Take him, don’t take him, just as long as you never cross my path again.”

The riled up goat rose from his medicated slumber, making his bad mood everyone else’s problem. Why you were choosing to carry this fiasco of a man with you was beyond Judge, but that was something that you would keep under lock and key just like all of the other secrets your heart held.

[scottsummers-xmen]

Why does he have to be the person everyone goes to? What happened to following the rules and listening to instructions? Why did he become the caretaker instead of the one being taken care of?

Scott thinks back to a simpler time when he’d get praise after a good mission. A “You followed instructions perfectly Scott.” He’d get a sticker or some ice cream if he got injured.

Maybe that's what led to his self sacrificial tendencies. Under all that compassion and heroism was a boy wanting a “good job kiddo.”

And that's just pathetic. He knew what he was getting into when he took the job. He knew being a leader was a thankless job so he shouldn't be complaining.

Scott lays in bed, curled up, hugging himself. He’s breaking and he’s mad. Mad at everyone practically willing it into existence that he’d break. Everyone told him one day he’d snap. What did they know about him anyway?

Scott glances at the picture on his desk of the team…himself missing from the picture… What did they know about him…anyway..? He’s so focused on leading, do they know the real him?...

Does he know the real him?

Scott’s anger melts away and tears fall from under his visor. He’s lost himself in his leadership. What happened to the kid that liked carving wood? What happened to the kid that adored science? What happened to that young boy who had idols and dreams?

His head hurts.

He needs someone. He needs comfort. He needs guidance. He can’t do this anymore.

He’s supposed to be in a meeting. He’s late like the fucking disappointment he is. People are counting on him and here he is being so damn vulnerable. What would they think? Seeing him so pathetic. Crying in bed, hugging himself like some dumb, love-starved dog.

Scott shudders, he feels nauseous. Why is his mind so mean? They were supposed to be on the same team. He feels bad. His head hurts real bad and it feels like there's a hole in his chest. He did too much talking today. Too many people. Too much responsibility. So. Many. Questions.

He wants cuddles. Maybe someone to pet his hair? That would be nice. Tell him how good of a job he’s been doing. How brave and strong he is.

Maybe if he reached out to-

NO!

He wants to reach out? Reach out to who? He’s supposed to lead. How could they still see him as a leader if they get stuck dealing with his irritating vulnerability? If they didn't see him as a leader what good was he? Just some guy with eye issues? No no.. He can't do that. He has to lead.

What about.. Charles?

Charles? The man he disappoints time and time again? The person who saved him and he can't even make the damn man proud?

“He appears to have abandoned you boy. How sad.” Abandoned.. “Another father gone away.”

…

He just wants to make him proud. He wants the Professor to take pride in him. In the leader he changed himself into. The leader Charles wanted.

He certainly didn't feel like a leader right now. His body hurt, the world was spinning. He was crumbling and he just wanted someone.

…

Anyone.

…

He’ll be good. He’ll listen so well. Just care about him please. That's all he wants. Someone to take pride in what he does.

He can’t seem to anymore.