#me in a lab brewing poison

[stars-bean]

The Love Witch (2016) dir. Anna Biller

[existentialcrisis-24-7]

Royalty send their kids to Aflea under the assumption that they will get good magic education while also teaching their kids how to be future rulers, completely unaware that all the staff are fucking cartoon characters who choose chaos every time.

[jmoonjones]

Elain’s love of creating - cooking food, growing plants, creating headache powder - makes me imagine her as a witchy inventor chef, brewing up helpful new concoctions (or snacks) from what she grows in the garden🔬🔮🍄 

Since it’s Elain Week let’s look at what she’s been whipping up in her kitchen-laboratory, in collaboration with her lab conspirators Nuala and Cerridwen 💊🍩💾🧁🧪

I FORGOT FOXGLOVE WAS A POISON!! Im definitely not suggesting poisoning - it’s only he’s a fox who gave her gloves! It was for the word play!! 😭 I would take a bullet for Lucien, so absolutely nothing nefarious in mind!!

(I’m looking forward to her book so much! 🌸)

[milkavetch]

divus crewel x reader (headcanons/fic)

pairing: Pomefiore housewarden! crewel x vice-housewarden! reader (gn! reader, reader is not yuu)

content: rivals to lovers, fluff

word count: ~1800

With eyes on the position of housewarden, you and Crewel are locked in a rivalry. Headcanons for your ever-changing relationship during the academic year.

It was preposterous. You didn’t want to accept this loss. The poison that Crewel brewed was barely any better than yours. When the headmage announced the winner of the competition, and consequently the unchanging Pomefiore housewarden, you wanted to protest. You held back any remarks, forced a smile, and shook his hand.

(Deep inside, you knew, Crewel did deserve the win. He was just slightly more precise. You were watching him the whole time- His intuition of when to add each ingredient was sharp and his assessment of his potion’s potency was better than yours. You’d rather drink your own potion and his than let him know, though.)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

With no time to recover from your loss, Crewel had already approached you again, insisting to talk. You reluctantly agree. He’s a third-year-- not a good idea if you were to get on his bad side now.

He appointed you as vice-housewarden, to your great dismay. It felt insulting -- if this position wasn’t earned by your own skill, did it really mean anything? It was gifted to you by your rival, no less! 

“It’s because of your talent in potionology, and you're only in your second year,” Crewel had said, with that annoying smirk of his. “I couldn’t see anyone else more fitting to lead Pomefiore with me.” You knew he was lying. The closer you were to him the more he was able to monitor you. He’s pulling at strings so you won’t beat him to Housewarden.

You smile, feigning cooperation. Two can play this game. The closer you were to him the easier it is to find his weakness - unravel the threads of his character - break him down. 

“It would be a great honor to serve as your vice-house warden,” you bite back. The smile that played on your lips was no more than a friendly forefront, and you knew he knows that too.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

From an outsider’s perspective, the two Pomefiore housewardens get along well enough. As expected, you both represent Pomefiore’s in-campus events and student meetings. There was enough cooperation in keeping your dorm’s reputation in check.

If one were to look a bit closer, one might notice the hostile attitude that seeped through both of your interactions. 

An unnecessary remark here and there-- “Rewrite this proposal form- your wording is nothing but confusing”, “you’re uniform is crooked, and you call yourself the housewarden?” -- done for the sole reason of riling each other up.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

It’s another story within the walls of the Pomefiore residence, though. The other students are no strangers to their housewardens’ bickering.

“We are not calling the headmage back to supervise another duel this month,” Crewel would tell you after your persistent nagging. He smiles snarkily, closing the distance between you both - faced merely inched away from each other.

“And, is another duel really worth it when you’ve barely improved? The results won’t change~”. You watch him walk away, his robe swaying. “Don’t forget about the meeting tomorrow, pup,” he calls back to you, not turning around.

Pup? What does that even mean? You’re Irritated, yet you leave it at that.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

As the semester goes on, you both butt heads less. Not that you’ve given up on taking Crewel down, no. School works just sometimes gets in the way.

Sometimes you’d be in the Pomefiore labs, practicing some recipes when you get unwanted company.

“The recipes call for crushed dawn-weeds, and those are not crushed enough.” You flinch, almost dropping your mortar, whipping your head around to see Crewel watching you with his arm crossed.

“And your cauldron is not hot enough,” he continues, walking over to observe your concoction a bit closer—his shoulder brushes against yours.

You huff, really not wanting to deal with this right now. “What, miss me so much you’ve come after me, Crewel?”

“Just checking to see if you’ve given up on being Housewarden or not,” Crewel responds. “Add the dawn-weed now, it’s at boiling level.”

You oblige. If he’s going to start tutoring you now you’ll make sure he regrets it in the end when you take his position away from him.

(The potion ended up being perfect according to your potionology professor. You reluctantly take the compliment and burn Crewel’s advice into your brain for later.)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You started seeing Crewel more often whenever you are in the lab. Sometimes he’s there to work, other times he seemed to have come just to debate with you. Today, he was working on an assignment. You’ve both fallen into a rhythm - moving around the room quietly, minding your own business.

“Do you have the cherry seeds?” You hear Crewel call from his side of the room. You hum in acknowledgment, going back to your work. Footsteps echoing in the distance let you know he was heading over.

He’s suddenly leaning over your shoulder, his face so close to your own-- you can smell the cologne he’s wearing. It’s musty, yet sweet… there are too many notes you couldn’t describe. He picks up the vial of cherry seeds in front of you and as he pulls back, you made eye contact. Ah, shit- was it that obvious you were staring?

As he’s heading back to his workstation, you wonder to yourself why your cheeks were so warm. He’s just an acquaintance- no- a rival… right? Why is your heart beating faster than usual? 

(You shake off the feeling, getting back to your work. Still distracted, you accidentally spilled the concoction you had made.)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Yet another duel passes… and you lost. Again. Not that this was new, but something deep in your heart is beating you up over this loss particularly. Why weren’t you improving? More than half the school year has gone by now.

It was late at night, and you were cooped up in the lab. The poison you had made… where did it go wrong this time? Did you let it boil too long? Did that denature the enzymes so the reaction failed? Or did you--

“Are you here, pup?”. Ah, that voice. You would rather not talk now, thank you.

“Crewel, I’d really rather not deal with you now,” You mumble. The hostility in your voice was lost long ago, Fatigue setting in.

“The headmage wanted to see us housewardens before classes tomorrow. You should be in bed… Or are you going to sit and wallow in your loss like this?” He asks. Ouch. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

As much as his comment hits you, it also snapped you out of your slump. “Like hell I am,” you say, pushing yourself up from the desk. Crewel’s right, there are things to do rather than regret something that already passed.

When you pass him on the way out, he gives your hair a quick ruffle. “You are improving, you know? It’s getting harder and harder each time to come up with recipes to beat you.” You feel his hand linger for a while before he lets go. You fall in step with each other, before splitting off into your own rooms, both sharing a word of ‘good night’’.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Sometimes you wonder if the events from that night did happen. It must have, though. Your relationship with Crewel had changed- you can tell. There’s much less bitterness, and in a way, you feel as though you understand him a bit better. You hope he thinks the same about you, too.

Crewel would show up less to the labs, but there wasn’t anything strange about that. The third-years had both exams and internships to prepare for. When he does show up, however, he spends much more time with you- hanging around your workstation, offering a comment or tip, and sometimes going out of his way to give you his own notes. 

You’ve decided now. On the final week of the NRC term, you’ll ask for one more duel. A final one to close out your year with Crewel. And this time you will win. Crewel accepts your challenge as soon as he hears of it.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Get the water to a boil, then add the crushed-dawn weeds. Mix until the liquid is opaque. Add the cherry seeds between stirs. Then lower the heat. The recipe you’ve practiced and practiced was carried out with absolute precision-- your hours in the lab finally coming to fruition. You glance over to Crewel, who was also wrapping up his brew.

With both your works presented to the headmage for assessment, you can wait impatiently for the results. 

When the headmage calls your name as the winner, it snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. Wait, did actually say your name just now?

You turn to Crewel, and he nods, offering a celebratory applause before holding his hand out. You take it, suddenly pulling into a hug. There’s a strangled yell from Crewel when you wrap your arms around his, but you feel him hugging you back shortly. 

“Congratulations, my dear vice-housewarden,” He says only for you to hear. “Or should I say my housewarden?”. 

(Breaking from the hug, you regain your composure. The adrenaline from your win buries the feeling of embarrassment from hugging him. It comes back to bite later on).

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What are you planning on doing for your fourth year?”. Standing on the balconies of the dorm, Crewel is next to you, resting his weight on the concrete railing. He shrugs, eyes lingering on the evening sun that marked the last day of your school year.

“I’ve been scouted by some companies as a fashion designer,” He says. You laugh.

“And here I thought you’d go be a teacher or something- after all those times with you in the labs where’d you drill recipes into my head. Well, maybe that’s for the better. I don’t want you bullying the kids.”

Crewel chuckles. “Training the next generation’s puppies, huh? I’ll take that into consideration”. You feel the weight shift next to you as Crewel turns to face you. Something heavy falls upon your head, and you move your hand to touch it. It was smooth and solid-- your fingers brush over the crevices and engraved details. Could this be?

“The housewarden’s crown,” Crewel answers for you, adjusting it on your head. When he was done, he steps back. A small smile graces his face as your eyes met his. “Take care of this for me, will you? You deserve it.”

“With my pleasure,” you respond, smiling back. This time, Crewel is the one who pulls you into an embrace. You take the time to cherish it-- your interactions, your bickering… the connection you’ve built with him. It will be hard imagining next year with him, but that’s a problem for later. For now, theres only you, and him.

this was going to be short, but then I kept writing more :,) I was struggling to end this somewhere, hopefully it makes sense ^^

[aita-blorbos]

Aita for using the school lab equipment to make my coffee..?

I (30 male) use the school lab equipment to make my coffee. I'm a science teacher (specifically chemistry) btw. I have permission to use the school lab

Personally I think coffee made with a beaker tastes super tasty.

One thing is that my colleague (32 male) keeps scolding me for it tho. Tbh in general he tends to be worried about my health and all...

I know its better if I use "normal brewing methods" to make my coffee but yk... It hits diff. Not sure if I gotta continue with the coffee brewing stuff or just stop.

Aita?

Edit: Some people are surprised I haven't died yet from chemical poisoning?

[boxwinebaddie]

to all the guardian angels watching over me --

for you, my treasures, i am working on a gift,

something to lift our spirits while i lift this curse.

( god, i wish i had taken PE a bit more seriously. )

now, it's not much...

but because i've been experiencing alot of stress/panic attacks lately, if you are looking for a little hurt comfort, but mostly comfort, i am writing up a little think piece about Ravesey!Style X Anxiety, what situations/subject matters might be stressors, nervous tics/tells,

and, naturally...

...what the other boy might do to comfort them. <3

again, it's not much ( i wish it could be more, but alas, i have been trying to write for months and my hands hurt almost as much as my heart does ), but i wanted to try and ease back into writing things again, i am inspired endlessly by your requests/questions, would like nothing more in the world than to answer them and hopefully heal the world with a little hate...from ravesey style.

( so you better smile, pendejos. )

but first, a sappy, crappy thanks from ur poorly functioning uncle.

many of you have asked what my days are like ( i'm sorry i got a little graphic and morose down here, but on the bright side, i'm only five ft, so it's far less stuffy than six feet under, right? khlks. what can i say! even as a gallows girl, i'm shallow. <3 call that preposthumo(ro)us. )

buuut anyways, a lot asked how to make my dog days better but tbh? i'm a cat person ( i miss lily :/ ), so i don't need compliments.

your company is more than enough.

( tho, i do 'preciate the gifts you're leaving on uncle death's doorstep )

...so, um...

*rubs neck nervously and accidentally strains it*

Thank You. :'}

on terribly hard days, ( any sans you ) when i wake up with the skin on my face red and broken open after another round of failed antibiotics from another lazy er diagnosis that i don't have/but must because my voice shakes when i talk and i pick my skin when i'm scared, my body heavy, puffy and yet far too light from exertion, a disgusting jaundice yellow against the bruise blue tile of my bathroom floor, trying not to gag as the nauseating, patronizing voices of ugly male doctors echo in my ears with this horrible thing brewing in my body like poison...

..i open your messages, i read your kind words, tell all the loud men in lab coats to shut up, i put the dnr down, and decide...to save myself.

i sit up slowly so i don't get whiplash or come crashing down to earth, ( yk, i've heard it hurts to fall from heaven, but then, hells not far off. )

i think about how if i don't do this, no one will relentlessly hit on my rant park girls and ruin their day, i think of what little silly drink i will weakly brandish in my hideous, chewed up hands for my bev check that day, it helps if i imagine us all together at a picnic table one day, laughing, smiling, drinking our drinks, just dillydalling the day away,

a perfect, beautiful day.

talking about our perfect, beautiful boys.

just me and my perfect, beautiful girls.

but right now...

it's just Fucking. Me. again.

and this biohazardous BITCH who won't pay rent.

and i finally make it up for air, i savor it, then hold my breath so i don't scream at god or waste my very important air on another stupid arrogant man who won't listen and doesn't care, gritting my teeth so hard, all sound and movement softens ( a very sick kind of kindness ), stupidly clinging to my sweat-laden shirt, all cotton and rotten hope,

trying very hard to be 'good', to be a positive role model even outside of the classroom full of small children i loved very much but was too sick to send off to off to the kindergarten i prepped them for...these weird, funny, odd, special, tiny little people i raised in place of their rich, idle parents; tied their shoes, sang them songs, taught them to spell their names...and will probably never, ever see again.

-- but who would want me to practice what i teach and be brave and not cry as i try to remember which parts of the lymphatic system will release pressure in each sagging limb, painstakingly putting my broken doll parts back together by myself in that cursed fucking bathroom which knows me better than any ex i've ever had...

...and because of your strength, my loves,

i remember everyday why even though i am some woman's annoying, inept, yappy purse dog pomerainian that accidentally got dumped on the side of the busy highway, a dumb, useless, fancy, fluffy, fussy thing, doomed from the start, dead on arrival, taken and afraid, shaking in my siren clog hello kitty crocks, scared shitless, with no survival skills, no self-preservation, no strength, that somewhere, way past this horror movie scene, far beyond night that never ends...

crimson dawn B R E A K S.

and it looks a lot...

Like Your Smile. :)

HYH.

-uncle nina xx

[forthegothicheroine]

Best Fragrantica reviews of (some of) my favorite perfumes, Part II

First installment here

Maison Martin Margiela By the Fireplace

Careful not to be worn by this perfume instead of being you the wearer. Not that it is oh so powerful, but it may be too bold of a statement piece for, ahem, some. Wearing BTF when you don't look the part and don't give it sense will have you smelling borderline unhealthy. Like your organs inside have worn off and darkened (and burned out, I guess). Truly as weird as it sounds. The raw thing smells very exciting. I love it ashy. I don't see myself daring any soon, however. And I don't find that it worked for the men I know either, as they have (and I cringe to say) whiter auras and don't fit the "handling cognac by the fire" thing. So I've yet to see it really work, which I'm sure will be great. It's a lovely perfume.

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Bewitched

This is the smell of a witch's brew. She made a special tea for you to drink. You pass out. When you awaken you find yourself in her garden full of poisonous berries, patchouli, weeds, clary sage, and flowers whose petals have been plucked. This is an herbal scent, like walking inside a shop selling only herbs. It's medicinal and like a tea. Not always easy to take in...The smell of sage and musk give it a unisex/masculine quality. I would say that it's more of a guy's type of cologne than a woman's. I would wear it for Halloween with a witch costume or as Morticia Addams. It's really a very engaging scent but it's linear and simple. It's a little green tea and berry. It's got a bite but it's witchy and dark, but not a strong cologne either. For a niche indie frag, not bad.

TokyoMilk Gin & Rosewater

I was in a boutique that carries the Tokyo Milk Curiosite & Bon Bon lines, and I was entranced by this. Florals are not usually my thing, by the way, because I get monster headaches from most of them. Suddenly the salesgirl is RIGHT NEXT TO ME leaning in conspiratorially and says in an awed tone that 'Blake Lively LOVES this one'. OMFG, Blake Lively, you say??!? Like for serious, the real Blake Lively?? OMFG, do you have like, more in the back?!? I'm totally going to buy every bottle you can shove in my basket because BLAKE LIVELY would hang out with me if we ran into each other and then my life could end. Um, not. I almost DIDN'T buy it because of the salesgirls then going into a tizzy about how amazing Blake is. I could not care less, although I'm sure Lively is nice enough. But it did smell cool, so home with me it came, along with the matching lotion.

Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin

It’s an overwhelming fragrance that smells like the bottom of my grandma’s small square leather purse when we went to mass (her old dried up lipstick💄 the powder compact, the newspaper, the pack of strawberry-ish scented kleenex, the peppermints). It’s vintage, it’s a bit suffocating and I have it printed in my memory 4 ever.

Juliette Has a Gun Magnolia Bliss

Anastasia Steele, no longer a virgin. In her Audi A3, the smell of her new car, first edition books and a new life... That's what comes into mind with this perfume. The night Christian took her for the first time on his helicopter. I can imagine this is exactly what she smelled like that night. With Ellie Goulding's Love me like you do playing in the background. 

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540

I’m too embarrassed and ashamed to wear this in public just in case a fragrantica influencer comes out of a bush and starts pointing & laughing at me in front of everyone

Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille

what all the hot daddies in every lana del rey song smell like

Jo Malone Velvet Rose & Oud

If your family was religious, traditionally Asian, or both, you'll know this scent. This is the scent of a temple. This is the scent of an altar. Personally I can never wear this because smelling this brings back so many memories of burning incenses, visiting funerals, and saying prayers and wishes. My bottle is literally sitting on an altar.

Perfumer's Workshop Tea Rose

Speaking of the devil. This scent is the one with the Prada's shoes.

4160 Tuesdays Doe in the Snow

This is borne on a Christmas Eve, under the moonlight, a baby fawn just out of it's mother's womb. The moon is full light casting blue shadows snow lightly falling delicate flakes each one unique on the nose of the new born... Pure fresh Christmas morning air stillness not a sound blanketed with drifts of snow that is Doe In The Snow... pure white innocence...velvet petals so delicate under the driven snow...I have seen this in a dream... Another love... I get it...

[dailycharacteroption]

Hybrid Class Review: Investigator part 2

(art by Nezart on DeviantArt)

Utility and Builds

Now with the preamble out of the way, let’s get into the meat of what makes the investigator tick.

At their core, the investigator gets proficiency with light armor, simple weapons, and a collection of thematically-appropriate weapons revolving around more subtle and dexterous weaponry. They also get a nice selection of class skills and a heaping helping of ranks to put into them, making them a very skill-focused class to begin with.

They also start out learning alchemy the same way alchemists do, able to use it to identify potions and elixers, as well as brew extracts, though they do not gain bombs or mutagens. They use the same spell list as alchemists, though obviously the bomb admixture extracts won’t work for them normally since they don’t gain bombs.

Honestly, I dislike the addition of alchemy to the base investigator, as it seems a little too out of place and/or too much a reference to Sherlock Holmes’ drug habit, but maybe that’s me seeing things that aren’t there.

The biggest mechanic, however, that the investigator is known for is their pool of inspiration. This pool allows them to add an extra d6 to skill checks. They can do this with any skill, though they can do it for free with knowledge skills and linguistics as long as they’ve trained in them. Additionally, they can spend double the points to use them with attacks and saves as well.

Their keen perception also gives them the roguish ability to notice traps with ease and disable even the magical ones.

They also study lots of lore on poisons, not only being able to handle and utilize them safely, but able to identify them with ease and even neutralize them.

That practice comes with a lot of errors and tests in the lab, and as a result, much like alchemists, they develop increasing resistance to poison, and even immunity later on.

Much like alchemist discoveries and rogue talents, investigators get their own supply of talents. These talents range from adding nasty extra effects to their studied strike (more on that in a moment), adding a limited list of alchemist discoveries or rogue talents, improving the base die of their inspiration, letting them apply inspiration for free on more types of skills, making using inspiration for combat purposes more efficient, new ways to spend inspiration to bolster themselves or others, and so on, leading to a lot of customization.

Their skill and instincts with traps Also makes them good at dodging them.

Much like rogues, investigators have their own advantage in combat, though it functions differently. By studying an opponents every move, from the way they attack to the subtle ways they give away past injuries and weaknesses, giving them bonuses on their aim and the damage they deal. However, normally such a foe immediately learns to compensate once the studied state ends, making it impossible to do again until at least a day has passed, that is, unless the investigator expends some of their inspiration to compensate for their compensation.

However, they can also end this studied state with a bang, ending the state in return for dealing a singular crippling strike against their target, the damage of which only increases with time, and can apply to both lethal and nonlethal strikes alike.

Much like alchemists, they also learn to brew their alchemical items with exceptional speed.

Finally, the most brilliant and skilled of these investigators can use their inspiration for free on all skills and ability checks. What’s more, their inspiration rolls two dice instead of one, boosting them to even greater heights whether they are applying it to skills or combat.

Of course, investigators got alternate capstones in Chronicle of Legends, with the one specific to the investigator making them even more lethal when studying a foe.

Aside from that, some become pinnacles of mental and physical fitness with Perfect Body, Flawless Mind; become the heads of organizations with The Boss; acquire a legendary weapon or piece of equipment with With This Sword; or become a death-defying legend akin to the apparent death and later resurrection of Sherlock Holmes by Doyle with Won’t Stay Dead.

The investigator class is very much a skill monkey, and arguably one of the best ones thanks to them able to add an extra dice to their rolls, often for free, not to mention being able to roll on all knowledge skills even without training. You can be anything from a rambling chatterbox that gets others to let slip information, to a sneaky investigator that seems more like a thief despite gathering evidence instead of riches, and so on, leading to so many different builds.

Additionally, their combat gimmick is fun and rewards strategic play, gaining a lesser passive buff for a while before striking at the right moment with a devastating blow, which may be at the end of your strike or whenever it would be most useful to damage the foe right now or apply a debilitating effect.

And on top of that, they have alchemical extracts as well, providing plenty of buffs with some blasting and strange other effects. Despite my misgivings about them, the base investigator can do a lot with them, though it’s no surprise that the Second Edition version of the class treats the alchemy side of the original as an optional possibility.

All in all, whether you use then as actual detectives, brilliant scholars putting their knowledge to good use, or even military tacticians or masterminds, the investigator truly is a class all about putting their intelligence to good use without having to be a caster (mostly).

That will do for today, but as we’ll see tomorrow, archetypes only improve the variety of brilliance that these investigators can command.

[the-deer-doctor]

Flask of Poison - Predisaster

TW: Violence, poisons, mention of injury/wounds

"Poison....? Are you kidding me, Subspace? Do you WANT us to be known for such cruel and vile things like brewing up nerve killing POISONS?" The pale green doctor nearly shirked out, gripping a flask of a brightly glowing pink liquid. The pink scientist, Subspace, didn't seem too phased by this thought however, a sly smirk pulling up the corners of his lips. "Meddy! My best friend Meddy! Don't you understand what I'm trying to do? I'm trying to make sure nothing can take us down! Other factions are our enemies, Meddy. And if we let even the SMALLEST sign of weakness show, they could possibly strike us down!" "Strike us down....? STRIKE US DOWN?! Subspace, look around us! We're surrounded by your stupid murder machine robots! We've got heavily armed guards patrolling basically every inch of this faction and we've got highly skilled, well-trained mercenaries at our disposal at any given moment! Do you really, REALLY believe that anyone would make attempts at us when none of them have what we do?" The pink scientist hissed softly, his scorpion tail curling up angrily as he moved towards the pale green deer, squinting darkly at him. "I really don't know why I should listen to someone who can only half see our situation, Meddy...." Medkit inhaled sharply at that comment, having to resist the urge to touch the bandages that covered one of his eyes. Dirty scientist.... "You want to ruin us, Subspace. You want us to TEST these fucking awful poisons on prisoners of our own faction! I understand they tried to go against us, but they don't deserve THIS! They don't deserve to have their entire bodies ruined for your sick twisted pleasures!" "Sick twisted pleasures?!" The scientist hissed out loudly, his entire body seeming to tremble with rage as he approached closer, causing Medkit to step back with the flask still gripped tightly in his hand. "Meddy.... Meddy!!! In this world it's KILL or be KILLED. I am going to make sure WE'RE the ones to survive if our enemies try to do anything! You're just some simple little medic... All you've ever done is BABY and PATCH UP those who've failed us! Who've forgotten that their deaths are the building blocks to our faction! That they've-!" The shatter of glass rang out through the laboratory followed by an ear-piercing shriek of pain. Subspace stumbled back, falling onto his back as a burning sensation coursed all over his body. Vile, glowing pink liquid dripped all over his face and onto one of his arms as he kicked and screamed. Medkit, in a blind panic, hurried out of the lab with a wide eye. He knew what he did, he knew he fucked up, he knew what that liquid was capable of, the properties that it had and how it could affect the demon body. But he didn't care to try and save his co-worker. He needed to escape, he needed to get out of his hellhole of a faction. Subspace's shrieks were drowned out by the beating of his own heart as ran, he could barely hear Subspace screaming out "Traitor!" and "My face! My face is burning!", but the deer doctor didn't stop. He kept running and running until he was eventually out of the Blackrock facility, disappearing into the cold stillness of the night. He knew what he did. And there was no turning back now.

[fangsandsoftgrass]

Day 19 Shared hobby./Potion.

unexpectedly got kinda burned out so sorry this is later :/

Cirwedh is stocking up on poisons for a venture, and Fenn wants to watch her process :3

"A dash of bile, a couple chunks of salamander. It's fairly simple, to be honest-" Cirwedh was interrupted by a plume of noxious yellow vapor as she dropped another bite of amphibian into the bubbling pot before her. "Done!"

From where he stood (which was a fair distance from whatever health hazard she was cooking), Fennorian watched with as little horror painted across his face as he could manage. Alchemy was always measured, always precise. But as he watched the brew boil, something akin to curiosity replaced his apprehension. Cirwedh had shown him what went into her poisons before, sure, but the process of making such things was something he could only describe as concerning.

"Deer," she looked over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of apprehension in Fennorian eyes as they met her, "Oh, don't worry, it's harmless. I just need that glass on the table over there. Could you grab it, please?" she smiled as he handed her a small crystalline jar and clasped his hands in his lap, standing a bit closer as she turned back to her work. "Thanks! I just keep this one in a container I can easily coat my arrows in," she thought for a moment before shrugging, "or anything, really. It's usually arrows, though."

Despite the alarmingly casual way in which Cirwedh formulated the poison itself, nothing could prepare him for when she plunged the jar—and the hand holding it—straight into the vat of foul yellow liquid without a second thought.

"Cirwedh!" Fennorian startled forward, reaching for her hand but freezing as she laughed. He watched as she capped the jar and placed it on the ground before turning to face him, lips twisted in a grin.

"Gotcha, did I?" beside her feet was a separate bucket of water that she dipped her hand in and shook about. When she pulled it up, he saw that all the flesh was still intact, and not even the joints had swollen. She looked utterly impish as she flexed her fingers and grinned. "I'm good, though. It doesn't even burn the soft flesh! I've spit this stuff in someone's face before, but my cheeks were fine!"

"Divines, what am I going to do with you?" he asked, bringing one hand to his chest and the other to his temple, sighing before he picked up another jar and handed it to her. "I swear you're going to be the end of me, Love. Do you at least have some kind of ladle?" He really should have known the answer to that, but some dim vestige of hope remained. Fennorian watched as she continued to repeat the action, filling another jar and sealing it with some kind of enchantment.

"It got erm- dissolved some weeks back when I was working on a new project. Sorry." Her smile said she wasn't, though, and she continued to dip jar after jar into the brew until the last drops were poured.

Fennorian shook his head in mock disappointment and moved to stand by her side, arms snaking around her waist as his chin rested atop her head. While watching her process of poison-making was almost painfully terrifying, Fenn did enjoy learning new alchemical applications for things he'd never have thought up on his own. Her knowledge of toxins was impeccable, and given the region she was from, it came as no surprise. When she moved to gather her stock, he stepped back and took a basket from the nearby counter, holding it still as she organized the collection of jars until they all fit snugly with no room to clink about. They had spent most of the night sharing the small alchemy lab tucked into the corners of Skingrad, but the sun was beginning to rise over the walls, and birds announced the dawn with a song that would no doubt have people in the streets within the hour. His free hand found hers as they began the trip back to the Inn, and a comfortable warmth spread up his arm from where their fingers were entwined; what would have been an otherwise quiet walk was now filled with the distant chatter of lab safety standards.

[palmbleeder]

with a taste of a poison paradise,

when: sunday, 7pm.

where: marina funeral home - the morgue.

who: mourad ramzi.

status: oops!

content triggers: poisoning, religious guilt & general pondering, death (in relation to) grief, needles.

Myria had always made all too fun - even more than it usually was, at times. Mourad would hear the music first, softened by the walls separating them in other rooms he's working on and know she'd started her day. Danced along to it when he couldn’t keep her company or when she didn't require assistance in the labs where she takes charge for the most part; Mourad's own work mainly having much to do with directing and presentation.

Tonight and the nights prior since, he had honored her wishes by having Britney provide ample entertainment to her unlively audience and partly himself. He never minded it, however when it came to his own work ethic regarding handling the dead, Mourad's was a little different. He preferred the silence; wishing not to disturb them in the eternal slumber they've succumbed to in ways natural or recently, obscenely unnatural. It also came with personal veering on spiritual views, particularly when it came to handling those of his own religion; a crucial reason why he'd considered an associate degree in mortuary science, he figured the places he'll be in could always use more Muslims in their staff. that included Marina.

Half-jokingly, he'd taught River how to wash him if it was his time to go — ‘I wouldn't want it to be anyone else.’ but what he meant is that it couldn’t be anyone else, as the religion that added a deeper layer to their already-profound bond prohibits anyone else. He'd also reminded himself to keep contact with others capable, in case river couldn't go through with it. It's already so much he would have to do, having to lift him into his grave, all the way back home. he'd already notified his mother that he'd like to be buried there - not France, but home. in Cairo, where her late husband and his father lay, all the way in Egypt. right where it all started; his first life, their first loss. She wasn't too comfortable and half participated in those morbid conversations he'd start casually on occasion but so long as he made his intentions clear, he figured, and cut those with a joke aimed at both his mother and river, ���Ah, and you'd also get to have me in white for once! isn't that what you've always wanted of me?’

Humming along to Toxic - banger, he'd say if he was normal - Mourad wheeled the second to last cadaver back into its locker and returned to his station with another, tirelessly preparing the body through the easier processes from inspections to wiring jaws and securing lids shut, pouring the embalming fluid into the machine (sweetly named the Cauldron) that stood waiting to roar to life. Just then, the door to the morgue chimed in. They'd hung a bell above as a joke to clock running spirits desperate for a second chance at a life and knowing he wasn't meant to be with company, Mourad peered over his shoulder thinking they'd found their first ghost friend.

Not quite, but a puzzling visit all the same, it seemed.

“I... didn’t think I’d be having a guest over or I would've tidied up, hello." Mourad laughed in his confusion, his brows drawn together, a playful glint in his eyes at his the familiar figure. “What are you doing here? you seem lost, my friend.”

He'd found himself in stranger encounters, he thought, and on a whim suggests the unwise when he piped up; rather rushed, seeing the time.

“Shit. I have to get done here. Just... you don't mind hanging back here, do you? — Yes, perfect! So long as you can stomach all of this, of course - but please careful not to touch anything.”

Almost comical, how they'd barely found a rhythm, how all has gone eerily quiet the second the Cauldron started brewing, even as Britney sang away in what seemed to be the longest song ever compared to what befell him and his living company of the night, how the sensation he'd grown accustomed with to his right is now closer behind, when Mourad felt a rather harsh stab into his neck.

"Ah... Fuck, what the.." Dumbly and slowly, he stumbled back, his hand flying to the offending spot and then everything rushed back; the context, the bodies, Myria, this cursed town. Too late when his side hits the station and he winced before instinctively grabbing at a flying hand latching onto his jaw.

"St...op, what the hell are you doing? What did you do-" confusing himself by his own interrogation in his panic, his heartbeat already racing in trampling, arrhythmic steps made worse by the adrenaline. what else are they doing, Mourad? Their grip on his jaw tightened, almost to keep him quiet but then strangely pulling his jaw apart; open, inviting to something he hadn't known until the other arm came in, holding the tube attached to the machine. No.

It took too much effort left in him to push off; a breathless struggle that he realized, a little after he'd finally managed to send them slamming into the cupboard behind and then leaving him there, that he'd been struggling that entire time. that he was no longer pulling in air into his body, that he'd been fighting a losing battle anyway.

The strangest he'd felt, like a hole sucking inwards into his chest, trapping him in, doubling him over, dragging him knees first onto the ground. His head lulls to the side and there it was, the needle in his sights. Emptied out into his neck what could only be what they'd conjured for the Cauldron. Mourad frowns, This is it, his palms lock onto his neck and he's punching out a few breaths he desperately needs when he remembered, Oh, fuck.

Ash-

Mourad tried to say it. tried to establish the line between himself and his maker, tried to get there. How could he forget?

Ash-h... Shit, shit, shit.

His hands flex as he struggled to draw out more air. His shoulders shake, mourad doesn't realize he's sobbing now. He'd imagined it all so differently; so peaceful, a slumber lowering him into the ground to wait until he's called over. A complete circle of a checkered life, that he'd made amends and made it all better - and he couldn't achieve it now, far too suffocated and overwhelmingly exhausted. An instilled fear he never realized would come to him this way, never thought he'd forget; If you can't say your Shahada, you will never find peace.

No - You have to, Mourad. this is for you and your father, for River to carry you over. His shoulders shake as he renews his resolve. C'mon, die as you lived.

Ash-hadu alla ilaha illa Allah, wa ash-hadu anna anna Muhammadan Rasulullah

Relived, Mourad slumped back and let himself fall way away, his mind swirling; his initial fear overpowered by a last sliver of joy that he did utter it. Not think it, not pray that counts in his slipping mind but that he did say it.

He did say it.

Au revoir. All is well.

Right?

[kanamori-kamper-moved]

🫂 scientistshipping

OOOO THIS IS A GOOD ONE!!!! TY FOR ASKING ANON!!!! Short, like really short for my standards, but you'll like it. It’s based on this one scene from Revolutionary Girl Utena I like, it gives them vibes.

Ask game

-

"Have you ever heard of cantarella?" Vetrix softly asks, pouring some tea into a far too fancily crafted teacup. It’s a quarter past 2, and they’re sitting in the lab. It feels almost alien now, but at least things are back to normal (at least as normal as they can be).

“Cantarella? Would you mind telling me?” He picks up the freshly brewed tea, pressing it to his lips.

“It was something used by the Borgia family in Italy a long, long time ago. I learned it while traveling.” Vetrix reaches for the plate of cookies besides Faker, taking one for himself. “A poison.”

“So, how do like the tea?” There’s silence for a few minutes, just the sounds of the record player thats been skipping the same sequence of notes for well over half an hour. “I made them myself, it’s quite hard to bake with this body now.”

“I hope they don’t taste funny.”

Silence. Still silence. Until it is broken by Faker uttering the words.

“What a coincidence. I poisoned those cookies.” He’s met by the sudden, soft embrace of him. Vetrix doesn’t expect it, but it’s far too warm and inviting to reject. “You don’t say.”

“So, what do you think?”

“Their delicious.” And he keeps chewing. “So’s the tea.”

[lesbian-roguefort]

HOLY SHIT NIKKI!!! big fan of moths and all things occult/alchemy, so she's perfect for me. heres a question to stir up conversation like potion master stirs her brews:

do you think nikki keeps her hat and cloak on while brewing her potions? and does kande (the poisoner) pitch in while brewing the death draught?

- ☄️

OKOK im finally stable enough to answer this. sorry it took me (checks smudged handwriting) four fucking days

i dont think she keeps her hat and cloak on but she definitely has them handy in case she needs to quickly head out of her lab or smthn... shes never seen in public without them on (hc that due to some past slip-ups, she believes her eyes give away her true intentions and thus her coven identity so she makes every attempt to keep them as hidden as possible) (also shes just naturally cold so she bundles up in her coat :))

and for SURE kande pitches in, the two have very closely intertwined fields of magic so they end up working together a lot (on top of being girlfriends. because well DUH.) especially on brewing killing potions. the two work together so smoothly theyve got incredible synchronicity

also additional hc since we're on the topic. the killing potion (and some others too ig...? most notably the barrier) works kinda like a minecraft splash potion where the glass is super thin so if you throw it on somebody it's gonna shatter and cause AOE damage. my hc (which is actually supported by canon now that im thinking about it) is that the killing potion is a very potent corrosive mixture that just kinda. fucking. dissolves flesh very rapidly. although i guess there could be different kinds of killing potions, maybe one that turns into a toxic gas whenever the bottle is shattered? idk :3

[kimium]

What do you hc the relationships (platonic or romantic or other) are for faculty in Twisted Wonderland?

Hi friend! Thanks for this ask! I'm so excited to answer it. Also, I'm assuming that while I am going to focus on faulty I can also add students in the platonic relationships. So, let's get started! This is super long, so it's under a cut.

Platonic relationships

Crewel & Vil

Without a doubt, Crewel was a Pomefiore member when he was in school. He was also House warden in my books. Anyways, with Crewel's love of fashion, make-up, and poisons, he's the perfect mentor for Vil. I adored their team-up in the Fairy Tale Gala and I love to imagine they're always collaborating for projects outside of school. For projects inside school Crewel assists Vil in his alchemy classes and side projects, especially poisons. Vil is easily one of Crewel's top alchemy class students and thus Vil is granted access to the lab whenever he wishes.

Crewel & Azul

While I don't think Crewel is as comfortable with Azul as he is with Vil, Crewel absolutely likes Azul. The main reason why I think this is because Azul has to brew shape-shifting potions all the time. No doubt buying them on the market is expensive and Azul being the shrewd businessman would never allow his money to go to waste. Thus, Azul has perfected the shape-shifting potion for himself, Jade, and Floyd. Crewel is a master potion maker and Azul definitely respects Crewel's knowledge. Thus, I can see Azul consistently looking for feedback in his brewing and Crewel willing to give some advice.

Crewel & Kalim

This is an odd one, but I think this for one reason: poison expert. Kalim, even with Jamil and the promise of security in NRC, has been poisoned far too many times to count. Besides bribery, I believe the Al Asim family put in a request for NRC to assist in any poison related suspicions. Now, Crewel isn't one to bend to money alone (I think he's one of the teachers who scoffed at Crowley giving into the money) but that doesn't mean Crewel believes Kalim deserves to be poisoned. Crewel easily can deduce what sorts of poisons were probably used on Kalim and that makes his blood boil. So sure, Kalim isn't his best student, but Crewel will be damned if the poor boy suffers another poisoning on his watch.

Crewel & Yuu

Yeah, this is a little self-indulgent, but hear me out: Crewel 100% has a soft side. Of course, he'd never let his students know that and for a while his blatant favourites were Vil and Azul. But Crewel takes one (1) look at this poor, magicless, isekai'd kid and decides "I'm helping this one out. They look so sad and if Crowley won't buy them proper necessities I'll do it and bill the school". Thus, he takes Yuu shopping and enjoys giving them small gifts (all at the school's expense).

Sam & Ruggie

Most would think Sam gets along with Azul, and he does to an extent. I think Sam appreciates Azul's ambition and drive for success. However, I think Sam sees himself in Ruggie: a young kid who has a dream of making money. Of course, Sam turned that desire into starting his own business from the ground up, but Sam appreciates the hustle and street-smart craftiness of Ruggie. Ruggie also helps out at the shop once in a while and Sam loves students who give him a hand. Thus he likes slipping discounts and extra bonus items for Ruggie.

Sam & Epel

I don't know why, but I think Sam took one (1) look at Epel and went "This kid needs a break somewhere because Sevens know he's about to blow up". So, Sam makes it a point to chat nicely with Epel and in turn Epel tells Sam all about Harveston and the nice handcrafts there. Sam's intrigued and believes this could open up a niche in his store.

Sam & Lilia

Look, both have mischievous energy. Plus, Lilia is one of the few students on campus who knows how to talk to Sam's friends on the other side respectfully, but also playfully.

Vargas & Jack

Jack is the top first year student in PE and Vargas LOVES this. He's over the moon and probably brags about Jack in the staff room during breaks or even during staff meetings. Jack is up for all the athletic awards and Trein has to remind Vargas that he can't give all the first year PE awards to Jack. On the flip side, Jack may feel Vargas can be a little too enthusiastic about muscles but Jack respects Vargas's coaching and advice. Especially since I head canon Vargas was an athletic star in both his days at NRC and post NRC.

Vargas & Jamil / Kalim

Another odd choice from me, but I was thinking both Jamil and Kalim are athletic. Jamil plays for the basketball team and both have extensive dance training. Plus, they're one of Vargas's top fliers in the second year. If only Kalim was a little less spacey and Jamil put in a bit more effort...

Vargas & Rook

Vargas gets along well with Rook for one reason: hunting. Both have a passion for hunting and have tons of experience. Get these two on the topic and they're talking for HOURS about the best trails, game, weapon, technique, etc. Vil once had to come collect Rook because Rook stayed behind after class for two hours chatting to Vargas.

Trein & Riddle

Not only because Riddle is Trein's top student, but because Riddle is insightful, smart, and loves questioning moments in history with Trein. Riddle's papers are always well researched and worded. It's the kind of paper Trein sees in his pile of marking and feels relief so palpable it's almost edible.

Trein & Jade

One of my odd choices again, but I think Trein likes Jade because Jade likes talking about the Coral Sea with Trein. Trein is a scholar and he loves learning about places and Jade's experience and stories are fascinating to Trein.

Trein & Yuu

Like Crewel, Trein has a soft spot for their poor, magicless, isekai'd student. Trein is the one checking in with Yuu, making sure they're doing well and that they're understanding their studies. Probably invites Yuu over to tea once in a while. Also, Lucius LOVES Yuu (not Grim) and that's an instant ticket to becoming Trein's favourite.

Crewel & Vargas

Nothing is funnier to me than the sheer dichotomy of Crewel "I'm proper, always dressed well, and look my best" next to Vargas "I think it's fun to run around and sweat while exercising and hunting + I'm a himbo". Crewel pretends he doesn't like being seen with Vargas, but to Vargas they're BFFs and he's taken it upon himself to make sure Crewel eats and sleeps properly.

Romantic Relationships

Trein/Lilia

Listen, Trein met Lilia when he was a young man, still at NRC (probably in his final year). Lilia wasn't attending (and was in his adult form), but somehow these two met. Lilia instantly took to the bright, knowledge seeking man, especially since Trein is a historian. Bet there were heated debates about history where Trein said "Source?!" and Lilia said "Because I said so!" or "Me!" or "I was THERE, Trein!" Then Trein's huffy "You can't keep saying that" ended in Lilia kissing Trein and shoving him against a wall. What can I say? Lilia loves battles, be it as the ruthless general or heated debater.

Then, Lilia leaves one day and Trein pretends it didn't happen until Lilia shows up looking "young" and is "his student" despite being CENTURIES old. Trein wants to throw a textbook directly at Lilia's laughing face.

Other Relationships

-Crewel has tried to strangle Crowley at least once during his employment. Normally, it's frowned upon to try and strangle your employer, but Crewel has a twenty-page document listing all the reasons he was justified. Crewel would probably win in court should anything legal come out of this.

-Malleus is both a blessing and a curse upon the faculty. On one hand, Malleus is very smart, gifted, and can effortlessly complete tasks. On the other hand, Malleus sometimes goes overboard and only Lilia can help clean up the mess or make Malleus do it.

-The staff have a betting pool to how many times Leona will come to class that resets every month. Crewel wins majority of the time, but that's just because Leona sleeps in the greenhouse 9/10 times and Crewel has special plants he takes care of personally, so he has insider knowledge.

-All the staff love Ortho because he's so gosh-darn cute and enthusiastic. They only wish Ortho could help Idia make it to class in person.

-Sam throws the best "unofficial staff parties" off campus when a break starts. Everyone goes and no one talks about what happens at said parties.

-Crewel laughed himself to tears when he learned of Azul's scheme in Book 3. He will deny this to anyone who asks and that person will promptly receive detention.

-Crewel is the teacher most known for handing out the worst (and most frequent) detentions. No one dares skip them because the punishment for doing so will somehow be worse than the actual detention.

-Vargas, on more than one occasion, has stepped in when some one at a bar has been a little too forward and pushy towards Crewel or Sam, who are the ones always receiving the unwanted attention. This has caused both Sam and Crewel to joke about it, making the students wonder if there isn't some sort of dating situation going on. No one clarifies.

-Trein's least favourite student is Floyd because he never wants to pay attention and do his work. Crewel's least favourite students are Ace/Deuce/Sebek because they never listen and make a mess. Vargas's least favourite student is Idia because the boy NEVER shows to class or if he does, he tries to make Ortho do the work for him.

[eli-rooks-ni]

WBW Part 2: Prologue

 Cipher stared at the screen, feeling a slight headache forming. "Sol… tell me why you support this fixer's idea." A shuffling sound came from the corner, followed by a creak of cheap plastic chairs. "She seems decent. Her goals line up with yours. Besides…" Solstice half-turned in their friend's direction. "Isn't it you who decided to form an allegiance with her?" Cipher gave their friend a wry smile. "That's true… But, again, a meeting at this-" They gestured to their surroundings. "-cramped, crumbling apartment of mine?" "Only place that's secure enough. Do you want to risk going to my former lab and get killed right on the spot?" Solstice lazily countered. "Besides, we outnumber her…" The hacker mused, tapping mindlessly at the keyboards. Solstice sighs. "Si, don't worry too much. I got your back. You do mine, too. Right?" Cipher shuts down the computer, letting the room fall into darkness, hiding their grateful smile. "…Of course."

  Maven looks up at the time-worn concrete building, almost invisible in the darkness of night. "Is this even…accommodatable?" She frowned, cautiously approaching the door to knock. A long silence followed. Just as the fixer began to doubt her intel, the door opened a fraction. The guy behind the door just… stood there. Not speaking. God, this is creepy- Maven cleared her throat. "You're Cipher?" The door opened a bit further, followed by a gruff voice. "Come in." A pause, followed by what seems to be an afterthought. "…Welcome to my apartment, Maven."

  Maven found herself sitting awkwardly at the table. Initiating a staring contest is definitely not a way to make this guy sign the contract. Which means- "Cipher. It's good to see you in person. Really, I'm impressed that you managed to gain such notoriety in this little place." The person sitting next to Cipher smirked and playfully nudged them. "Hey, Si, She's complimenting your work. Emote." The hacker lets out a weary sigh. "Nice to meet you, too, Maven. So, what are we discussing today, or do we have to exchange formalities throughout the night?" That earned another shove from their companion. "Don't worry about them. They're just anxious. I'm Solstice, by the way." The fixer nodded in enthusiasm. "The rogue scientist, eh? Cipher has told me quite a bit about your feats. I'm looking forward to working with you two." The two exchanged glances, and Cipher spoke up, voice so dry, the fixer couldn't help but flinch. "So. You're finding… Allies, to help you with this crazy plan to overthrow the System. By getting rid of the Queen. How, exactly, are you going to achieve that?"

  Maven leaned forward, acting undeterred. "It's possible. I have connections, being a fixer, and you will play a significant role in the operation. I'm thinking that we could try weakening the Queen's defenses by persuading the bluebloods to turn against her-" "With your impressive silver tongue?" Solstice said, sarcastically. The fixer halted her words, then slowly formed a grin. "Yeah. Thank you for getting my point." Cipher, who has been silent throughout the talk, huffs in amusement. "We two will be temporary allies for your schemes, then? Crack a few codes, pull down some firewalls, brew some nerve poison… What, Sol, I'm laying out the facts." The scientist rolled their eyes, gesturing for Maven to continue. "Temporary or not… it's all up to you, actually." The fixer smiled, tone genuine. "I hope we can be friends, either way."

  The air stilled, the tension too thick. Maven quickly revised her words for mistakes. Finding none, she looks up quizzically. The hacker seemed to be in deep thought, while Solstice gave back a tired smile. "Don't worry, Maven… It's just, no one has ever-" Cipher cut in, peering slightly up and meeting Maven's gaze. "Deal. Your plan definitely needs improving, but still. I accept your offer for alliance." Solstice was quick to follow, nodding in agreement. The fixer stared at the duo, all words blocked by such a sudden turn of events. "…Thank you." It was Cipher who responded, their stern exterior cracking a little as they smiled back. "Likewise."

[kanisema-blog]

Villain with a Crush!

Being the apprentice to the infamous Dr. Doom wasn't exactly a walk in the science lab. Days were filled with concocting questionable potions and nights were spent dodging death rays malfunctioning in the testing phase. It wasn't glamorous, but hey, at least it wasn't boring.

And then there was Victor Von Doom himself. Mastermind of mayhem, ruler of Latveria, and holder of a surprisingly captivating metal mask. My loyalty to the villainous cause was unquestionable, but lately, something peculiar had been stirring within me. It started with stolen glances when he wasn't looking, a flutter in my chest when he bellowed orders. My villainous dreams, once filled with world domination, were now haunted by the image of Doom, his helmet off, his face softened in a rare moment of… concentration?

One particularly chaotic evening, as a potion backfired, spewing a noxious green goo across the lab, an idea struck me. Maybe, just maybe, a villain could have a crush too. It was a revolutionary concept, a potential wrinkle in the fabric of evil-doer protocol.

The following morning, I presented Doom with a new invention – a "mood enhancement elixir." He eyed it with suspicion, his voice booming, "And what, pray tell, does this contraption do?"

"Improves overall well-being, sir," I stammered, my cheeks burning under the mask I usually relished wearing. "Increases… happiness?"

Doom looked at me skeptically, then with a shrug, downed the entire potion in one go. My heart leaped into my throat. Had I just poisoned my crush? Or worse, unleashed a supervillain with a case of the giggles?

Silence. Then, a flicker of surprise crossed Doom's masked face. "Interesting," he rumbled, his voice softer than usual. He spent the rest of the day… different. Less tyrannical, more prone to thoughtful hums and absentminded tapping of his metal gauntlet.

My heart soared. Maybe the potion wasn't poison after all! Maybe it just… loosened him up a bit? Emboldened by this unexpected development, I started leaving little "pick-me-ups" around the lab – a plate of his favorite (slightly radioactive) cookies, a robot programmed to tell cheesy jokes.

Doom, to my utter delight, seemed to notice. He'd raise a metal eyebrow at the cookies, offer a dry "amusing" to the robot's jokes. One day, I even found a single, perfect rose on my desk, the culprit suspiciously absent.

It was a game of stolen glances and secret gestures, a silent dance played out against the backdrop of world domination plans and malfunctioning inventions. I knew it couldn't last. Eventually, the potion would wear off, and Doom would return to his usual tyrannical self.

But then, one evening, he called me into his study. My stomach lurched. Was this the end of our clandestine charade?

He stood there, his back to me, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "The… mood enhancer," he began, then cleared his throat. "It seems to have a… curious side effect."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "What kind of side effect?" I squeaked.

"It appears to cause… emotional vulnerability," he said, finally turning around. He held up a piece of paper, a crudely drawn rose with a heart next to it, my signature "villain with a crush" calling card.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the tension thick in the air. Then, a low chuckle escaped Doom's lips. The sound was so unexpected, so… human, that my breath hitched.

He removed his mask, revealing a surprisingly kind face. "It seems," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "that your little potion may have had an unintended… beneficiary."

And just like that, with a single stolen glance and a shared secret, the villain with a crush found something far more unexpected – a love story brewing in the heart of a villain's lair. The world might not be ready for a love story between a mad scientist and his apprentice, but hey, who said evil couldn't have a heart? Perhaps, just perhaps, our villainous endeavors would take on a slightly… more romantic turn. And maybe, just maybe, conquering the world wouldn't be so bad if we did it together.