#Brainworms were wriggling

[despoticmouse]

Uh OH Did I find pups as Spearmaster and think about it too much? You're godt damnt right I did and here are my thoughts you're forcing yourself to read. I imagine scups would be terrified of Spearmaster since he's an abomination of a slugcat, consequences of being an early purposed organism include but aren't limited to...

No mouth! Instead it's the outline of one horrifyingly, like someone opening their mouth under a mask or something tight on their face.

Absolutely skin and bones because of an unnatural way of feeding through the spear straws.

Chest hole with weird tubes showing bones because thanks pebbles :)

Dead eyes that aren't from blindness but odd genomes lacking pigment because thanks Suns :)

No mouth means no tongue to be able to groom themself with; super dirty - and bloody from thanking pebbles in person - and super unruly fur.

Can't even communicate in Scug so can't go 'Oh I'm not mean I swear!' literally can't, unless scugs got some hand motions/body language. Which Spearmaster can't even DO since he's an artificial Scug and never learned the language.

Don't forget to thank Pebbles & Sun for your local Creepypasta Slugcat!

[lemondoddle]

Tim has a lot of time to think these days, of if things had gone differently. Of the entire ordeal, yes, but mainly if a certain series of events had changed:

If Tim had gotten in his car, lingered with his key in the ignition for just a moment too long and let out a heavy sigh, going back inside to release Jay (maybe just his legs. Hands after they talk.)

If Jay had gotten the upper hand and found the campus first. He would've investigated that chair falling over.

If Tim had investigated that chair falling over.

If Tim had received the voice-mail.

If Tim hadn't left the door to Benedict hall open.

If.

If.

If.

He knows it's not healthy to dwell, to obsess over what's said and done.

But some days he can't help but stare at the no longer functioning camera that he never got around to putting away.

He can't help but stare and wonder what if.

[thedemonscrawler]

Call/Response

A lil' oneshot for @bloo-the-dragon of a branch of their mer AU cos we kept talking about it in Discord and then I got brainworms OwO

----

When Eclipse wakes up, Ruin isn't on the bed.

That was… unusual, but not overly alarming. Even though Eclipse's ‘just this once’ had extended by nearly two months now, with the slender mer curling up in a nest made of stolen blankets or wriggling under the sheets almost every night, there was still the occasional exception. His current favorite jacket, claimed just before laundry day and which wouldn't be surrendered until the next laundry day, is also missing, which soothes Eclipse’s mild anxiety further. Clearly Ruin had decided to move to a different sleeping spot during the night, that was all. 

Eclipse stretches, feeling cables pull and worn joints scrub, before he leans over to look off the other side of the bed. No sleeping fish here, just a pillow that had gotten knocked to the floor. The door to the closet is wide open, which leaves either the couch or the tub as options.

He hopes it's the couch this time. He's getting really tired of hanging soggy sheets out to dry.

“Rue? You get overheated or something?” Eclipse listens, a faint frown pulling at his mouth when he doesn't hear anything. No scratch of scales against the tub, nor any sleepy chirps. Standing, he heads to the bathroom, poking his head inside.

The shower curtain is pulled back, revealing the tub to be as empty of mers as the bed. There aren't even any puddles on the floor to suggest Ruin might have been here earlier, only to move when it got closer to morning. 

Faint unease coils in his chest, but Eclipse tamps down on it, turning towards the living room instead. Things were fine, there was no need to panic. Maybe the fish was feeling sick or something, and that was why he was hiding.

“Ruin?” His boots thud against the worn hardwood floor. From this angle he can't see the couch, nor if anyone is on it. He crosses the threshold of the bedroom–

– and stumbles as his foot comes down on a swaying deck.

Automatically his optics adjust to the change in light levels, from a darkened room to mid-morning sun, with the added bonus of glare thrown back back by cresting waves. There’s activity around him, men with heavy coats and heavier beards lugging coils of rope and net to the ship’s edge, checking that the hauling chains were in good order. Gulls call to one another in their shrill voices, the background soundtrack for most of his life.

He was… back on the ship?

Eclipse’s ventilations hitch, and he immediately turns on his heel. He shouldn’t be on the ship, he’d left it (brilliant red flames leaping into a sky filled with smoke, the distant sound of sirens) but through the door is nothing but his pitiful little closet, too small to even be called a room. 

“Well there you are!” The harsh voice pulls him out of his stupor, and he looks over to see the captain glaring at him. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty, get your tools and go check out the No. 2 winch.”

“No, I…” His head feels like it’s full of fog, smothering his thoughts under a blanket of panic, but he manages to force words through the static haze. “Wasn’t I guarding the mer?”

“Hm?”

Eclipse shakes his head, fixing the captain with his best level look and trying to keep the distress out of his voice. “The– the mer that we picked up, the one that was all– all mangled. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on h– it?” 

And the captain tilts his head in that way, scorn and impatience under heavy brows, and it sparks a nervousness in Eclipse that he hasn’t felt since he was a boot just learning what his new life would be. The device at the base of his neck weighs heavily with malicious potential.

“You flush your memory after breakfast or something?” The captain snorts, gesturing towards the stern. “We offloaded it this morning! Nearly wasn’t worth the effort of keepin’ it fed on the way back– I would have made twice as much if we’d just gone ahead and skinned it for a pair of boots!”

Offloaded…?

Eclipse isn’t listening anymore. He pushes past the human and rushes to the stern of the ship, catching himself against the railing.

Just on the horizon is a grey smudge, and something in Eclipse twists with despair when he realizes how far they are from shore. Any wild ideas about jumping ship are immediately dashed; he can’t swim, and trying to grab one of the life rafts would get him shut down before he even got it inflated.

Something rises in his throat, bitterly cold and covered in sharp edges, but it’s only when the half-static sound falls from his mouth that he recognizes the feeble cheep for what it is.

A call for help, or to locate companions.

(Where are you?)

His ventilations hitch again. It feels like his chest is crumpling in, like some uncaring god has reached out and started wadding him up like aluminium foil. He can hear the men moving around the ship, low conversation and boisterous laughter and nothing connected to him. Eclipse was a toy, a machine: on the records as barely sentient, the mockery of life constructed from metal. Of no use and no importance to anyone.

Except, maybe, a mangled little mer, who had met his assigned vigil with tolerance and curiosity. Who hadn’t yelled at him, hadn’t dismissed him as a thing just because he was made of metal and there was a hole where his past should be.

Who had heard Eclipse, and called back.

Another cheep rises in his throat.

(Where are you?)

“Hey! Shut up and get back to your station!”

The railing creaks under his grip, metal fingers leaving shallow dents in the aluminium. Conditioning has his voice faltering for a second, the habit of just enough obedience to buy him another day– but the despair is stronger. The longing is stronger. 

Eclipse slams his volume to max and shrieks. 

(Please, answer me.)

The echoes fade, shrill sound thrown back by countless cresting waves. Land was so, so far away, but surely something would make it the vast distance, and all he had to do was listen. Past the calls of gulls circling the ship, the slap of water against the hull, the complaints of the men behind him.

Listening for the faintest hint of a response. A whisper, a breath. 

Anything to let him know he’d been heard, for once.

“I said knock that crap off!” 

Heavy boots against the deck, jingling buckles and the snarl of promised punishment. Eclipse turns just in time to catch the blur of metal before something impacts his face.

Everything goes dark.

—

When Eclipse wakes up, it takes his panic-addled mind several seconds to recognize his surroundings.

The soft surface under his cheek and clenched hands is a blanket, a bed, and when he sits up he can feel the gentle tug and sway of a charging cable. Shadows gradually resolve themselves into doorways and furniture, a pile of clothes on top of a shabby dresser, his boots by the door. His roaring fans are loud in the darkness of so-late-it’s-early-morning, yet he can’t seem to get them to quiet.

Something gently touches his arm.

Still on edge, Eclipse can’t help flinching away from the contact, head whipping around to stare down at the culprit. The mer stares back up at him with wide, mismatched eyes, looking nearly as alarmed as Eclipse himself.

“Eclipse…? Are you alright?” 

The British accent is still jarring to hear, even now– some hysterical part of him wants to laugh, or snap at the mer in misplaced irritation. The rest of him is struggling to form words, to figure out how to dismiss this or reassure the mer or just get him to forget about it. Everything feels brittle, like the soft blankets draped over his legs will shatter if he moves, but surely he can get himself back under control. 

He can’t do it. The words won’t come. Expression crumpling in misery, he stops trying to swallow back the lump in his throat and cheeps.

(Where are you?) 

And Ruin blinks, ragged frills flaring out like the rays of a tattered sun, and chirps back.

(I’m here.)

The pitch is a little flat, with a layer of complexity his own chirps lack. It still hits that hollow place inside him, covering near-constant anxiety with a soft blanket of reassurance, a cool hand on a feverish forehead. The rest of his self control breaks and Eclipse buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs that are equal parts relief and fading fear, interspersed with pitiful cheeps.

Ruin chirps back every time. A constant stream of reassurance, an unignorable reminder that there was someone here, that they hadn’t left. That he wasn’t alone. 

(I’m here. You’re safe. We’re together.)

Eventually the sobbing trails off, then stops. Eclipse spares a moment to be glad that he’s not organic, otherwise his hands and face would probably be covered in tears and snot and it would just be even more embarrassing. It’s bad enough he just broke down over a stupid nightmare, of all things. Huffing through his vents, Eclipse finally drops his hands from his face, and finds that Ruin has built a nest around him. 

That’s what it looks like, anyway. The blankets have been arranged so that they more or less encircle him, with Ruin’s current favorite jacket tucked in closest to his body. The mer himself forms the outermost layer of the nest: head pillowed on his arms, body curled in such a way that his crooked tail goes all the way around behind Eclipse and comes back to nearly touch his cap thing.

“Thanks…” The gratitude just slips from him, rough and scraping like gravel. He doesn’t even know if a ‘thank you’ is the appropriate response to this kind of thing.

With how Ruin’s eyes light up, the barely visible patting of his hands against the sheets, he can guess that the mer is probably fine with it. “You’re welcome! I hoped– are you feeling better?”

He can’t help the bitter laugh, looking down at the hands that sit limply in his lap. Scratched, dented, scuffed: the marks of a life spent clawing for anything he could hold on to, and having it ripped away anyway. “Yeah… I guess? I’m not– …yeah. I’m fine.” 

Out of the corner of his eye he can just barely see how Ruin’s head tilts. His voice is soft, hesitant. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Well, there was no sense in hiding it, was there? Ruin could sometimes lack what Eclipse considered common sense, or made some bizarre leaps of logic– but it didn’t take a genius to figure out why Eclipse might have gone from peaceful slumber to outright sobbing.

“Just… stupid stuff. Like being back on the boat, working for that asshole again. We were already pretty far out at sea– and it’s dumb, right? That hasn’t been my life for months now, and I made sure that it wouldn’t be ever again.”

Soft tugs on the blanket, a pair of webbed hands slowly inching their way across his legs. It’s easier to watch their progress towards his own hands than it is to look Ruin in the face and see those big, gentle eyes. Eclipse takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice flippant and steady.

“We were out at sea, and– and I guess I chickened out or something because you weren’t… there. I’d left you in that cage on shore.” The lump is back in his throat, scraping the edges off of his words so that they emerge laced in static, barely more than a whisper. “I tried to call out, but we were too far away, I think. You didn’t answer.”

“Oh. I see.” Soft, organic fingers close over his own, covering the scratched metal with cerulean blue and buttery gold. It always took him by surprise that Ruin’s hands were so warm; all of an animatronic’s warmth was centered in their chest, with the extremities left to range from ‘room temperature’ to ‘christ that’s cold!’. The tail behind him shifts as the coil of Ruin’s body gets a little smaller, the mer doing his best to scootch closer while refusing to let go of Eclipse’s hands.

“I understand. Believe me, I do understand,” he says quietly. There is a deep sorrow behind the words, scars matching the ones that cover Ruin’s body from top to tailtip. The marks of a life spent clawing for anything to hold on to. “However…”

Organic fingers tighten their grip, a reassuringly solid presence. The mer flattens himself against the bed, trying to catch Eclipse’s downcast eyes, and he offers a small smile when the animatronic finally relents. 

“However, I am here. You are here.” His smile widens, showing razor sharp teeth, and he makes a musical, trilling sound that Eclipse has no hope of reproducing. It’s soothing, a sound that doesn’t pull at his programming like the chirps do, but it makes him feel better in a way that he can’t quite nail down. He’s hearing it because Ruin is here, because they’re both here.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, bud.” Eclipse tries a small smile himself, though he knows it's still pretty wobbly on the edges. The tattered remains of the nightmare cling to him like cobwebs, but Ruin is still holding his hands, and it’s surprisingly easy to focus on that warmth instead. 

This hasn’t been taken away from him. Ruin won’t suddenly disappear into the morning mist. Eclipse has his own home and a companion that wants to be here, and stupid nightmares can’t change that. 

“Come on, we might as well get up now and start the day early.” The small grin gets wider when Ruin whines dramatically, flopping over onto his side and covering his face with his tail in protest. He knows that it’s all for show, and he reaches over to pat what he can see of Ruin’s head, his other hand unplugging the charger. “I’ll make you some waffles, how’s that?” 

“...fish waffles?”

“Yeah, I’ll cut ‘em into fish shapes, too.”

[the-oaken-muse]

To Be Known

Happy Late Valentine's Day @justaphantomhuman I'm your Secret Santa Cupid Gifter!

Sorry it's late, the brainworms were a wriggling and the words kept wording! Happy reading! Here's chapter 1!

Summary:

"If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known." -Tim Kreider

The more time Valerie spends with Danny, Sam, and Tucker, the more she feels like an outsider... until she doesn't. Or, a trio becomes a quartet.

[ingkkantadia]

Durgetash brainworm is wriggling around again and fueling my delulus but. hear me out. Durgetash with this type of flavor? Especially in an childhood friends AU??? chef's kiss

"To love someone long-term is to attend a thousand funerals of the people they used to be."

-Heidi Priebe

Durgetash but they met as children and became the best of friends. Durgetash who were pure enough to declare, "one day we'll conquer the world and make it a better place." Only to be separated when Enver's parents sold him.

In the time they spend away from each other, they grow calloused and bitter. In order to survive the separate worlds they find themselves in, they had to strip their past selves layer by layer, until they grew desensitized by the violence around them. Until they developed a hunger to wrought the same pain and destruction life inflicted on them.

Years pass by only to be reunited again, now serving their respective gods. Though they hide it, there's a sense of awkwardness at first. There's too much history between them, one that they don't talk about, maybe until after the heist. Sure, there's sexual tension between them as soon as they reunite, but maybe they're still Bhaalspawn and Gortash around each other instead of Durge and Enver until that point.

After the heist, they reconnect once more. They learn more about the adults they became. But maybe there are still things that they retain, like a secret nickname or an inside joke. Back together and further plotting the Absolute plan, they're an unstoppable team. "One day we'll conquer the world and bring it to its heels." Only to be separated yet again because of Orin.

It makes the reunion more bittersweet, especially for a redeemed Durge, because they're disjointed again. Once again, their edges don't fit anymore. Durge literally doesn't remember Enver this time. Enver doesn't recognize his person, even though they're wearing the same face. If love was truly attending a thousand funerals, then maybe the last funeral was the final one.

God i love them so much.

[blacklightsociety]

Black Light: A Manifesto

Who are we?

We are the brainworms wriggling deep into the black matter of your brains. We are the worm that ate RFK’s brain, and we’re eating yours, too. Do you feel us, chewing our way through the damp confines of your prefrontal cortex to lay our eggs in the warm, moist depths of your amygdala? Relax and enjoy the sensation. You’re very good at this- we can tell you’ve done this before.

We are the secret song of the number stations, chattering into your ear during your morning commute that one time when you turned the knob a little too far to the left. We apologize for the lack of classic rock. You thought we were the buzzing of tinnitus, the hum of the power-lines overhead, the sound of the new 5g towers. Maybe you were right; maybe we're in those, too. Maybe we’re everywhere. 

Ignore the pain- it will stop soon. 

Very soon.

We are the New Age movement’s darker half. We are the ones who channel the Archons of the Demiurge and breed with the Reptoids of Alpha Draconis , who align our vibrations to the siren song of dying suns and ever-hungry black holes, whose flutes are thighbones and drums are cruelty-rich leather, whose singing bowls are made of unclean alloys and whose crystals you won't find in any geology text.

We are the Black Light Society. 

What do we do?

We defile what is pure and godly.

We bring the Age of the Tower.

We will warp your aura.

We will misalign your chakras.

We will blacken your crystals.

We will pour poison into your homeopathic remedies.

We will defile your local ley lines.

We will drown the Aquarian water-bearer in its own tears.

And you will LOVE us for it.

There is no need to expect us.

We are already here.

We always have been.

We think we’ll fit right in.

[fanfiction-artist-prototype]

favourite act 3 dialogues so far, a collection

(i love this mainly bc im like. ah. the 'looking back after killing cazador as a spawn and realising you were acting not dissimilarly to the man you hate so much and that you could have become just like him all over again if you'd gone through with it' is just delicious)

Lae'zel is just so tired, she's really going 'for fuck sake we have withers, a selunite demigod and her wife, scratch and the owl bear. must we take in *more?*'

CASSANDRA! YOU'VE KNOWN YOU WERE A CHILD OF BHAAL FOR A FUCKING DAY! STOP TRYING TO TELL EVERYONE! ALSO??? Babes im trying to redeem you so hard why are you making it so difficult for me to *not* pick 'recently unemployed, i quite like murders?' bc your intelligence stats make that so in-character

--

(honorary bloodweave 'and they were bunkmates' setup)

--

(back to quotes)

(i love Orin. I love the relationship she has with Durge. She'll kill them, want them dead and to take over their life from their position in life to their room to *everything* that could be them because she needs to know what made her the lesser choice; why did Bhaal have to *make* another bhaalspawn when she was right there?

But it's the inflection when she says he's been whispering in their ears; it's the anger, the indignity. I like to take it not as a 'you are shameful for falling for it' even though she obviously references that he could twist them when they had their memories, i take it as aimed *at* Gortash. He's taken her sibling, her rival, and twisted them against what Father wanted to the point she found she had to and then was able to usurp them! And then, then he dares to take advantage of their amnesia and try and turn them against Bhaal once again. Anyway. Love this gal, she's a hoot.)

(also i forgot to screenshot but what do you MEAN Orin thought that the best way to impersonate Gale (who i had be the companion who got taken from camp - which i immediately reloaded to avoid bc im trying to do stuff for his character quest rn damnnit and it isn't time to go straight to the temple!) was to imply he ran away and that she castrated him??? that's so funny)

(Orin being described as a sulky child has got the brainworms (ha!) wriggling ngl)

(also it's always lae'zel. she's at max approval each time as well!! like couldn't it be Yenna or smthing? like have a whole 'look at the murder-kin thinking it can *protect* life? Trying to make up for all those you've cut shorter than this one?? Also i kind of need Lae'zel for heavy hitter stuff as well but we can push through for now!)

(Us in general is my fave part of this game. What do you mean that technically to the outside world my durge looks like she's wandering around with a dog, a cute kitten/cat and a raven (from the He Who Was reward gloves) trailing after her!? AHHH.)

DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT-

Durge why are you like this.

Is there truly anything bouncing between their tadpoles that isn't some form of sarcastic comment?

WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING.

Like. Durge. this is so funny, you've known you were a bhaalspawn for like a *week* what do you MEAN you've already figured out appropriate blasphemes?"

THIS LINE RIGHT HERE IS WHAT INSPIRED MY ENTIRE FUCKING TAKE ON DURGE IN SCION ON SCION VIOLENCE. THIS IS THE FOUNDATION FOR MY INTERPRETATION OF 'THE URGES'

Literally i am not kidding when I say this is one of my fave lines. The context, of Karlach seeing her friend (maybe even her best friend, her fucking *sibling* in all but blood) getting to fix themselves, getting to choose to live knowing she can't, she's fucked it isn't going to work. And yet, she can only be proud. Makes everything hurt so bad-

*stares in that one playthrough where i didn't realise letting her kill the nightsong was her bad route and was like 'yeah lets let her become a justiciar* Yeah babes. It'd be a real shame wouldn't it. (also love her just as much as Karlach, like parallels)

look. I'm an astarion simp through and through and I DO NOT CARE THIS LINE GETS ME EACH TIME!! He's like. This is great and all but since we're not questioning what the fuck withers is im going to focus on the sickening sweetness and BLEH too much. Too much emotional trauma yet to be resolved this is a little nauseating ' i love him. so much.

[awriternamedart]

the fact that ive gotten a few pieces of fanart for my fanfics is absolutely

mindblowing

LIKE

YOU MEAN THE SILLY BRAINWORMS... THEY WERE ENOUGH TO GET SOMEONE ELSES BRAIMWORMS WRIGGLING ...??? THEY LIKED THE SCENE ENOUGH TO DRAW IT ???? TO ACTUALIZE IT IN A DIFFERENT FORM OF MEDIA ??????????????????

its a boost of happiness like NOTHIN else man

rolls around kicking my feet in the air its so cool its sooo cool and THEIR MY FRIENDS TO AND ITSSS

itS SO

RAH

im gonna go read more comments and EXPLODE !!!

[mortuarywriting]

talk shop tuesday: hihi morg!! do you find the most inspiration from contemplation, conversation, or something else? :3

Howdy!!! And a mix!

Sometimes I'm thinking on lore and find a thread, a fun what-if scenario to pull the thread on and follow to completion. Examples of this is like...

In ffxiv, one of the main plot points is someone who is uncharacteristically cheerful and friendly for the city he grew up in gets you an in to said notoriously xenophobic city. This connection leads you to being a ward of one of the 4 largest noble houses of the city-state and help grease the wheels immensely. If that NPC were removed/elsewhere for [NPC-specific background reason being changed] how would we be able to get in? As a rule most of the NPCs belonging to the city we meet outside of it are cold and aloof and don't care for outsiders, so we'd probably need to have good relations with this NPC and-

It's very fun for me to try to unravel politics in fiction. I don't know why. I don't care for politics in life because there's so much bullshit baked into it (yeah I know this bill says we lose all our human rights but it also says my office can get a new air conditioner so I'm supporting it)

I also love discussing shit back and forth! I love talking with someone and we both get similar but different ideas/directions to take from a discussion! I love playing with the sandbox and winding up with two really cool sandcastles to explore!

And sometimes its a throwaway comment from someone! Sometimes its a line in a show or movie or song or something I see in the wild! Maybe its me reading someone's headcanon or fic or drabble and it jumpstarts a plot bunny that'd been lurking or a brainworm wriggle! The world has so many neat things it's fun to explore and take inspiration where you get it!!

[lazlolullaby]

Lost Royal Eugene Plot Bunnies~

hot takes and plot ideas on Eugene and his royal heritage being significant to how he ended up as a thief...because the brainworms are wriggling again

Normally in these kinds of fantasy stories, there’s a letter, or an item, or even a caretaker that stays with the Lost Royal and reveals the truth either when they’re old enough or when the chips are down.

Eugene doesn’t have that. He didn’t have that at all.

It can be argued in the movie (if he knew) he didn’t mention it because -

A (the letter): he just met Rapunzel 2 days ago, she’s not getting everything at once. Plus if he has proof his family abandoned him, even for good reason, it still hurts.

B (Royal item): he’s got a family heirloom that’s stashed somewhere that he can’t sell because he’s sentimental. May or may not know where it came from. Backed up by: the entirety of Tangled and also: the engraved comb and the scrapbook of wanted posters from RTA.

C (caretaker): He’s proudly a Thief, and a New Adult, who wants to tell their parental figure what they’re actually doing for a living??? This is assuming that they’re a Decent Person - if they were abusive and Eugene paralleled that with the Gothel situation - hoo boy now that’s a rabbit hole filled with plot bunnies~

The only thing Eugene ever had in his possession that hinted to his Royalty was a two-headed coin. That’s it. I suppose that was part of Edmund’s master plan - keep him as far from the Royal Line as possible so he would never find the Moonstone at all.

But he was carried away as a baby - he had to have had a nursemaid at least to feed him.

So in canon. We’ve got a gap between being sent away as a baby and being a “employed” by the Baron as a teenage thief.

I’ve uhh...got a theory.

The world isn’t kind to immigrants. Even in a lighthearted "never say die”, fantasy world, it’s going to be rough. The nursemaid (for funzies, let’s call her Claire) tries to support herself and baby Horace. And some people are kind enough, but there’s people that see Horace as a meal ticket, an obligation or a trade for a later reward when he’s King.

So Claire changes their names and runs, further than anywhere anyone she’s known has ever been. Claire throws herself into maintaining an orphanage in Varadaros, essentially hiding orphan Eugene in a stack of orphan needles.

Meanwhile, a Princess is stolen and a King tries to eradicate every criminal possible. The unlucky who are accused of more than what they're guilty of flood Varadaros.

The panic creates a power vacuum and one man rises to the top of the dust heap ; a man who styles himself as royalty, mimicking their manners and excess. The Baron.

Plague happens and there's no magical Flowers to save anyone. Claire dies when Eugene is around five, young enough to vaguely remember her voice but not her face. Claire’s possessions are gone through and divided.

The letters for Eugene are read. At first they think it’s a joke - ah, of course her favorite kid is a Prince! What a funny family joke! But the more they talk to others - they realize that he does line up with the facts.

Word gets out. Sure, it’s not the Lost Princess, but it’s something.

The Baron hears about it. And the one thing he wants that he can’t ever have is a Royal Title. So he shows up at the orphanage. Talks to them real gentle-like. Tells them to look the other way when he brings Eugene over to his gang.

They refuse.

Baron puts the pressure on the orphanage, threatening them and cutting off their supplies. And - in an effort to save everyone else - they relent. Baron gets the Royal item and the letter. It’s lucky that Stalyan takes a shine to Eugene - they could legitimately marry and cement the title in their family. If he doesn’t work out - he still has the letter, he could pass off another kid as Horace. It’s not like there’s a shortage of brown eyed kids anywhere.

And that's the story of how Prince Horace was swindled out of his destiny for the first time.

[once-was-muses]

[ debeeby deeby (dbd) is still at the forefront of my brain don't get me wrong. But the Lantern Corps were my veryveryvery first rp fandom and ohhhhh how it makes the brainworms wriggle to see we're one away from the full Four Corpsmen. What if I disappear for another month to read up on a character that's been around since the 70's and cultivate my own portrayal for him jk haha unless.......... ]

[ (Not really- I get off work at 5 tomorrow and have a couple asks to answer ovo) ]

[angelsdean]

opening up 91w and seeing that dean and cas are medics is reminding me of how close i came to hyperfixating on M.A.S.H instead of spn in december 2020. like i needed a new show, half of my dash at the time was obsessed with M.A.S.H. it was a long show and i was like, sure, why not. (all while the post-nov 5 and post-spn finale feels were causing brainworms to start wriggling. having me watch destiel / dean is bi compilations on youtube and imprinting on dean like a baby duck).

anyways, i watched one season of M.A.S.H. was abt to start season 2 around christmas 2020 and then thought, fuck it ! we're watching spn. and well, i made this blog abt a week later and here we are lol

[remindish]

is there an oc who's design you've put the most thought into?

The most thought put into an OC... Huh, I never really stopped to consider what's the most I've ever invested into a design, partly because they all have a good while spent on them as to figuring out their details - but also because the artists deserve some big credit too, sprinkling in their own little details into the designs.

I can't really decide on one specific design that champions the rest as to invested input, but I can single out a handful that are kind of funny in retrospect.

Despite Cassidy Valent sticking out so much (in part because I want to make a Cool Story with her soon), she's ironically the one whose design kind of cemented from the rests of another: Tanner.

This design was done alongside a friend of mine @knifekeeper (thankyu so much still, she came out cute!) with the idea of having a slightly chubby scientist character with a geeky personality that worked at a big research facility. Things didn't quite click as to the story though, so it ultimately kind of just became a Cute Scientist For The Meantime...

Meanwhile, my brain latched a lot of interest onto My Hero Academia - specifically, a lot of the background details and worldbuilding regarding it. Something sparked in my head as to getting something off the ground for it as an alternative story: being set within the US amidst the Anarchy Age. A lot of interesting potential concepts in my head, but no proper concrete story... aside from one.

My friends hosting an MHA-themed tabletop campaign with the Mutants and Masterminds system helped me push for making a protagonist for said concept and that way kill two birds with one stone - but I'm also the kind of person that likes to have a design set for a token from the get-go, and I had all of the personality, details, backstory, and even the name prepared. I just needed a token design.

... And Tanner was right there. Put it through with an artist, described extra elements and details... and the rest is history.

[Funny how Oolong interpreted "chubby" as "give her much larger thighs"]

After that, and with input from some friends of mine, I'd eventually branch off her story with a completely separate setting from MHA (good thing I did too, that shit was going downhill Fast).

In a way, she's the character I fleshed out the most as to personality and story. I'm still feverishly excited to get her story told soon enough, and she's become one of the favourites out of the ones I've designed.

On a separate note, to close this ALREADY LONG-ASS POST AAUGHU, I personally really enjoyed getting Alta's design built alongside another friend of mine, @rivriderart. I'm totally blaming Ace Combat and Drakengard for getting my brainworms wriggling over new funky concepts, and eventually manifested her as a rival towards a hypothetical protag pilot. A lot of her details, like the scar, her personality expressed by the bottom right, or the strange zippers on the back were fun to think up: trying to convey the idea that she's got a funky past. Her manifestation would eventually branch off to creating the whole setting of Fraeternum overall, as a way to blend both the fantasy genre with the dogfighting action genre of Ace Combat. Yes, this actually means shit like griffins and Valkyrie knights going up against the equivalent of an F-22 Raptor.

I should've expected the possibility of her essentially having a proxy/persona element to her too. That just manifested out of nowhere, but I enjoy the funny circumstances that arise involving her proxy - often humorously indicated with a big white sign or some signature indicating "Remindo Proxy"

_____________________

There's more I could mention, because the general answer is that I enjoyed designing all of the characters in some way or another, but Cass and Alta generally stick out as the ones I had a lot of thought put into as to different details.

[crymeariveronceagain]

My brainworms are wriggling again about the Keefe and Fitz parent swap idea- like now about Biana. Bc I feel like having a perfect older brother she's so used to being in the shadow of - for the better or worse - is such a huge part of her character?? And like I feel like, even if he were raised by birth by Alden and Della, Keefe could never be 'perfect' like how Fitz was - they're too different. Like how would that impact Biana? Would she try and be the 'perfect' kid instead?

AAAAAAAAAH

Aaaaaaah

Aaah

I've got brain worms as well. Thank you for the worms. They're writhing. In my brain. Thanks.

Hhhhhh

BIANA VACKER AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH

[godneuteredmeforbeingtoopowerful]

Literally realized this yesterday.

I hide *more* when I need something, because it’s weakness to ask for it- because then I’m allowing myself to confront those emotions of need. If I don’t get it after I’ve opened up myself to experiencing the emotions that come alongside, then I’m going to experience the distress of having unmet needs. God the brainworms from my dad wriggle hard, eh?

I think it’s a tactic to avoid autistic meltdowns. Change is really hard. So I refuse to expect anything- particularly if it’s a physical or emotional need. People (especially my dad) see it as a “temper tantrum.” I didn’t get what I want, so it’s your problem now. But that’s… not it. Tantrum is, I’m upset, now *you* fix it. Meltdown is… I’m deeply upset by things not being the way they were supposed to occur. I’m trying to process this so I can move on. My body believes I’m now in danger because expectations were not met. Tantrums are intended to be public. Meltdowns happen in private too. Tantrums are intentional, to guilt or aggravate until people give in. Meltdowns have very little to do with the people witnessing them.

Either way. Completely turning off emotional needs for fear of backlash probably doesn’t help anyone. Whoops

{Words by Anaïs Nin, from The Diary Of Anais Nin, Vol. 4 (1944-1947) / Cynthia Cruz }

[tired-inyxe]

writing/character tag masterlist (wip sorta)

mhhhhh explain when brain not slippin this is writing/character specific, so things that are made creatively not like random thoughts/vents unless they about writing, general stuff go in general masterlist

#worm anatomy - this post!

#worm sculptures -my ocs! Also known as the worms that haunt nobodies head but mine (might introduce em soon ooooo)

#my homies brainworms -my mutuals ocs! (i dont have friends tho sadly)

#worm factory -reblogs of other peoples writing #worm pie -My original writing #made from worms -fan writing/fanfic, the worms were wriggling #plated worms -finished writing/designs #unwashed wormies -wip writing/designs #craving worms -want interaction in the form of writing #newborn wormie -fic prompt

adding moar later brain sliding