#brainworms were SO MAD

[crossbackpoke-check]

yOu'Re gOiNg fOr a LiTeR? | "Habs react to Quebec Maple facts", 10.22.24

[phierie]

only ghosts left

[seithr]

powerful sorcerer with magical storm blood who can still magic and rend minds and transform people btw

[prettyboykatsuki]

alpha nagi not understanding whats so great about ruts and why anyone would care about them until he experiences his first one around beta reader.

ANON I S2G I WAS HAVING CRAZY BRAINWORMS ABT THIS YESTERDAY???

great minds think alike i suppose but beta reader and alpha nagi just make so much sense…. but specifically this scenario…. ough i do think nagi gets more whiny during his ruts than traditional aggressive but he’s still like typical alpha forceful. he’s so red and flush the whole time and his pupils are so dilated

you have to be sober and take care of him but he Needs To Be Inside Of You and won’t let you off of him for like days on end. you go to the kitchen and make him food and he’ll fuck you very desperately while you’re bent over the counter. doesn’t pull out when you sleep. you go shower and he corners and fucks you there too. u were tricked into thinking he’d be way lazier but alas the ruts get to him

like he’s both well behaved and not at all ?? because he’s just unimaginably needy but he’s still just doing what he wants somewhat drunken and apologetic. he’s so spoiled. he won’t bite your nape and isn’t at risk of that but he will like. lick it over and over and nuzzle it i think. in general i hc betas having faint scents and i think nagi still gets really into yours even tho u keep saying you’re not an omega

he gets upset when you say that trying to deter him from scent marking you. like you reek of him for weeks after HANDNGJSB. his ruts are genuinely the worst ahsjndj he has both pre-rut and post-rut neediness like nothing else. his dick is sore but whatever home he’s been fucking is worse off by a mile like you are sore sore. bc even if he’s not fucking you he’s sitting you on his face without and breaks and jacking off hard

it’s hard for him bc i think his ruts were mostly managed by suppressants and were not all that bad before dating even without. like a short three days. for an alpha too his scent is pretty mild so it’s rare people can tell even if he has do stuff during. but dating already changes his sex drive so completely

his ruts are just an extension of that. and nagi is a pretty shameless bastard but even he gets embarrassed when the fog clears. hulking 6’3 man cuddling into your shoulder with a single sorry after he finally pulls out HASNFJWH and u can’t even be mad bc he seems genuinely apologetic. if it’s the first rut it feels kinda ego boosting to hear that you’re pretty much the sole cause of this change 💀💀

i said he is spoiled but i do think he stops taking suppressants after that, bc he’d need them stronger to manage. he switches to contraception and lets his ruts happens cause it feels good even if it makes him crazy.

[stanpinesdykewife]

hii! could I request stan/gender neutral reader fluff? maybe something along the lines of what mornings look like together? the direction you take it is absolutely up to you, thanks again YOU’RE AMAZINGGG <3

i got carried away can u tell stan's my favorite. I'M CRAZY!!! i'm crazy. also THANK YOU so much your request is amazing it gave me brainworms!!!!!! under the cut:

mornings together stan/reader (gender-neutral) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified fluff, 825 words

“Stan,” you say, nudging his shoulder. He grumbles in his sleep, rolling away from you so you're facing his back. You laugh openly, leaning further over the bed to nudge him again. Your other hand is adjusting your work pants, tugging it up and trying unsuccessfully to do your belt buckle. “Stan, wake up. You're giving me a ride to work, remember?”

“No gas,” he mumbles, pulling his arm away from you. When you poke him again, he raises a hand to wave you away. “Quit it.”

“Stanley.” Your belt is left undone as you shove him with both hands, and finally he rolls over to shoot you a glare. You just grin at him, and his face softens, just a little bit. “You're giving me a ride to work.”

“What genius came up with that idea?” he mutters, but props himself up onto his elbows with a groan. Stan rubs his eyes, some crust clinging to his lashes. His hair is all mussed up and his tank is crooked, one arm hole digging into his armpit and the other coming dangerously close to flashing a nipple. There's some dried drool on his face, from the corner of his mouth to the side of his jaw, and when he stretches his arms over his head, a series of concerning pops and cracks emit from his spine. One thing's for sure: if this were a cartoon, you'd have heart eyes.

“You did, you dork,” you say, the affection painfully clear in your voice. Stan picks the crust out of the corner of his eye and then looks at you, his brows furrowed still. He isn't glaring at you anymore—just needs his glasses. Before you can turn to look for them, he grunts and beckons you closer.

“C'mere. Gimme a kiss,” he grumbles, and you plant both hands on the bed to kiss Stan's cheek. A smile threatens his lips, but he keeps up the grumpy old man act: “What are you, Puritan?”

“I'm not kissing you until you brush your teeth,” you say matter-of-factly. Then, just to make fun, “I dunno where your mouth has been.” Stan quickly switches gears.

“You know where my mouth has been,” he says, the sleaze, and you laugh as a flush crawls up your face. Stan beams at you then, a charming, sleepy grin that makes you giddy. “Say I drive you to work. What's in it for me?”

“Here we go,” you say, rolling your eyes. Your smile cancels out any sass. “You've been awake for less than a minute and you're already hitting on me. You're a real perv, you know that?”

“Oh yeah, baby, love it when you talk dirty,” Stan says, and suddenly tugs at your wrist so you topple over. You faceplant right into his chest, and before you can react, Stan wraps his arms around you and heaves you onto him with little effort. You're laughing the whole way, eventually managing to shove your foot between the mattress and bedframe so you can push yourself up.

“Stan!” you protest, even as you grin into his shirt. Stan manhandles you so you're right on top of him, like a lizard on a log, and he holds you tight to his body with brawny arms.

“Alright. Back to bed. Goodnight,” he says promptly, tucking your head under his chin. He manages to fake one long, loud snore before you start squirming away from him. It's an impossible feat. His grip barely loosens. “Hey, what gives?”

“You're wrinkling my work shirt,” you say, and then squeal when Stan rucks up the back of your shirt like he's going to pull it off.

“Why do you need a shirt, anyway?” he snickers, and you manage to reach behind you to slap his hand away. Stan laughs and finally lets go of you. “Alright, alright!” You push yourself up, hovering over his face. You try to look mad, but you're still smiling.

“Stop fooling around,” you scold him lightly. You know for a fact Stan won't take you seriously, so your heart isn't in it. Still, you bargain, “If I give you a kiss, will you get up?”

“A trade, huh?” Stan doesn't even pretend to think. He tilts his head up at you, smug. “I'll take it.”

“Yeah, you will.” You close your eyes and lean down slightly. When you peek, Stan's closed his eyes, too, readying himself for a kiss. You shift your weight and smack his face lightly, very lightly, then roll straight out of bed and stand up. When Stan sputters, blinking his eyes open to look at you, you laugh in his face. “I'll kiss you when you brush your teeth! You really thought th—Oh, nope, you're getting up now, okay, meet you in the bathroom!”

You dash away, your undone belt buckle slapping against your thigh, your pants falling from your hips a few inches. Stan’s loud laughter follows you down the hall.

[yandere-daze]

As you may have noticed, I started getting into Resident Evil and the Leon brainworms are strong. I am so down bad for this man so it was inevitable that I would have to write something for him soon.

So here you go, enjoy!

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, over-protectiveness, delusional mindset, mentions of violence and guns ( because it´s resident evil), staring, delusional mindset

Please do tell me if there is anything else you would like to have tagged!

General Yandere! RE2 Leon Kennedy headcanons

I believe that rather than an authority figure or someone working with the government, Yandere! RE2 Leon would fall in love and grow obsessed with a civilian

He first sees you in Racoon City, an innocent bystander running away with a zombie following behind very closely. You were scared to death and Leon immediately decided to jump into action, not at all hesitating drawing his gun and shooting the zombie until it dropped to the ground and stopped moving

It has always been in his nature to protect other people and so naturally, he just had to help you out.

But there was also a different reason why he had decided to help you. Truthfully, Leon had just been overwhelmed with relief to see another living human being amidst this hell he had been thrown into. All this time he had feared that he might be truly alone in this, but now there´s someone else. Someone that can keep him company in these dire times. Someone he can talk to. Someone he can protect and keep safe

Of course you´re very happy to see Leon after he had basically just saved your life and so, after you´ve both introduced yourself to each other, you agree to tag along with Leon when he offers to take you with him

I mean why wouldn´t you? Going with him would greatly increase your chances of surviving this entire ordeal and not being completely alone just lifts a huge weight off your shoulders

You´re honestly just glad that Leon lets you go with him, it´s not like you´re really of use to him, so you would have understood if he decided that it was too much to deal with

And yet, when he looks at you with a small smile and promises you that he´ll keep you safe no matter what, you have a feeling that you can trust him to keep his promise

And he definitely does! Whenever a zombie appears, Leon tells you to get behind him while he wastes no time shooting them.

He has to admit though, the way you fearfully hide behind him and stick close to him makes him feel a little strange. Why does it feel so good for you to go to him for protection? Why does he like knowing that he´s the one making sure you´re unharmed, the one taking care of you?

Why does he not want to let go when he protectively wraps an arm around your waist?

Yes, the more time passes, the more Leon starts to fall for you. Going through such a traumatic event with someone else by your side probably speeds up the process too.

You´re both the only partner the other one has. And so, Leon starts to get attached to you. The way he feels about you slowly shifts from someone he met under unfortunate circumstances to someone he met because it was meant to be this way. Fate had brought the two of you together.

Why else would you two be the only living people in this place? There was simply no other explanation.

And he had certainly taken notice of the way his heart speeds up when you smile at him every time you thank him for taking care of you.

He wants to take care of you forever. He wants to show you that he could. Better than anyone else.

And so, Leon gets more and more protective, determined to make sure you both get out of this alive so you can start planning your future with each other.

Because of this, he doesn´t like it when you stray too far away from him. Just having you leave him for around a minute makes him want to make a mad dash to go after you, immensely worried that something might happen to you while he´s not there to protect you.

He´s pacing around the room and biting his fingernails when you tell him you just want to check out a room you saw down the hallway real quick. It doesn´t matter that he already killed all the zombies roaming these halls on your way here, what if there´s another one? What if you´re all alone in that dark room and suddenly the door slams closed and a zombie tumbles out of a locker? What if he wouldn´t be able to get to you quickly enough? What if you died because he wasn´t there?

These thoughts keep eating at him and so Leon practically insists on going everywhere with you, he starts getting really clingy all of a sudden, not letting you walk even two steps without him trailing closely behind.

You might have gotten mad about someone acting that way usually but you can´t really bring yourself to blame him, considering the situation you were in.

Still, you found it kind of creepy how his eyes never seemed to leave your form. Whenever you would turn your head to look at Leon, you would catch him already staring at you intensely.

He´d have the shame to blush and apologize for staring at you but he never really stops doing it either. He just can´t help it, you´re so enchanting he has to always have his eyes on you! It´s like he´s drawn to you.

Um, he always has to make sure you´re safe, is what he meant to say there actually! There´s no other motive behind his staring!

But yes, Yandere! RE2 Leon is like a lovesick little puppy that trails after you and practically begs for your praise.

There´s always this creepily bright smile on his face whenever you thank him for doing something for you. It´s like he´s living off of your praises. And he is, truthfully. There´s nothing better to him than hearing your praise, it makes all this work worth it.

It just feels so good to hear you compliment him so sometimes he makes a show out of killing zombies, trying to look as cool as possible in front of you in an attempt to charm you. He wants you to think he´s cool and reliable. He wants you to think that he´s a good partner. That he could be the perfect boyfriend for you.

Because he´s sure that there´s no one out there that cares about you as much as he does. He would do absolutely anything for you. You could use him as much as you like and he would do it all with a smile on his face.

He just wants to show you how much he adores you, how much he loves you! That you two are meant to be together! He´s too shy to say it to you outright but he knows you must also feel the same way about him. You must! Because you´re soulmates and now that he finally met you, Leon is not willing to let go of you again.

It´s unlikely he would ever lock you up or kidnap you but he desperately wants to be a part of your life.

So please just say you love him back! Tell him you´ll never let him go and Leon will worship you every single day for the rest of his life.

[partycatty]

professor!kenshi takahashi > again

you just can't seem to do professor takahashi's reading assignments.

warnings: smut kinda? idk ur freaky and so is he

notes: hi guys im sorry i havent been posting, brain went numb after i lost a 2k kung lao fic because god hates me. enjoy a new brainworm!

@crimsonbubble come get yo juice

[ masterlist ]

• professor takahashi was a major asshole, every student on campus whispers about his attitude and ridiculously complicated assignments, particularly his reading assignments. they were long, tiresome, and often so complex in word choice you swear your eyes are crossing. unfortunately, you needed this credit to get the hell out of that school.

• he was presumably indifferent about you, wandering the aisles of the desks with a never-changing scowl. he was pretentious, always clean in a suit. his hair was neatly done and his back was obnoxiously straight. you tried to be mad, but you respected his devotion to his career.

• when he'd assign one of those readings, nine times out of ten you chose to skip it. they were only worth five points, it felt criminal to waste that effort when you could be enjoying college life. what's a few points here and there? it's not like you were studying for a phd like your physics professor, dr. carlton.

• midterms were approaching, grades were set to be due within the week and it seemed to be all crashing down on you. the readings and journals following them were costing you about seventy points that could easily bump your grade up a letter... if he let you submit them this last second.

• knocking on his office door, you hear an immediate groan and shuffling. his dress shoes clacked against the floor before he opened up. his height was alarming at such close proximity and you found yourself dizzy under his scrutinizing glare. the glasses on the bridge of his nose jump as he scrunches.

• "it's after office hours," he states, eyes shooting to a clock on the wall behind you. "3-7. it's on the syllabus."

• "i—i know, but—" for the first time, you found yourself stuttering in front of him. "i didn't have the t-time to do the assignments and i was hoping you could take them before the end of the week...? i'm sorry, i know this is sudden—" his large hand raises itself, putting a spell on you to stop talking just as quickly as you started.

• "you're missing fourteen of them," his voice is low and cold. how did he already know how many you were missing without checking? it takes a long time before he sighs and steps to the side, eyes inspecting your every move. "we... could probably knock a couple off if you need the help." ...we?

• swallowing, you step into the small office. you never really noticed a distinct smell on him, but the faintest cologne and his natural musk fogging up the room made you suppress a whimper of surprise. he squeezes past you to get to his desk, and you try to ignore the brush of his touch against your waist as he subtly moves you to the side. you feel trapped in this room, backing into a corner and fidgeting with the dead skin by your fingernails.

• he shuffles papers around on his desk, retrieving the printed copies of what you're missing and slapping them on the desk. you jump, trying to back even further into the corner you had buried yourself in.

• "don't look so afraid," somehow his harsh tone offers a smidge of comfort. "it's not rocket science." he beckons you over with two fingers and your insides curl.

• the passage is long and aggravatingly complicated just from a glance, the backside of the page being a few short answer questions. professor takahashi stands close behind you, forced into closeness from how much his desk was positioned against a wall. you hear him try to stifle his breathing but each small gust on the back of your ear made reading all the more impossible.

• your eyes skin the page, lips trembling as you mouth the words on the paper. just as focus overtakes you on the final paragraph, your professor's sultry voice grumbles in your ear.

• "what did the curtains symbolize?" he gruffly asks, tapping a finger on the first question. you stutter over your words, in a blind haze you couldn't even recall the mere mention of curtains in the writing. you swallow thickly, trying to pull an answer from your ass in typical student panic.

• "concealing true thoughts?" you wince, ready for his disapproving tone to burn your ear. instead, the tense air is cracked through when professor takahashi slams his hand palm-down onto the desk, making you whimper in surprise.

• "again," he groans, already frustrated with your ignorance. "and get it right this time."

• how were you able to focus like this? it was cruel. it was sick, and you wouldn't be able to tell that kenshi agreed with your panicked thoughts from his stone cold expression. he was just thankful you had just enough wiggle room to not be pressed against his aching boner through his slacks.

• you swallow thickly, eyes fluttering over the passage again in a haze. this was too much, you should have just failed instead of participate in whatever this was. "the barrier between private and public manners?"

• kenshi groans again, head dropping in frustration and nearly putting his head on your shoulder. you tense up, his hot body feeling like too much and he's not even touching you. something about a big, authoritative man telling you what to do was getting you going... damn you and your late night assignment recovery plan.

• professor takahashi raises his head again, rolling his shoulders as he tries to keep himself together. his eyes glance downward, and he looks down his nose at the sight of you rubbing your thighs together ever so slightly to relieve the tension. a chuckle is pulled from deep in his throat, amused by your small figure and just how caged you were in this situation. he had all the positioning to... no, he shouldn't think that way.

• something ugly and disgustingly horny tugs at him anyway and pulls a swift movement. professor takahashi swings his thick leg between yours, parting your thighs and forcing you to stand with your legs further apart, pulling all satisfaction from you the moment it started. the smoothness of it all sends your heart into overdrive as you try to make sense of his motion.

• you're too afraid to turn back and look at him, to ask what he's doing. you can't, it's too much to ask of you. your legs are weak and knees are buckling, so you attempt to subtly rest your weight onto his desk with your elbows, unintentionally(?) bending over his desk.

• you feel his body loom over yours, and he manages to position his leg just right to press flush against your ass. his torso bends down, just barely above yours, just barely pinning you to the wood.

• "innocence," he answers the assignment question lowly, his brow twitching desperately. "purity... shame."

• his words tug at your core. "oh."

• kenshi wonders if he should pull away, if this was too much, if you'd run away the moment his grip loosened... but you show no ounce of disagreement to the predicament. if anything, the shake in your body and the emanating heat from your cunt through your bottoms told him you needed this... maybe even more than you needed this grade.

• testing the waters further, his fingers dip into the sides of your waistband, tugging the fabric away from your hips curiously. if now was your time to decline his advance, you certainly wouldn't have taken it. involuntarily, your ass presses against his thigh in anticipation, a motion that makes him jolt in surprise. no words are being exchanged, yet your heat was telling him all that he needed to know.

• "question two," he mutters, eyes transfixed on your back. "in the main character's dialogue during the theater scene, who was he speaking to?"

• this question came to you easy even if your mind was escaping you. your voice is weak, barely there enough to answer. "the audience."

• "which one?" his growl makes you yelp as he tugs on your waistband, pulling you impossibly closer. your clothed pussy was just barely able to rub against his thigh.

• a hot breath escapes your lips, why he's torturing you like this is beyond you. "the—the real audience. us." a reward was given as kenshi pulls your bottoms to the floor, letting them pool at your ankles to give him a display of how soaked you got through your panties. he takes a sharp intake of breath, unable to stop his hand from dragging along the fabric or diving in straight away... no. you wanted this, you had to earn it.

• his lack of response but delight in touching you was confusing. your head drops in embarrassment, hiding the heat creeping up your face. "was... that right?" professor takahashi only replies with a hum, tilting his head to inspect your arousal further.

• he dives right into the next question, just as hungry as you were without admitting it. "what was the meaning behind the title?"

• you part your lips to pathetically guess, forgetting the passage had a title to begin with. your eyes are glassy, the words nearly impossible to distinguish. you want to cry by now, needing both a grade and something, anything to relieve what he's not providing you with. all you can sputter out in a shameful "i don't know."

• "yes you do," he really hopes so as he pulls your panties to the side, fully exposing yourself to him. he prays to god you know the answer, then he'd be able to take what he wants, fuck you into how he desires. he considered himself a pervert, a sick and twisted individual that shouldn't have the job he does. but seeing the way you ache and writhe for him assures he's right where he belongs. "think."

• you can't, you honest to god can't. your mind and body are fully disconnected, unable to access any cohesive part of your thoughts that would either tear yourself away, push yourself in deeper, or just completely shatter. his voice was pulling you apart, and in hindsight, maybe it always has. maybe he was just so alluring during his lectures you found it hard to focus on the work in front of you.

• a belt buckle clinks behind you, a sound that makes you clench onto nothing. kenshi frees himself, one hand squeezing the base of his cock and the other one pressing your back down, bending your body into a 90 degree angle. a mortifying wet slapping sound shocks your body as he taps his shaft against your cunt, your juices sticking and stringing in connecting threads each time he pulls away. your mind runs wild, wondering just how big he is, if his face is flushed or cold as always, but even still you dare not turn around.

• "again," he instructs with a huff, breath escaping him as he tries to regain his own composure. you're tearing him apart just as much as he is to you. "read it — hhh — again." the hand on your back trails to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and guiding your sight back to the passage. through fluttering lashes, you manage to get a clear image of the text, racking your brain for an academic response when all you can focus on is his tight grip and heat from his cock.

• "s'a reference," you sputter out, hoarsely. "to the... irony."

• "of?" you can hear the smirk as he notches his tip into your entrance.

• "the... character's... fuck—" you pound a fist onto the desk, back arching and attempting to fruitlessly bounce back onto him, something he wouldn't permit just yet. "the main character's thoughts and inhibitions..." you try to crank out an answer as you clench your eyes shut, chasing your potential reward. "how good of a man he claims to be when he's just as evil as the villain." you speak so fast you're afraid professor takahashi misheard you, or was displeased with your tone. his silence is deafening and you feel tears prick at your eyes.

• you whine at his silence, but before you could cry his name out in frustration, his hand curls around your head and slaps against your mouth, pressing firmly to stop any noise from escaping.

• you feel like a wet, silenced, needy dog with the way he handles you, demanding and controlling the situation in a cruel and torturous manner. it makes you sick, he makes you sick. it's a terrible awful desire to want to be stuffed full of a professor, one you paid to teach you, and all he's teaching you is how to behave like a toy.

• as you near the verge of fighting back, a firm knock echoes on your professor's office door. a feminine voice pours through, authoritative and with obnoxious intent.

• "mr. takahashi," the calls through the door. "the board wanted your approval for the next steps we discussed in last week's meeting. is now a bad time?"

• his cock still pushing against your entrance, he clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, standing straight. "not at all," he replies nonchalantly, feigning innocence behind a thin wooden door. "one moment, if you could."

• she approves and you hear her lack of footsteps — she's right outside of the door. in one swift moment, kenshi discards the assignment, hoists your bottoms back into place nearly making you jump in the process, and cramming his dick back into his pants. you want to cry, whimper for any sort of guidance, internally laughing at yourself for suddenly needing his attention and help instead of being the aloof student you typically were.

• professor takahashi nods his head toward his desk, and you understand immediately — crouching down and tucking your legs against your chest, you bury yourself underneath his office desk and hold your breathing, trying to calm your racing heart... tonight has been a lot for it.

• he clacks toward the office door, swinging it open. you can only catch the faint noises and changes in lighting as they move about the office. kenshi's sure to circle back to his desk and sit down, giving his coworker no opportunity to join his side of the room.

• your breath is held tight as they talk about office jargon, words you're too afraid to hone in on in case you get spotted. you try to focus on the faint stripe pattern of his slacks, the tapping of his foot as he intently listens to the muddy words.

• "i must admit, tonight's a busy one for me," he bluntly admits to the woman, shifting his hips in his seat. "i've got a lot to catch up on, a lot of grades to fix. if you don't mind, it would be best for the both of us to put a pin in this and come back tomorrow morning." a polite smile graces his stern features, one you can yet again hear in his tone. your heart flutters at the thought of being alone with him again.

• "i'm at a crossroads here," the woman sweats, nervously chuckling. "we were hoping to do a late follow-up meeting after your approvals... as soon as our conversation is done. they're all waiting in the board room."

• professor takahashi audibly groans, leaning back in his seat. you take the brief moment of adequate lighting to smirk at the sight; his cock was still raging and angry from denial, pushing hard against his slacks. he was dying inside.

• "if we must do it tonight," he draws out his tone, standing abruptly. "alright."

• your stomach drops at the thought, cunt aching and drooling for more after getting only a taste. you wouldn't be able to sleep, eat, function until you're able to be split in half by his dick. fuck the assignments, there's something else you want to chase now.

• and you wish you could chase, frowning as you see them both leave the room, kenshi stock-still as always just as you peer over the wood to ensure you're free to escape. tonight was a disappointment all around, and not even five minutes on your walk back to your dorm your phone pings, a new email sitting in your inbox.

just now - ktakahashi@school.edu

subject: office hours

thank you for reaching out for after-class help. my office is open anytime if you need anything from me. i'll be expecting you tomorrow to start.

[aveloka-draws]

"I'd love to read more" well if you say so! So... Narinder. The iconic catboy. Following along with the theme of loving a god being the equivalent of entering a toxic relationship that is EXACTLY what Narinder has done. Praising and encouraging the lamb for their actions in killing the other bishops. Getting them to open up about all these personal details while simultaneously never revealing anything about himself (shit man SHAMURA is the one to tell the Lamb that his name even is Narinder!) The worst part is that it is at least partially genuine. There IS something there as with the other bishops and their relationships, but they are gods and such can only respond as gods always do. By drinking in all the devotion, and only giving something back when they want to. Things are healing now, but it'll never be the same as it was. Now Narinder finds himself stuck in a situation where he is noticing the slow and steady creep of "godhood" in the lamb, and is trying to keep Lamb grounded to their mortality. Now he's the one in the position of giving devotion, and its important that his quest succeeds, because he knows no matter the outcome he's not getting off the wild ride. Shamura, my fella, where do I begin with you. They have been a god for the longest. The oldest, and we don't even know how much even older they are than Kallamar. The only thing we know for certain about Shamura's age is that they have been alive since the glory age of gods. They have been divinity for unfathomably long, and were the closest to what it should mean. However, they have been upheld as god for so long I think its fundamentally warped every single relationship Shamura has. Does this make them evil? No, but it makes it hard to treat anyone outside of their family as an equal. Even after becoming mortal, just from what I've seen, they STILL are on a pedestal. The other bishops remember the big and wise older sibling. The LAMB, the only actual god left, is begging THEM for help. So Shamura will help alright, by telling the Lamb all about the warped ways they believe a god should perceive the world. I think Shamura needs, whether platonically or romantically (I don't know your headcanon for their orientation), for someone to get mad at them. Saying what is true but saying it in a cold/cruel way is very "i'm a god and can say what I want without consequence" behavior. Someone needs to shove this nerd into a chair and give a passionate "I don't know how to explain that you should care about other people" speech. Anyways that is all. I must let my brainworms rest for now.

Biting this biting this thank you for the food jshsjsh thank you brainworms

Narinder starting to feel the consecuences of his actions fr by being on the other side of things huhu hopefully he'll do ok

Also the pts about Shamura uogh that spider is so interesting to think about either as a god or mortal, spider with secrets and dementia

Been thinking about getting Shamura a friend for some future scenes maybe

Still in progress, being rotated in a microwave as we speak

[demongirlgarlicbread]

I think my favorite angle of oil fire is the anxiety. I feel like as an autistic woman in her 30s Sanae has experienced a Lot of "are they mad at me" brainworms. And of course Tsukasa going into it is very self-assured and self confident. At least that's what she tells herself. But I'm looking at the conceit of "this stupid fox feels emotionally secure for the first time in her stupid life" and I can't help but think "oh that's coming along with so many feelings of inadequacy and imposter syndrome isn't it."

Thinking about Tsukasa coming around to this idea that she could be something other than a genius puppeteer and instead could be a person and. Feeling incredibly afraid. Like so damn afraid. Feeling like this relationship is fragile, that it would break if she was Found Out. Given her everything I can't help but feel that Tsukasa is on some level afraid of being found out. Seen. Known. That if someone were to look at her and cut past everything they would leave her behind.

And I'm spinning the idea of like. You know the classic trope of saying too much in anger. And self loathing is laid out in the open. Who knows how it got there. And Sanae sees her and doesn't just. Keep loving her but she understands it all. Sanae the autistic woman in her 30s who's introduced in WaHH as this queen bee. Snubbing Reimu. Going full defcon one social combat. Like you know this girl went through hell and back when she was in high school and shit if that's the mask she built for herself.

Maybe it's just personal biases but. I think the dynamic of "I'm a piece of shit actually" running up against "I've been there too, you're not, and I love you." is something special. anyways oil fire is great.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Hello again! I've got another Harlequin brainworm to present to you. This one has a bit of a setup. I hope that's okay:

A mysterious signal was blinking away on the W.A.C.K.Y watch. At a loss for what to do, and currently neck-deep in another project, Caine opts to send Pomni out to investigate. Surprisingly, she accepts.

The signal leads Pomni to a dilapidated house, and inside she finds a lone person fiddling with a radio. Their skin looked… uncannily real, and blood was dripping from a wound on their forehead.

Red blood.

There was no doubt about it. She was looking at a living, breathing human, one who's eyes were pleading for help. Pomni knew that they weren't a threat in the slightest.

…she also knew the role that humans played in the present state of things. The world was a hellhole. Her directive invaded her thoughts at every waking moment. She, and all of puppetkind, were built to suffer.

They did this. THEY DID THIS. THEY DID THIS.

A storm was raging in Pomni's mind. She had a choice to make…

FINALITY

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT

AU credit: @iamespecter @tadc-harlequin-au

A/N: in accordance to established lore...there is only one way this can end

WARNING: swearing, angst, death

~~~

"That's all you've got for me?" Pomni leaned against the door frame to Caine's office, arms crossed.

Caine entered information into Bubble as he spoke. "Afraid so. I don't have the coordinates for the next boss yet, nor have I received any readings for nearby charms. Best I can do is this radio signal."

"Does it say anything?"

"No." Caine closed the hatch to Bubble's controls. "It's all garbled mess, but it's been consistent for the last three days. Someone is trying to establish contact. This could be a rescue mission."

"Or it could be nothing." Pomni shrugged indifferently.

"Then I'm sure you'll find a lonesome rat to kill." Caine rolled his eyes. "If it's legitimate, there's a puppet out there enlightened enough to know how to use a radio that could use our help. We can't not check it out. It'll get you out of the house so you can dance those ants out of your pants, and you out of my teeth for a while. I've submitted the coordinates of the last known radio signal into Bubble. He can take you there." He shooed Bubble towards Pomni.

"Fine. It's better than being stuck in this dusty old house anyway." Pomni walked down the hall to the stairs, Bubble puttering along behind her.

Caine sighed heavily and fell into his desk chair. "Be safe. See you when you get back." He said to no one as he pulled out a bottle to drown the pulsing stress headache.

~

Pomni walked with Bubble to the very outskirts of the ancient City of Circuits. Before reaching the wasteland that separated the cities from one another, Bubble led Pomni to a row of dilapidated townhouses. The area was dead silent, say for the whispering dusty wind

"In there." Bubble looked to one house in particular. "Welp. My job is done. I'll wait for you here."

Pomni unsheathed her sword and cautiously approached the house. Her hunter senses felt no eyes. She saw no traps. She heard no voices. Carefully, she opened the broken front door.

The dark, broken house creaked as Pomni snuck inside. Sunlight poured in through the cracks in the walls. Crumbled remains of a forgotten world littered the floor. Pomni slinked her way through the house, ears perking when she heard shuffling and static coming from the back room.

Pomni pressed her ear to the door. A muffled voice. A puppet. She wasted no time. She threw open the door, sword at the ready.

The figure crouched over the radio skittered away in fear, shoving themselves under a low table. They were covered by a tattered cloak, a skeletal face peaking out from the hood.

"Alright, who are you? If you're smart enough to use a radio, you're smart enough to talk." Pomni pointed her sword at the cowering figure, prepared to kill at the first sign of madness.

The figure's realistic eyes looked Pomni over quickly. "Es-tu réel?"

"...what?" Pomni lowered her sword an inch.

"Tu as presque l'air humain..." The figure inched out from under the table on their knees. Hands up.

Pomni got a better look at the person's face. It was fleshy, if stretched thinly over their skull. Their hands were just as boney. Their eyes were sunken. Their skin was scarred and aged by the sun. Their hair was matted and molded. A single fresh wound marred their cheek, dried blood caked a scraggled beard. "You...you're human."

"S'il te plaît, ne me tue pas." The lone man pleaded as he squeezed his hands together. "Je meurs de faim. Aide-moi!"

Pomni kept her sword aimed at the crying man. "This is impossible. No humans survived the war. The famines! The plagues! The marionettes! How are you here!?"

"SHHHH! Pas si fort, s'il te plaît! Les monstres de métal nous entendront!" The man cowered and looked around frantically.

"What the fuck are you saying!?"

"SHHHH! s'il te plâit!!" The man hissed, his eyes as big as saucers.

"You shouldn't be here." Pomni lowered her tone, but not her sword. She glared at the man coldly. "Humanity is dead. You should be dead."

"Dead?" He repeated in a thick French accent. "Pas mort. En train de mourir...J'avais espéré qu'il y en avait d'autres."

"What a waste of my time." Pomni sneered. "You already have one foot in the grave, but the looks of you. You're not worth the time it would take for me to wipe your blood off my sword." She spat and turned her back on the sniveling human. "Enjoy what's left of your existence."

"Attendez! S'il te plaît! Ne le faites pas-"

Pomni made all of two steps towards the door when the wall to her right exploded. Brick and mortar showered her as the first of a pulverizer punched its way through. The weak wall collapsed, taking half the second floor with it. The room caved in. Pomni managed to get out of the way of the falling debris, eyes locked on the large gorilla-like marionette.

"Bubble! Why the fuck didn't you warn me!?" Pomni screeched angrily into her com. She dodged the pulverizer's charge by sliding under it.

"Warn you? About what?" Bubbles voice crackled casually over the com.

"THE PULVERIZER, YOU ILL-OBSERVANT MORON!" She jumped over its swinging fist and stabbed its elbow joint.

"I didn't see any pulverizer, but I did find some pretty nice cutlery a few houses down."

"WHY ARE YOU A FEW HOUSES DOWN!?" Pomni kicked out the support of another fragile building, toppling it on the pulverizer.

"I got bored." Bubbled hummed.

"I WAS INSIDE FOR A MINUTE!" She slashed at the pulverizer's gut as it raised its fists for a pound attack.

"Which is about ten times as long as it usually takes for you to kill something. I figured you were talking to whomever you found inside, so I busied myself."

Pomni plunged her sword into the marionette's face as it doubled over from the damage to its abdomen. She ripped out her sword and stabbed it again and again. Her warcry to release her pent up need to hunt echoed down the empty street.

The marionette collapsed to the ground as it lost the ability to function. As a precautionary measure, she tore open it's chest and destroyed it's power source. "There...motherfucker." She shook concrete dust from her hair.

Pomni surveyed the damage. Two downed townhouses. Amazing it didn't domino affect the entire neighborhood. Amongst the rubble, a single, broken human hand protruded, unmoving.

Pomni wiped the marionette oil from her sword. "Never let it be said puppets destroyed humanity. Their greed brought their end. Through slavery of the soul, they thought they ruled the world. Now they all rot beneath it."

~

Pomni ran into Caine as she made her way upstairs to change. He was swaying lightly, holding out a bottle to her. "Heeeey, Pomni. How'd it go?"

"It was nothing. False signal." She said stoically and accepted the bottle, taking a large swig.

"Oh...maybe my watch needs some adjusting...but you must've found something to beat up. You look like you took a dust bath." He giggled.

"Pulverizer. Easy shit. You got more?" She nodded to the bottle.

"You know I do. What are we drinking to?"

"The end of tyranny."

"Cheers to that." Caine picked up another bottle and clinked it against the one he gave Pomni.

~~~

A/N: I apologize if the French wasn't accurate, I used Google

[gingermintpepper]

🌧️☔️

Oh man okay, sure!

🌧 - "Something angsty from your wip"

Featuring a snippet from one of my very many "Hyacinth's awakening" attempts:

His name is Hyacinthus Amyclus of Amyclae and once, he was a prince. He had been an auspicious prince, chosen by the gods themselves. Man of the People, they’d called him, the Sun Shepherd. He remembers because the sister in his mind wears braided laurels on her arm. Women weren’t to wear laurels. Not like the ones he’d had. He remembers the him who’d laughed at such a declaration, the shock in the eyes of the man who’d dared to question the habits of his prince and princess. If it were against divine law for a woman to wear her brother’s laurels then let the lord of the laurel come down from the heavens and tear them from her himself.  Yes, he’d laughed then. Had stood his ground, had protected his sister’s limited freedoms.  Maybe that’s why he’s here now. Alone. In the dark. With nothing but fading memories for company. He’d tested the gods one too many times and now he was condemned to hell.  “It’s not like you to be so self-pitying, Hyacinthus.” The memory of warm hands cling to him. Bright fingers which cup the edge of his jaw, a softer smile than that of his brother, a closer touch than that of his sister’s. It slips from his jaw down to his neck. Pinches the side of his throat. Right, of course. How could he regret questioning the gods when they were so damn annoying? A laugh like honey seeps into his ear, the scent of laurel and reed. “That’s better.”  This too is punishment. For which crime, Hyacinth can’t quite remember, but he was certain this was divine providence. Maybe his pride, for daring to possess a god. Maybe his hubris for believing he would be an exception to the fates.  “Now, that’s not entirely fair, my dear.” And him, with his aureate hair like the rays of the sun and his darkly shining eyes as rich and gold as the honeycomb. He, who lingers above Hyacinthus’ prone body even now, picking at his corpse and leaving marks on his death-pale skin, he was the cruellest punishment of them all. A teasing laugh like wind over the rolling hills, cold kisses that do not fill the aching emptiness carved and bleeding in Hyacinthus’ chest. He is the only thing that is more ghost than memory. His madness given golden form and domain over him, the only man he had ever bared his throat to over and over and over again.  “Is this not an eternity as I promised? Here, with me?”  Hyacinthus feels his cold hands on his throat, mere whispers of the heat his body recalls in that foggy once-upon-a-time of his memories. Fine hairs flower petal soft spill onto his forehead, must be making a blood stain of gold on the ground around him. There is no air for him to breathe, no muscle for him to tense and yet he is flush with bitterness anew. “I do not know where I am. Or how much time has passed. Or when next I will see my family.”  The impression of his palm is smaller than the one in Hyacinthus’ memory. Maybe, like his sister, this phantom too will break down and fade away. Maybe that is why he can no longer feel the overwhelmingness of his heat. “Those things lay deep in the domain of the dead. I cannot grant them to you.”  How many times have they had this exchange? How many more times would they say these things to each other?  “Then let me die. Pay my fee and let me die.”  Over and over again.

And ☔ - "Talk about/give a synopsis for a fic you'll probably never write"

Admittedly, there are a lot of those just because I have so many brainworms all the time but one of the concepts I've recently accepted will just remain a warm memory to go back to when I'm feeling down is a 5+1 fic with Ares and Artemis discovering, raising and releasing the Stymphalian Birds! I'm really interested in Ares and Artemis' entanglements and the many things attributed to them both and the Stymphalian Birds have always been cool (to me) due to their nature + their habitat as swamp dwellers! The idea of Ares having found (or created!!) these little demon chickies and panicking because they ate something they weren't supposed to so he panics and brings them down to Artemis who looks at him and his jar of chirping baby birds then metaphorically slams the door in his face gives me immense joy. Ares, of course, bugs her until she agrees to help him keep them fed which leads to Artemis teaching how to hunt, Ares teaching her a thing or two about Olympian politics and a very big brood of birds between them both! Very cute, but it'll probably remain in the drafts.

[thewisaaaaad]

Sudddenly the brainworms returned, mentioning that I had not mentioned a character that was a little bit, kinda maybe EXTREMELY critical to the plot.

and that character is the lambs body! :D

yeah when your forced into inhabiting a completely desecrated body after hanging out with the god who respects peoples deaths the most, the lamb gets VERY concerned about this bit of information. after, y'know, getting the adrenaline and fear that he has never felt before under control.

the answer ends up being far more readily available than he thought. Remember how I said some lambs ended up rescuing him? yeah that was the lambs family, specifically their older brother and sister.

Why was this lamb, known to their family as lambert, taken away by cultists? because they did not respond to orders to bow to shamura, and the disciple that was there sensed no devotion coming from them at all.

the truth of the matter was, a fact that was made abundently clear to shamura as soon as they lay their eyes on the heritic, was that this lamb hand only the faintest flicker of a soul. they were essentially a husk- perfect for what shamura needed. With this vessel, they aimed to capture the spector that plauged their brother, or if he was truly mad, create an immortal lamb that could NEVER enter the relm of the dead, thus depriving narinder of any vessel of retribution.

the lambs, meanwhile, just grieved the loss of the child. they had put so much love and care into them, in spite of their intellectual unavailability. They never spoke or emoted, but they did good work, and the family loved them as they would any other.

if shamura hadn't interfered with fate, maybe the child would have lived to be the last. Maybe they would have been there for their family, laughing and crying with all their siblings. But by the same token, maybe they would have lived to be the last, instead.

they wouldn't have known narinder.

[absolutedestinyapocalypsse]

i think we're all in agreement that larian fumbled wyll's storyline but what i cannot drop after finishing my playthrough is how fucking strange his relationship to the flaming fists is???

like if you take him to kill the fists at the foundry he disapproves? these are the people who are actively torturing and enslaving the gondians to make massive police brutality robots. you can literally go to the foundry and WITNESS the steel watchers brutalizing children via tadpole but in the final battle ravengard's "help" is a bunch of fists whose job it was to protect the steel watchers? Literally all the flaming fists do is get in your way, try to arrest you for stopping murders, and run away from danger and Wyll is just endlessly supportive of it- he doesn't see why that's fucked up!

I get that they're his dad's guard and his inability to criticize his father for anything could have (should have) been a plot point, but instead it's just there! uncritically!! And i can kind of get it when it has to do with him being exiled bc parent child relationships are complicated, but there is literally no reason for him to be dickriding the flaming fists so much. Absolutely zero reason.

They set Wyll up as being this unfailingly moral character who would gladly become a devil before killing an innocent person, even when killing that innocent person is in the "rules" he's supposed to follow. He's not just uncritically obedient of Mizora even though she tells him that what he's doing is right, but when it comes to the flaming fists who are purposefully incompetant at best, and actively murderous at worst, and whom we have watched the entire game actively enable slavery and state violence he just doesn't care????

These are the flaming fists who were completely fine sending Florick to the gallows for trying to fight against their corruption and save ravengard. Devella is the ONLY person in the fists who's doing anything to address the bhaal killings and her colleagues actively get in her way/try to stop her from investigating them. If I were Wyll and I learned that my dad was fucking brainwormed bc the guard that was supposedly "unfailingly loyal" to him sold him out and actively stopped a rescue attempt, i would never want to see another fucking flaming fist in my life.

But instead at the epilogue party if he's the blade of avernus hes just like "my dad pardoned all the fists and made them pinky promise to do better :) isnt he great?" Be for real!

It's making me mad bc it's not the hypocrisy itself that's the problem, it's that they don't even attempt to say or do anything about it! It's a golden opportunity for Wyll to have to do some self reflection and grow as a character, like every other character who also has clear moments of hypocrisy like this. It's right there! And the game just totally chickens out. Like I know that not every country has the same relationship to police that Americans do, but it's literally IN THE GAME that the flaming fists are a corrupt organization who operate exactly like the american cops do. Larian please give Wyll a backbone to begin with, or make him reckon with the fact that he doesn't have one. Do fucking SOMETHING!!

[washisart]

im having ginhelios brainworms at the moment and was wondering about your thoughts/headcanons on their relationship from ginkga’s perspective? stuff abt how he started developing feelings for helios and what he thinks of him and whatever else you’d like to ramble about :]

Helios is basically Gingka's rebellious phase but without going emo (it likes vanilla but rebellious, teenager things)

Though my yapping is a bit long but bare with me here. Mostly just headcanons and fill in the void in this ship that sorta stuffs.

Okay imagine this: post-Fusion and early-Master Gingka Hagane trying to swipe his emotions about his father's existence in his life under the rug with the bey battles and his new found fame as that poster boy. But now he learned a better way to hide it and make his positivity more believable: A new tactic to ignore the elephant in the room. After his father is alive, how could he stay mad? Yet deep down, he found himself outrageous for wishing his father stayed as a memory.

I think to Gingka, Helios is really special in a way. He sparks something in him-A desire to get to know someone more in such a short time. From someone who causes harm to his friends to someone he would literally do the extreme for a chance of survive.

When he found out Helios's supposed grandfather lied to him, he immediately see the similarities. They were driven by a bestowed responsibility. Gingka took to heart of his "mission"- defeating L Drago and Helios with restoring his civilization. And he saw how Helios retaliate to the lie. It sparks something, alongside hope in him. They have many thing in common! Helios's compassion is what solidified it. He said "I don't want anyone else experience the pain of our ancestors" and that's when he fell. His consciousness immediate trusting in Helios, even almost willing to let himself fall so his new found ally can live and save the world.

After destroying the meteor and on their way home, they spent time talking to together. The realization of how alone they were prompted them to open up to one another about their life, their desires and fears. Helios brought up the idea of him paying for what HE did yet Gingka told him he would defend him no matter what, even asking his father for help. Just so he can keep Helios free to slowly process everything a bit longer. That shaken Helios up a bit.

Thing happened, they bonded and started dating almost immediately after getting off the ship. It wasn't clear who confessed first, but it's clear that Gingka scope Helios away while he was kept under strict- surveillance for a week or two because of his grandfather's crime. This some what annoyed and amused Ryosei alot, seeing his boy talked back and disobeyed the adult, even him for his "friend"s sake.

You can see it in his eyes whenever Gingka looks at Helios. It marvels at the sun boy with affection. He wants Helios to spend his short free time get to know the "Earth" with his gang. But even Gingka didn't realize that he hogs up the guy's attention most of the time. They just slips and got lost in the crowd together, getting themselves a date at a near by fast food restaurant, walking along the shoreline and sharing tales. Gingka is sweep like a wind and Helios follows just right behind him, almost content to let himself be dragged everywhere on their little date.

It was a two weeks short they were together before Gingka continue the international tournament and Helios went his separate way to regain that sense of normality, yet they keep in touch with each other through video calls every weeks. There is that break up later up but I'm saving it for another post.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Please infodump about the JayTimSteph Grotesquerie AU WIP if possible.

OF COURSE i've been thinking about it since i saw the trailer and now it's a little brainworm. (disclaimer i've not watched the first two episodes yet, this is like. solely on the vibes of the trailer. some details might change once i. watch the show depending on if i follow it or just go with the vibes the trailer gave me. which also means there will be no spoilers for the show if you care about that.)

the current idea involves Detective!Tim, Nun!Steph, and Priest!Jason. the vague idea for the plot so far is that a serial killer leaves a *very* artful display of a crime scene inside of the church that Jason and Steph operate out of. Tim is assigned as the leading detective on the case and ends up in a relationship with the both of them as he spirals in madness trying to catch the killer.

for Steph, i want to explore the idea of her father, Cluemaster, being a *very* prolific and artful serial killer who's whole gimmick was sending clues to the police until he was caught when Steph was still a child, and her and her mother were forced to go into witness protection for their own safety, which led her down the path of becoming a nun. it was a defining childhood moment for her to walk in on one of her father's crimes, so when she's the one who finds the crime scene in the church, it *immediately* sends her back to her childhood and she's caught between PTSD-fueled horror and a sick, enticing fascination. she wanted to become a journalist before going into WITSEC but that career was basically all but ruined for her. now she runs the small newspaper for the church and is desperate to write on the first "real" story she's ever had, dragging her into an intense obsession over the crime and trying to prove she can solve it.

for Jason, i want to deal with his history as Bruce. the current idea is that Bruce is Tim's police chief who adopted Jason and Dick from a young-ish age and raised them to be detectives, taking them to crime scenes as teenagers and teaching them the ins and outs of how criminals think. it leads to Dick becoming a detective, but when taking them to crime scenes led to Jason being kidnapped and brutally tortured by "Jack Napier", almost dying. Dick kills Napier to save Jason and it fractures their little family so badly that Dick switches departments to another city and Jason runs away at 17, eventually happening upon joining the clergy. he's the new, young priest in the church who's known for being very pretty but very emotionally distant even if he's nice enough. and he's *pissed* that Bruce is in his church investigating a murder and that no matter where Jason goes, he can't seem to get away from the horrors.

and for Tim, he's the young new detective in his department who is *entirely* unaware that he's been taken under Bruce's wing bc Bruce is treating him as a surrogate replacement for Dick and Jason. haven't fully decided his backstory yet, but it'll likely be similar to canon with losing his mother and father. i kind of want him to be lost and lacking a sense of direction. very gifted in noticing patterns and detective work, but it's clear he doesn't *really* want this job. and when he's assigned as the lead on a case that feels *way* too big for his experience bc Bruce is showing clear favoritism, he's forced to go to Steph for help, which leads to Jason ending up wrapped up with them too.

despite how heavy the plot *sounds*, i honestly want this fic to be like. 40% porn. like the show i want to explore a lot of fucked up sexual interests in Jason who's punishing himself for it, Steph being too interested in things for her own good and desperate for a taste of what "real life" feels like, and Tim just being incredibly repressed. like i want the line between horror and erotic to feel like a jumprope. lots of fucked up sex balanced with like. them actually trying to catch the killer. and then of course the emotional aspect of how Jason's baggage with Bruce works into all of it. also want Tim to have a mild hero worship for "the great Detective Dick Grayson" while being clueless that he's Bruce's son and Jason's brother. i sort of want it to be Steph-centric, but still have POVs from Tim and Jason just to round out their emotional arcs. i haven't fully decided everyone else who'll be in the fic but i know i want Cass to be a fellow nun and friend of Steph's, Babs to also work at the church, Helena to be Tim's favorite coworker, and possibly for Damian to be around somehow. those roles will probably get more fleshed out when i. watch the damn show tho.

anyway TLDR: religious imagery, body horror, kinky sex, and a mystery that might break everyone psychologically once they get to the bottom of it. i have some very specific scenes and dialogue planned out. probably cannibalism as a metaphor for love thrown in there too. idk i just want these three to be as fucked up as possible and unhinged about each other but fighting their repressed side with their unhinged feral side. and since it doesn't exist by god I'll create it.

[adrenaline-revolver]

So Astarion was somehow the only person in my party to pass a religious check and figure out that the prayer to selune was the way to open a chest and now i have brainworms about specifically sehanine moonbow and how the gods aren't all powerful.

Sehanine is the goddess of death, dreams, journeys, and the patron of moon elves. Fiercely protective but utterly despises the undead. She could have quite possibly been affronted by a vampire asking for her help. But she could have also ached for one of her own who was attacked by an undead, forced to be one of them. She could have sent visions of better days like Eilistraee does for drow, visions that would have seemed like half mad hallucinations to Astarion.

But from the time of the spellplauge (1385) to the second sundering (1482) she wasn't her own goddess but an aspect of selune, who was working for Sune until 1358. Astarion was changed in 1268, the game takes place in 1492.

When he says he called out to the gods, were they even there to answer?