#but Blade brainrot never goes away

[lurkingvoid]

I am 90% certain we're not getting a Blade story quest so I storyboarded my own in the shower.

It starts on the express. The weird memory guy at the back wants to talk to you. They tell you you've got a new memory to see, but that it's not as stable as clear cut as the others. Weird, but alright it's probably just another boss fight but remade for an event.

You enter the memory and it's all disconjointed at first. Flashes of a man with a lion cub, a long graceful dragon, a foxian with their back oh so purposely turned on you. It's incomprehensible at first, and then you come across a dark void. Spider lilies cover the floor like a carpet and they do not crush or wilt as you pass through.

After what feels like minutes of walking in a straight line you start to hear it. Blade's internal voice, trying to remember what he has forgotten. It starts off clear as day, almost panicked as glimpses of him start appearing, chasing after the mirages you saw earlier. Then the mara starts to seep in and he gets angrier, the images become more distorted and harder to make out and the frustration in his voice is so easy to make out you can feel it in your own chest.

Then Her voice appears. Like magic the images completely disappear, her voice warping the space around you to grow smaller until you can almost touch Blade's shoulder. You don't dare though. You watch as he hunches over, forcefully being reverted back to his earlier frustrated state by the woman's influence. He's trembling, you're not sure with anger or frustration but maybe it's both. Is it at himself, or the woman that suddenly goes quiet again.

Then and only then can you finally interact with Blade. It's no surprise he doesn't want you there but he stills keeps to his promise not to bring you direct harm. He refuses your help, whatever help you may offer, but neither of you know how to get out of there. You're as trapped in Blade's memories as he is. Together you wander the scape, one more desperate than the other to get out and back to the real world. He refuses to tell you anything, so instead you tell him a story or two. About you travels to other lands, about Herta's space station and a planet of spice and ice that you heard was once so green it could be seen for galaxies.

As you and Blade travel you get the choice to guide him, to help him. You come across more mirages of people he once knew and you get the choice to either help him remember or to help him avoid. It's a tricky balance, remember too much and the woman must soothe him again to avoid the mara taking over thus erasing all your progress. Avoid too much and he grows frustrated that his memories will never be his own, trapping you further in the void of madness.

When you eventually escape it isn't clear whether that was the real Blade or not, but you can rest easy knowing somehow you may have helped him avoid the mara a bit longer.

[lostreverb]

sent from above

(kai anderson x reader) in where you try to make your boyfriend's day a little sweeter

content: angst, use of knives (nothing crazy)

a/n: kai brainrot + maternal instincts combo goes crazyyyy

--

You sit on Winter's bed, watching as she sifts through boxes from her closet.

"You really do like my brother, don't you?..." She says with a solemn cadence.

You nod. "I do."

With a sigh, Winter hands you a faded piece of paper. It feels delicate, like it might crumble in your hands. "This is it…"

You trace the faded cursive carefully. "I won't tell him. I'll say I found it while cleaning. Thank you so much Winter."

"Uh- Yeah, no problem. Just… remember that he’s—"

"I know."

For weeks, Kai's paranoia has been ramping up, and you wanted to do something—anything—that might ground him, even briefly. So you'd gone to Winter, asking if she still had one of her mother's old recipes.

As anything was with Kai, this was a risk. This gesture could easily be turned against you; he might even accuse you of using his mother’s memory to manipulate him.

But for some reason you don't care.

--

Later, you're plating the dish when you hear the heavy clomp of combat boots, quickening as they approach, then coming to an abrupt stop.

"Perfect timing." You look up at your boyfriend and smile, holding the dish up slightly. "I made something for you."

Kai slowly walks to you, silent, calculating. He steps close—so close there’s barely space between you, with only the plate in your hands separating you.

"Apple Pie. The all-american dessert." Your words come out in a low murmur.

"Correct." He flicks open his pocket knife, carving off a bite and balancing it on the blade. "Open."

You part your lips instinctively, and he guides the piece to your mouth. As you bite down, the sweetness of the pastry mingles with a faint metallic tang from the knife's edge. Kai pulls it back with a slow precision, leaving a sharp taste lingering amid the warm notes of apple and spice.

Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, he turns the knife around, offering the handle to you. His eyes hold yours, dark and watchful, as you take it and mirror his gesture, bringing a piece to his lips. He leans forward, just enough to take the bite. As the familiar taste hits him, there's a shift—a crack in his steely facade. And for a split second, you see the boy he used to be, before everything turned dark.

Without a word, he raises a hand, a silent command for his guards to leave. They exchange glances but obey, slipping out of the kitchen.

Now, it’s just the two of you, alone.

He speaks in a whisper, but each word drips with a mix of wonder and suspicion. “She sent you… didn’t she?”

The words hang in the silence, and for a moment, his intense gaze softens, his brow knitting as if he’s trying to make sense of what he’s just said. “I knew it,” he breathes. “I knew she…”

He pauses, staring at you with a vulnerable intensity you've never seen before, like he's fighting to believe in something beyond his hardened reality. It's as if he's convinced that his late mother, somehow, some way, has sent you into his life—an angel, perhaps, to guide him, to protect him from the shadows he can't escape. The idea fills him with a fierce, quiet hope. His mistrust, his paranoia, all of it seems to melt away as he stares at you, searching for some sign, some proof of his mother.

You set the plate carefully on the counter behind you, keeping your movements slow and gentle, as if any sudden motion might startle him. Stepping forward, you raise your arms and slide them around him, feeling the tension that coils through his frame. Your hands find their way to his back, moving in soothing, slow circles, the warmth of your touch grounding him.

At first, he stiffens, caught off-guard by the unexpected embrace, his arms remaining at his sides. But gradually, as your hands continue their gentle rhythm along his back, he softens against you, letting the rigidity melt away. His shoulders drop, and you feel the faint rise and fall of his breath, a steadying rhythm that seems to settle him, little by little. Your touch is careful, maternal—each motion reassuring, as if you’re somehow reaching into the lonely places he’s kept hidden, places starved of comfort.

You press your cheek lightly against his shoulder, and the silence stretches between you, filled with a sense of calm that seems almost foreign to him. You can sense him leaning into the embrace, accepting the warmth you offer, maybe even craving it, though he would never say so.

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx @oceanblvd111 @andiloveher @vi0l3tgard3ns

[just-jordie-things]

If possible, could you please do cuddling headcannons? Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to or can't for any reason at all

remember to drink water and take breaks <3

YES YES YES I CAANNNN also i need to start incorporating choso into these brainrots ok so pls feel free to send stuff specifically for him if y'all have thoughts and ino too i love him sm

gojo satoru

sleep cuddler and there's no escaping from it

he's happy with being the big or little spoon, happy if you wanna lay on his chest, he doesn't care how it happens but he needs it mkay

hopefully you don't overheat bc if you try to scooch away from him he will be heartbroken

he likes to tease about it but really he just loves the feeling of you falling soundly asleep in his arms. loves how you snuggle into him in your sleep

fushiguro megumi

likes it when you rest your head in his lap.

whether he's reading or finishing up a report, it's comforting to have you there. sometimes you scroll through your phone and sometimes you go straight into a nap, he doesn't mind what you do. he just likes to have you close whenever he can

one day you make him lay on your lap while you're both lounging on the couch and he probably laughs at you when he complies

but then he settles into your thighs and you run your hands through his hair and he's out like baby in minutes

so now it's your guys' thing <3

itadori yuuji

likes to have you on his lap

it's his favorite thing to wrap his arms around you and hold you close to his chest. it's so warm and comfortable

will set his chin on your shoulder as you watch a movie or something

definitely whispers in your ear one minute but then is yelling at the tv the next. the whispering is sweet though

kisses your cheek a lot too, you're just so close he can't help it

inumaki toge

prefers to smother you a bit

it was a joke at first, the night he climbed on top of you and went boneless just to hear you laugh

but it was actually so comfy for the both of you that he sorta just stayed there. like a heavy blanket.

wraps his arms around you and tucks his face into your neck and snoozes

he loves feeling your heart beating against his chest. it's the most comforting thing in the world

okkotsu yuuta

if he could have you on top of him 24/7, he'd gladly accept it.

can only sleep if you're on his chest. not just your head, either. your whole body.

he will not be content until your legs are a tanlged mess and your hair is messily sprawled out across his chest.

he needs easy access to kissing your head a million times throughout the night

this goes for casual cuddling too. you're watching a movie together? get on top of him.

if he can't actively lay down, he'll just pick you up and hold you against his chest, just high enough that you can't touch the ground and have to cling to him

when he's on missions away from you, he sleeps holding a pillow against him, but it's not the same :(

kamo choso

likes being a little spoon AND I'LL DIE ON THIS HILL OKAY

he's never been held before he had no idea the amount of comfort having someone's arms around you could feel, and i think he'd be shy about it at first but once he's more comfortable with asking for what he wants, he'll ask for it all the time

you press so close, warming up his back with your chest and pushing your feet between his legs just to get closer

loves when it's late and you're whispering to one another, how you press your lips to his spine and shoulder blades, or rub the tip of your nose affectionately against his skin.

with your arms wrapped around him he can easily hold both of your hands in one of his, and he always keeps them close to his chest all night

takuma ino

finishing off strong with big spoon lover

holding you is the greatest part of his every day, and he's not afraid to tell you. he'll text you on particularly rough/slow days just to tell you how he can't wait till you're in his arms again

if you get into bed and don't automatically settle against him, he will drag you into his embrace. there's no getting out of it

always tucks his face into the nape of your neck, smelling your hair and kissing your skin as he quietly tells you how much he missed you all day

wraps his arms around you and holds you tight against his chest all night. he can't stand to be apart from you anymore than he has to.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

ope.. i got brainrot while driving into work again so here's a rockstar!eddie steddie blurb that goes with this song.

cw for possible refrences to suicidal ideation depending on how you interpret the lyrics (more literal or more metaphorical)

pairing: steddie | word count: 840 | rated: M

The first time Eddie tells Steve he loves him, it’s while they’re awash in the afterglow; Eddie’s still half sprawled over Steve’s bare back with his finger tracing patterns idly over his skin.

“I could trace enough constellations on you to get from here to Mars.” he says as if voicing a thought rather than to Steve.

“Oh yeah?” He snorts.

“Mmhm. And I’d love you from here to there too.”

The steady movement of Steve’s back shudders to a stop, his breath faltering. “Oh yeah?”

A new featherlight touch grazes the skin between his shoulder blades. Eddie’s lips. “From here to Mars, sweetheart.”

Mars becomes a thing between them, and between them alone; “Love you to Mars, Stevie,”, “I love you all the way back home, Eds.” or after some bigot gives either of them grief over their relationship, “Let’s just run away.”, “To where?”, “Hmm. I dunno, maybe Mars?”

So when Eddie has enough of Hawkins, when he does run, and his note is devoid of any reference to their neighboring red planet, it’s crushing.

Steve finds out from Wayne that Eddie and the boys had gone to New York, a two album contract for their band too good of an opportunity to pass up.

He’s jaded and hurt for a long time. Well into Corroded Coffin’s rise to worldwide stardom, and the feeling lasts until a headline in the aisle of the grocery store catches his eye. It screams ‘CORRODED COFFIN’S NORTH AMERICAN TOUR CUT SHORT.”, but there are more: “Frontman Eddie Munson checks in”, and “Eddie Munson: More substance than substance?”.

He and Robin are in Chicago now, running a small bookstore/coffee shop, and Jeff gets in contact with him.

“He’s okay, he’s already doing better. I figured you’d want to know.”

Jeff says it’d been getting worse and worse until Chrissy (who had long been the Robin to Eddie’s Steve, and who’s now his manager) had had enough and sent him off to get help. “He’ll be back sooner than later, I’m sure.”

The next anyone besides Chrissy hears from Eddie, it’s on the radio. A new song from Corroded Coffin’s Eddie Munson that’s nothing like anyone had ever heard from him. 

Steve hears it first when he’s preparing to open one day, that’s part of the reason why it comes as such a surprise. He has never tuned the shop radio to anything other than the mainstream channels, not wanting this exact thing to happen and hear the voice of the man that broke his heart to pieces.

“Up next, a change of pace from the currently still elusive Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin fame,” the announcer says as the song starts in behind him. Steve freezes at the name. “You heard of this guy? He and that band of his had been making waves in the metal scene for years now; and he’s reportedly been checked out of rehab for a couple months without anyone hearing anything from him. Until now.”

The song starts for real now, the acoustic fading into the background as a voice so unmistakably Eddie, his real southern twang leftover from growing up in Tennessee shining through, breaks through it.

Steve’s so floored at hearing his voice again, that he doesn’t really register the lyrics until Eddie croons out “What if I run away to Mars?”

“Mars.” Steve breathes out.

Eddie is singing about Mars.

Steve had always assumed he was forgotten. That after the years of fame and years without him, that the memories Eddie had of him would be locked away just as tight as Steve’s of Eddie were.

He can’t even continue to think about it because Eddie keeps going, “Would you find me in the stars? Would you miss me in the end, if I run out of oxygen?”

Eddie’s singing on his own, it’s just him and his guitar and his own backup vocals and he sounds so horribly sad.

Eddie’s not okay. Eddie’s not okay! Where is he? Where did he go after getting out of rehab?

Steve whips his phone out of his pocket, leaning heavily on the front counter now for support, and searches frantically for Chrissy’s number.

He’s hoping she hadn’t changed it when Eddie’s voice comes back in over his guitar, “I can't tell which way is home, I've been gone for so long..It's an empty world up here“

Steve freezes again.

He listens to the entire rest of the song there. Phone in hand, thumb hovering over the call button, and heart however many miles away to where Eddie is.

“Three, two, one, I miss you..I'm sorry I got issues” Eddie sings.

Steve finds himself thinking ‘I miss you too’ and ‘It’s okay.’

Eventually, the song ends with Eddie’s voice only. No backup instrumentals, only his voice crooning harmonically with himself 

“Would you miss me in the end if I run out of oxygen? When I run away to Mars..”

He presses the button.

“Steve,” She says in a surprised greeting, “Hi!”

“Where is he?”

star divider is from @saradika

short little part 2 here! | also on AO3

[idiotwithanipad]

More 2am brainrot angst in these horrid times🥺

Robin has nightmares often, he just doesn't admit it. They aren't 'peaceful' nightmares either. Not just waking up suddenly and going straight back to sleep, no. They're terrors. They made him fear going to sleep for 20 years, only adding to his trauma and 'madness'. It's the same nightmare each time; he's all alone again, no life, no home, just the burned tree and wet grass. The dark night sky above with Moonah nowhere in sight, the wind cold and the trees in the forest creaking like a chorus of people mourning and wailing in sorrow.

He can hear voices up ahead but every time he goes to chase after them, they just seem to get further and further away. They're calling his name, his older name, the name he went by before. At first their just calling his name, then they're shouting his name, and eventually they're screaming and shouting his name until they sound hoarse, as if they've been through hours of this. He tries to call back to them but no words comes from him, he can't make a sound.

The cries for his name then turn into screams, just screams. Horrible, blood chilling, lung ripping screams. They aren't coming from up ahead in the distance anymore, they sound like their coming from everywhere; every tree, every blade of grass at his feet, the very wind itself. Every time they start, he wants to clamp his hands over his ears so he won't hear them anymore, but his arms are seemingly trapped at his sides and he can't move them at all.

The screams go from sounding anguished and pained, to vengeful and hate filled. He can't take it anymore. He can't move, but he spins around anyway, SOMETHING spins him around. He comes inch to inch, face to face with his late mother, her jaw practically dropped down against her chest, blood gargling from her throat, eyes bulging and full of fury, the flesh of her face peeling away and rotting in an instant.

He shoots up, awake. Yelping and batting his hands at the air in front of him, pushing himself back away from where he slept. Sweat prickling at his hairline and the back of his neck, the room suddenly feels as cold as that empty land in his nightmare. His chest rises and falls frantically as he looks to every corner of the room to make sure that there ARE corners, that there ARE walls, and that he isn't still in that terrible place.

He doesn't give himself a chance to calm down, he gets to his feet and leaves the room, heading into the other rooms. Checking to make sure everyone is still there. Everyone is blissfully asleep on the beds. He gives a sigh of relief when he can hear Julian snore, he takes a few deep breaths when he spots Pat lying on his back, being careful not to roll onto his arrow and wake himself up again with a girly shriek. He goes into Kitty's room and approaches the young, sleeping woman. Carefully flipping the feathers resting in her hair up and away from her face so that they wouldn't tickle her awake again. If he could pick up the blanket, he'd tuck her in tight and wish her pleasant dreams.

He checks on everyone, The Captain, Thomas, Fanny. He even searches the whole house until he finds Humphrey's head resting atop some shelves in the library. All the while, his mind is in a frenzy; he won't be able to rest until he's made sure his tribe is safe, only then will he be able to shake the feeling of somebody stalking right behind him, breathing and croaking down his neck with each step he took. If he'd turn his head to the side, he'd come nose to nose with his poor mutilated mother again, never sure if he'd ever be able to earn her forgiveness for his one act of accidental negligence. An act he's still paying the price for every night in his dreams.

He checks on Alison and Mike, and their newborn lying in the cot. He checks his mouse family and Graham, the suit of armour. He goes outside to Fanny's pet cemetery to check that all the familiar scents of the long departed animals are still there where he remembers them being laid to rest. He looks up at the stars and counts his familiar friends. Moonah is above him and emerging from the black clouds, her pale face gazing down at him in all her pity and mercy.

He can go inside now. His mother isn't behind him anymore, he doesn't have to fear looking over his shoulder as he ascends the stairs. He doesn't have to keep his ears open for screaming coming from the woods, he doesn't have to worry about seeing that burned tree again, and he doesn't have to be alone anymore.

At least, not until he decides to go to sleep again.

He's back in his room now, against the wall which he's trying not to fall back through. He's stroking the furs at his chest and clinging to himself, letting his held back tears finally fall.

[artheresy]

Okay listen, I think Blade needs to be taken away from me. I haven’t had as much sleep this week and the sheer evolution in my obsession with him has become concerning

He is haunting my every waking thought, pls send help

All I can think about is stuff like how much more it hurts me, like intense psychic damage, when people say “Blade is Yingxing!” than when people arguing the same with Dh and Df because of how strongly the disconnect is emphasized. How Blade gave himself his name, after his rebirth as Jingliu said. How his character stories say Yingxing died his first and only death and how they immediately follow that up with Blade’s inability to connect with Yingxing’s past goals and passions. How, while he does take on the responsibility of his sins as his own due to… that’s how karma works ofc, there are still places where he is referred to as separately from Yingxing whether by the text or even by himself. How that disconnect with Yingxing is likely not only in part due to the “true death” and the mara affecting him and his mental state, but also the self dehumanization instilled into him by Jingliu during their lessons. And so, so many other things…

Or thinking about how, his whole outlook regarding their sin is literally directly from Jingliu and what she taught him while y’know, immensely traumatizing him through hundreds of deaths. Hundreds of deaths where it likely wasn’t an instant death given the thousands of times he was stabbed and the course of his entire first character story. Like, when you stop to think about just how much of how we see him currently is directly the result of Jingliu (and ofc, overall this all happened bc of the sin they committed which influenced her actions and his very existence, like jesus christ why is his lore so depressing), how you can see reflections in the way he treats/addresses Dan Heng and their shared sin to the way Jingliu does. Literally the fact that “Of five people, three must pay a price.” is Jingliu’s mantra and even after hundreds of years, he still follows it. UGH Sorry this is all word dump I know this is probably not coherent, I really need to sleep but trust I could keep ranting about this topic and how meaningful the disconnect between YX and Blade is and how painful it is to even see ppl insist Bld is Yx sometimes like-

Or, y’know, thinking about what would have happened to him if Jingliu never found him. Who could have found him next? Where would he have ended up? Where did he wake up in the first place? Would he have gone on living a new life, without any knowledge of who he had once been given he woke up without even knowing his own name? Would he adopt a new name at some point, either given to him by someone he eventually met or chosen himself after hearing others’ tales and histories? Would the Stellaron Hunters still have come for him given his connection to one of the Nameless? I mean, Kafka said it was his immortality and swordsmanship… if he never learned to wield a sword with Jingliu, would someone else have been destined to be a Stellaron Hunter in his place? Would any happiness be possible for him at all in a life like that? Since eventually he might see the people around him die and fade while he remains eternally youthful, if he ended up finding short life species at least. And eventually his memories would still catch up to him, whether the past mixing with the present or just his current memories since that seems to be how short life species are able to be mara struck. All via memories. Just how much would his destiny have changed? (Ngl, might make this into an au idea since I have brainrot, but I’m not sure if I need the added pain)

And y’know for good measure, why don’t I just keep thinking about how his primary reason for wanting to finally die and rest is, I mean a big mix of factors, but especially because of the sheer pain he lives in every single day. That pain that only goes away for a brief moment when he is killed, before he is drenched in it again. Perhaps not even just solely the horrible physical pains he has, but the pain and mental anguish of even being mara struck at all. It’s sad to think about, especially since it seems the only ending, at least that’s somewhat happy, for him is one where he can finally die and stay dead like ouch. OW! Thanks Hoyoverse for fucking up my brain chemistry with your emotional punching bag.

[toastofwaterdeep]

Baldur's Gate durgetash AU brainrot undercut. Dead dove, do not eat. Etc.

This is how I think a best case (in their opinion) Durge getting what they want pre-tadpole would play out.

So my Durge, Juno, I think the big betrayal to Bhaal that they write the prayer for forgiveness for isn't that they don't want to/can't kill Gortash, I think it's that they want time. Time to enjoy the things they've achieved: their power, their reign, Gortash. In my headcanon, they ask, and they get the silent treatment in return. So when Orin comes to take over, it's not merely her rising up the ranks, it's a call to action. You betrayed dad, and he's done with you. See how you get on without his favour.

But the brainrot AU is what if Bhaal had agreed. Durge would have succeeded in destroying the world. They would have been the last living soul. What's the rush?

Of course, if Durge and Gortash ruled together, let's say marriage, kids... those kids would have to die. Naturally, I like to picture them having four daughters. The oldest, Antiope, is 100% her father's daughter and Juno considers her to have the features of them both. She has all of Gortash's guile and charm with Juno's efficiency and cunning. They absolutely set her up to be their heir and rule after them. Naively.

When Bhaal calls to collect Juno yields. They had their fun and now it's over. They convince Gortash to come away, just them and their girls. They feign a reason why they have to catch up later while the family goes ahead so they can use the Netherbrain to kill everyone. Almost everyone.

Then they meet them, completely ignorant to what has happened and what is in store.

They swore Gortash would be last, so the girls have to go first. But Antiope, her sisters' fierce protector, wakes up in the night.

When Juno wakes Gortash in the night, poisoned and powerless, she explains that it's time and their children are waiting for them. There is no resisting at this point, it's done, Gortash just laments that their girls are Bhaalspawn. They won't be waiting for him in Banehold. It will be him alone. To which Juno tells him Antiope has rejected Bhaal, and she will meet him in Banehold.

"She was always more yours than mine. Always. The gestalt of us both, but more of you than me. She was so cross with me, and she fought me with such fury, I was so proud. You must tell her how much I love her. Tell her I loved the few years I had with her, but they were all borrowed. Without my father's grace, she would never have existed after all."

Then Juno holds their dying, mourning husband until they die upon father's alter. They thank Bhaal with a radiant, contented smile and then fulfil his wish that they would be that last creature left alive in faerun before plunging the blade into their own heart.

Yeah, so I think that's what a world domitation plot/evil office relationship gets you.

[early20sfailingplenty]

Hello fellow sinclair brainrot sufferer, i wanna ask what's your take on what happened to their parents, theres so many different ways some ppl pan it out

Hi nonnie!

Hmm... my take is quite simple but I gotta give you some exposition to set it up, so here's how my thought process goes:

HOW is set in 2005 & the twins were born 1974 (Lester born '79 because he's five years younger than the twins), and Ambrose hadn't had the sugar mill for a decade when the film was set, which means that the town closed/the brothers began to carry on what Momma started in 1995.

So that means; 1995 - 1974 = 21

The twins began their murderous... hobby (???) when they were 21 & that means sweet Lester started to help them out by luring in victims when he was 16 (1995 - 1979).

Brian said that Bo was making up the story about Trudy having a cyst in her brain & Victor committing suicide when he couldn't save her and I'm inclined to agree with him; Bo has a lot of fun trying to get Carly and Wade to relax in Ambrose.

So exposition done, 21 year olds Bo and Vincent decide that enough is enough. They pick a parent each; Vincent picks Trudy because he wants to get revenge on her for what she put himself and his brothers through (but if Bo asks, Vincent is 100% honest and tells him that he did it for Bo; he suffered the worst of the abuse at the hands of Trudy, though of course all three brothers were neglected/mistreated/abused etc. and Vincent wants her to receive her comeuppance).

I'm not sure how Vincent would have killed her; at 21, they were very new to killing but very familiar with rage, so he probably killed her with a very swift, very deliberate flash of a scalpel (he didn't have his twin blades yet, they come later with confidence) or some other instrument from Victor's office.

And Bo... oh, Bo. Bo wants to take power back from daddy, so Bo takes his head right off with a well aimed shotgun. His hands didn't shake, his jaw didn't tremble, his baby blues were icy as he looked daddy straight in the eyes and told him to say hi to momma in hell, 'cuz there ain't no way they're goin' up; Bo is sure as shit 'bout that.

Lester didn't have anything to do with his parents' actual deaths. At 16, he's far too fucking young and the twins wanted to protect Lester from seeing it. He only finds out when they're dead and the evidence of the murders has been removed and arranged into a nice alibi

(i.e. Trudy is encased in wax and positioned in the church to dry out and stabilise at her forever funeral & Victor is... disassembled and buried in various parts on the outskirts of town; some of him ends up in the roadkill pit which Lester had already started working on by then. He had to start young to try to support the way he wanted to get away from Ambrose (he never would or could; he loves his brothers and he's involved in all of it just as much as they are).

Bo and Vincent evaded the truth with Lester and maybe even gave him the same story which Carly and Wade hear from Bo in 2005; it seems a bit rehearsed even though he's fucking around according to Brian. Lester has always suspected the truth, but he knows not to ask questions he doesn't want the answer to.

So that's it for my take!!! What do you think, nonnie? I love hearing theories like this!

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

sir, ma’am, person, or other pronouns, you cannot just post good writing ideas right before I sleep /j

I’d like to see that golden house prompt as a short story,,, possibly????😳

-💃

spoiler! i ain't good at choreographing fights but uh i THINK i was poetic enough so it still sounds cool??? hope that's ok!! this is also inspired by some of the brainrot i've been having and getting in the past few days so i can definitely make a part two!! also normal Childe’s there for a bit original prompt was of FL Childe injuring you during the golden house fight!! read Part Two here!!: The Sky’s Tears ~ * ~ Golden House is Falling Down Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Worrying, descriptions of anger, fighting (battles), a corpse, allusions to blood, pain, potential death, lightning, electrocution

~ * ~

Sometimes Childe worried you. It came with his job, you supposed. You were well aware of his status as a Fatui Harbinger, although you’ve never personally seen him at work- it had been a casual accident when you walked into him discussing plans with his subordinates. The two of you hadn’t been close back then, only acquaintances, and he made you swear to secrecy. Well, technically he had threatened you, but you didn’t particularly mind. You weren’t as in love with Liyue as some of your friends were, and you, unlike many people, understood the importance of a well-paying job. Having his position exposed to the public could very well get him fired. Those had been your concerns, so long ago. But now, as you hurried after the Traveler in all their glory, those pitiful worries seemed so far away, replaced instead by anxious thoughts flurrying by about life and death. You weren’t anyone of particular importance in the harbor, but you always made sure to pay careful attention to any rumors and gossip you heard. You always took them with a grain of salt, of course, but you had long ago learned that it was good to keep things you heard in your mind as potential possibilities. Liyue had a habit of having “impossible” events happen anyways. It really got on your nerves sometimes. Last week’s whispers had been full of a Fatui plan about meddling with the panicking government, after Rex Lapis had allegedly fallen from the sky, his status as the oldest living archon gone. Seeing that the Fatui’s reputation wasn’t particularly good, you had filed the thought away to consider later. A few days later, it came true. And Childe seemed to vanish into thin air, shifting your worries instantaneously over to him. It was funny, how close the two of you had gotten in the weeks he’d been in Liyue. At least, you were close to him. The Traveler was kind enough to let you accompany them to the famed Golden House, just to cover all possible leads. Their steps are light and quick as you approach the elegant building, all lined with gold and jade, and you can almost hear the tinkling sound of mora within. The Traveler stares up at the enormous door, clutching their sword. They seem prepared for a fight. You gulp, hoping that their stance is just how they stand as a default. The doors to the Golden House swing open, and the Traveler gestures for you to follow them, a determined look in their eyes. You enter together, and momentarily you’re distracted by the piles of mora scattered around the floor- probably more mora than you’d see in your entire life. Your eyes scan the room as the glimmer of coins snatches your attention, a tendency that friends and family had always teased you lightheartedly about- they’d call you a crow or a magpie. You didn’t mind being a bird. It sounded fun, to fly away from all your problems. Finally your gaze lands on the corpse of Rex Lapis, floating in the center-back of the room like a morbid decoration put on display. Despite it being very, very dead, it emanates an aura of power, and you involuntarily shiver, the temperature seeming to drop by a few degrees. Suddenly you hear the great doors of the Golden House slam shut, and someone’s voice questions why they, the Traveler, still lingered. The three of you, little Paimon included, turn in surprise. It’s Childe, the very person you were fretting over and looking for. You sigh quietly in relief, but your fleeting moment of calm is quickly dashed as the Traveler silently challenges him to a duel. Hastily you scramble to get out of the way, and just barely find yourself “out-of-bounds” when the arena for their fight flares to life as they both ready their weapons. Childe retrieves his bow with a twisted smile, a counterpart to the Traveler’s iron stoicness. But it seems his gaze lingers on you, and softens for a brief moment, something you tell yourself is just your imagination, because you doubt he was ever your friend to begin with. As someone whose work isn’t associated with adventuring, your knowledge of combat is limited, but even you can see the

skill of both the Traveler and Childe as their blades clash. Several times a burst of elemental energy strikes the burning walls of the arena, and you’re thankful for the barrier between you and them, because you have very little chance of surviving the power of their abilities. When Childe’s clothes darken and the mask falls over his face, you remember hearing something about a far more powerful and dangerous version of Visions- Delusions, items the Tsaritsa, Cryo Archon and ruler of Snezhnaya, rewards to her most loyal and deserving followers. Childe’s is Electro, and the crackle of static energy he slashes towards the Traveler makes your hair stand on end. You shield your eyes from the bright lights dancing around the arena, and when you reopen them, Childe has disappeared. And he reappears next to Rex Lapis’ corpse. Several things happen at once. The Geo Archon’s Gnosis is gone, taken by neither the Harbinger or the Traveler. Paimon looks worried, the Traveler looks shocked, and Childe enraged- You blink and he’s changed. Suddenly several feet taller, he now floats, some sort of terrible creature you’ve never seen before. Everything is loud, too loud, and you clap your hands over your ears, as the floor breaks away beneath you. And you fall with the Traveler and Paimon into the chamber below. You feel something catch you- an enormous clawed hand- and set you down more or less gently into a single large room. The room is the arena, an arena you stand in with no escape. The Gnosis is gone, and Childe is a monster, one of both Hydro and Electro and a foreign, starry magic that makes your skin crawl. And the battle only continues. Luckily the Traveler is adamant on staying away from you, drawing Childe’s attacks to the other side of the arena entirely, and for a majority of the fight the most you have to do is dodge falling arrows and water amalgamations. Childe’s furious questions about the Gnosis soon fade into hisses and growls as he loses himself more and more into the horrible joy of battle. You lean over, coughing slightly from the water that splashed you as a consequence of his attacks and the exertion from dodging and keeping your balance in the Hydro-soaked room. The Traveler screams, and you look up too late as a burst of electro slashes across your chest. Then everything goes white and high pitched, your senses bursting alongside the elemental energy as it runs up your damp skin and clothes. The pain from the combination of Hydro and Electro in your veins brings tears to your eyes, and it’s only amplified around your torso as you vaguely feel something warm and sticky dripping down. Someone shakes you, panicking, calling your name, but everything is white, cold noise. The sounds around you are muffled as the battle slows to a halt, and all you hear is ringing. Another hand, sharp and clawed, brushes against your arm, but it retreats when someone starts shouting. A blade is brandished as someone yells at a monster to stay away, he’s done enough damage, how dare he, and you hear a mournful, desperate chitter through the haze of static. Ah, that curious sound, it makes your heart ache. But what, or who, is it? The sword slices through the air as the monster is pushed away by a blonde-haired Traveler’s rage, and it soon joins into the pitching, ringing note in your ears before it tapers into silence and sorrow, leaving only the inky abyss of darkness crawling up to your eyes as the pain fades into weightlessness. This time, you let yourself fall. In the harbor, the Fair Lady is informed that the Golden House is falling down, falling down.

[kae-karo]

thomato/tomokazu brainrot

i'm living in the 'ayato is tomo' world where ayato ran from home due to the vision hunt decree and thoma/ayaka knew about him disappearing, tried to keep it under wraps, etc

thoma always loved ayato and hated when he started talking abt leaving, bc it went from 'vision hunt decree bad' to 'i literally can't do anything and i can't live like this' and he left thoma and thoma felt betrayed

ayato (changed his name to tomo) met kazuha, they traveled together for a while. tomokazu brainrot ensues. but then tomo got fed up with the vision hunt decree (kept him up at night that it was still going on) and finally went to challenge baal. didn't die, bc she recognized him, as did sara, but he almost did. kazuha took his vision, which seemed to die out bc he ran away with it.

but ayato recovered (as ayato) and forgot his ambitions and his hurt about the decree, which thoma is conflicted over - on the one hand, he has his ayato back. on the other, both he and ayaka know what happened, and ayato is still...different. he looks to thoma for comfort, but mumbles a name - something like 'kazuha' - in his sleep. when he sleeps, which isn't often enough for thoma's concerns.

one day, thoma finds ayato sitting in front of a mirror with his hair tied up in a high ponytail, just staring at his reflection. frowning. he notices thoma, tries to smile but it doesn't quite meet his eyes. 'just messing around', he says with a forced laugh, and thoma's stomach turns. that's how he'd turned up to fight baal, with his hair like that. that's how thoma almost lost him, permanently. he laughs louder, comes to ayato's side and pulls the ribbon from his hair. lets it fall, then ties it like his own, and it falls in an elegant wave down his back. this is his ayato, thoma reminds himself, but it isn't.

after a while, he asks. do you remember where you were? ayato doesn't. lots of shrugs, but his gaze goes distant, and he excuses himself from thoma's presence. thoma doesn't follow him, not at first, but when he finally does, he finds ayato sitting beneath a tree, some stray cat he's coaxed onto the estate grounds curled up in his lap. his hair tied up high on his head. this long, it looks more like ayaka's, but he'd cut it shorter when he left. this long, it looks like he could be ayato again, but thoma knows that he isn't.

he looks for kazuha afterward, but finds little. not a family name, and for all he knows, a fake, but he doesn't give up. can't, when ayato asks him to help cut his hair - he's started wearing it up, though he jokes that he can't look just like ayaka or nobody will ever be able to tell them apart, so won't you help me, thoma? and thoma does, of course. he could never quite say no to ayato. has loved him for far too long to-

to want him to stay where he's unhappy, in a life and a time and a stasis and an eternity that he'd tried to escape. thoma understands it better, now, even if it hurts. when he sees kazuha, hears his name from gorou for the first time, thoma nearly breaks down. hand over his mouth, trying to hold back tears, he stalks over to kazuha. no recognition flashes in his eyes, though, and he wonders - hates that he wonders, but does all the same - if ayato ever spoke of him. if he ever missed thoma enough to mention him to someone else so obviously precious to him.

ayato, he says when he manages to lower his hand, and kazuha stares. blinks. then recognition dawns, bright and hot, and his eyes go wide with the sharp breath he inhales. tears spring to his eyes then, too, and thoma doesn't know how to handle that. but they stand in the middle of the resistance camp and thoma's two seconds from losing his composure as well, so he tips his head toward the trees and kazuha follows

it's painful, telling him. harder than he thought it'd be, but thoma understands that pain all the same - he's felt it, too. kazuha takes it all in silence, tears gleaming but yet unfallen, and thoma doesn't know what to say when he asks if ayato remembers him. how to say yes, he does and he doesn't, he calls your name in his sleep and doesn't remember it in the morning. how to tell him who thoma wants ayato to be, who he was before, and not who he was with kazuha. thoma isn't a bad person, but he feels insanely selfish right now, as though he's waving his ayato in kazuha's face.

kazuha kept his vision, though. kept it, hoped without hoping, and thoma's stomach twists. guilt, guilt more than anything - he doesn't want to lose ayato again. how can he lose ayato again, how can he give his ayato away? will returning the vision restore his memories, too? kazuha asks, and thoma wants to say it won't. he wants to protect ayato and protect himself, because what if ayato does remember? what if he loves kazuha more than he ever loved thoma? he certainly can't have loved thoma more, or he'd have returned, right?

but thoma isn't even certain this is his ayato. he is, sometimes, and thoma wants that, but...but it hurts, to see the distance in ayato's stare, the sleepless nights where he wanders in the forest, where thoma follows him from afar. where he does nothing but walk though the evening, until he turns around and thoma rushes back so that he can pretend he hadn't been watching out for ayato. even though ayato's skill with a blade has only improved, though he can't remember how or why. it takes only one minute of watching kazuha spar with another resistance member for thoma to determine who he'd learned from.

there is a pain in letting go. there is a pain in holding on. and thoma can't do either one - he loves ayato too deeply to be selfish.

i don't know if he'll remember, but we should find out, shouldn't we?

it's easier than he expected, traveling with another wanted individual, and kazuha knows too well the burdens of keeping himself hidden. thoma understands a part of it, too, but kazuha is nothing short of incredible at it. it's no wonder ayato stuck around, you're a natural at this, he'd said, on a better day, when the sun shone and kazuha had kept them deftly clear of any shogunate army patrols. the wrong words, he'd realized a little too late. kazuha only nodded, a sharp thing for his typically gentle demeanor, and thoma did not know what to do with that. couldn't get more than a few words out of him the rest of the day.

he loved you too, thoma thinks in kazuha's direction. he doesn't know how to say it, though, because it isn't his place to say. but if not his, then whose? ayato doesn't remember. and it hurts, to see kazuha hurt in the same way that thoma did. he's certainly not a weak spirit, thoma's come to find, but he is a gentle one. kind and a bit mischievous when he wants to be, and thoma can see it, why ayato would fall for him. two of a kind in such different ways. had ayato found comfort with kazuha? adventure? something else, something he'd been searching for when he left? maybe thoma will never know. maybe the only one left to remember is kazuha.

what was he like? thoma asks one night around a dim fire, stirred to life on occasion by either he or kazuha. kazuha's gaze flicks up, and thoma does not need to clarify his question. excited. every little thing brought him such excitement. a thunderstorm, a clear day, a full moon. a small smile tugs at kazuha's lips, the first thoma has seen in days. it calms something within him - i will keep him safe, i will keep his heart safe for you, ayato. kazuha tells him of ayato- of tomo, the name he went by until his last day, until he left kazuha and went to face the raiden shogun herself. and thoma listens, and aches, and loves ever more fiercely. ayato was ayato, the pieces that kazuha saw are the pieces that thoma saw, if from a different angle. you are pretty short after all, thoma says with a grin, and kazuha blinks at him. there's a rush of wind, suddenly, and kazuha's hovering aloft several feet in the air, and thoma laughs louder than he has in well over a year. and kazuha floats down again, rests a little closer to thoma this time.

what was ayato like? kazuha asks in turn, and thoma knows that he does not refer to the time since he's returned. that is for...for later. a rascal, actually, i bet you two got along far too well, he says, and kazuha laughs then, and his head falls on thoma's shoulder, and it's late and dark and warm and thoma talks for as long as he can, every story he'd clung desperately to when ayato left him, and he shares them all with kazuha, who loved him too.

when they return, ayato waits for them at the teahouse. hold onto his vision, let me go in first? thoma asks, and kazuha nods. he wonders if kazuha wishes to put this off, too. how does it feel to have your heart ripped out, returned bloody and tattered, only to feel it torn from you again?

thoma, where have you been? he's crushed in a hug before he knows what to do, what to say, and tears prick his eyes. you had me worried sick! ayato pulls back, and thoma stares at him. sees him in a way he hasn't before - not his ayato. not the ghost of tomo. the two as one. he drags ayato back into a hug. i brought someone here to meet you, he says into ayato's ear, and when he turns, kazuha stands in the doorway. frozen, terrified. he must look to kazuha as he did before, if a bit more polished, and thoma wishes he could hear kazuha's thoughts.

he gets ayato's instead. who are you? not unkind, but curious. why...why am i crying? a laugh from ayato's lips, one that kazuha echoes before he clamps a hand over his mouth. the other holds his vision, ayato's vision, perhaps even his memories.

my name is kaedehara kazuha, i traveled with you for a time while you were running from the vision hunt decree. i knew you as tomo. the name carries such reverence, such love, and thoma turns back to find ayato's eyes wide. tears, as he said, leak from the corners, and thoma wonders again - did you love him more? do you still? how does it feel to lose one's heart?

kazuha... so quietly spoken. does he remember? it's hard to tell, with how he clings still to thoma. it's hard to hope, but he hopes all the same - he loves you, do you remember?

[skidushenjoystechnoblade]

brainrotting that c!niki and c!ranboo confront techno before he goes to free c!dream

Strange, wasn't it? The bitter snow had never troubled the baker before, in fact she had taken a slight solace in it, but now it seemed to eat away at his skin, an uncomfortable prickling sensation that turned the limbs to jelly. "We don't want to do this Techno." Don't want to? Hah, what silliness. She had no right to even consider the chance of victory, let alone mercy. "Then please, let me through." The burly pink silhouette outlined in the snow looked like some ethereal crusader, come to exact his justice for all it was worth. Every word seemed to catch falling snowflakes, grasping at the motions to leap off of next. "I don't want to do this either." "You- you know he's too dangerous to be let out of prison, right?" The lanky enderman beside her provided an unfortunate contrast to the warrior. His netherite clung to him uncomfortably, a creature trapped into an armored bear hug he didn't quite know how to extricate himself from. Almost graciously, the winds snatched away any moment of discourse that was left to have, the howling of the bleak white streaks tugging at her fingers and the tears that lost themselves to the blizzard as quickly as they came. There was no chance in the fiery dungeons of Hell they could win this, even if she wanted to.  her heart lining up at the runner's platform. Thump, thump, thump. The blade that seemed to so unnaturally protrude from her grip felt alien, a heaviness that reeked of hesitancy and cowardice. a quick glance at Ranboo did little to soothe her turmoil, his axe held more steadily by the billowing of the blank winds than the hands he called his own. Nevertheless, the sword raised itself from memory, directed at the billowing cape before her. The line in the snow was drawn, all that was left was to fight. A flash of the pigman's eyes caught her gaze; stormy blue irises obscured by the snow almost betraying a look that screamed of regret before it was gone in an instant like a ghost. And slowly, he took a pace forwards. Niki's voice hitched in her throat, lodged in place by an invisible vise. Two paces. Ranboo began to shiver. Three paces. Her muscles froze in the cold, sword within striking distance, and yet Techno hadn’t even drawn a weapon.  Four paces. She could hear his breath, and yet they were statues; frozen monoliths.  "I'm sorry." Five, and he was gone, line in the snow long passed. The two of them stood there, unable to move for an eternity. Finally, as the snow began to settle and the sun uncovered itself once more, they began to breathe.

[kozumebunny]

Last Forever

tldr: hnng lucifer and luke brainROT but luke is OLDER and there is SEXUAL HINTS and there is DEATH and there is SADNESS and there is PAIN and there is CIGARETTES

thank you for coming to my ted talk. obey me brainrot begins now.

Things could have done differently. Luke used to dwell on it, but now there was no point in dwelling on it. No matter how much he looked back on it there was nothing else he could fix.

He turns to look at Lucifer. He's changed so much, fallen so far from that angel he used to idolize. Lucifer is lying beside him engaging in his newest hobby: smoking. It suits him, the corruption of your body from the inside out. But it doesn't suit Lucifer, the right hand man of the Devil King Diavolo.

Lucifer's stubble has gotten a little bit longer and paired with his cigarette it makes it obvious something is wrong. Lucifer is staring straight ahead, thinking. Luke can't stop staring and he doesn't know what compels him but he grabs the cigarette out of Lucifer's mouth, crawls across his chest and puts it out on the ashtray on the nightstand.

Lucifer takes the chance to snake his arm around Luke's waist and holds him there. "Mind telling me what that's for?"

Luke settles in, lying on top of Lucifer. "You know you're not okay right? I thought you gave me a long winded speech about how 'demons aren't all bad and stop saying demons are lesser' and all that crap. Did I miss when it went out the window or-"

Lucifer gives a harsh spank to Luke and he lets out a yelp.

"Hush angel. Behave and go to sleep."

Luke blushes and loops his arms around Lucifer's neck and mutters a 'yes sir' as he falls asleep.

---

I wish I never asked to stay at the House of Lamentation with you.

"You think you get a choice, human?", Lucifer had bellowed in that tomb.

Luke remembers the brothers, mute and scared. Beel had fear in his eyes, but it was a fear he was used to with how often his brother had clashed with Lucifer.

He remembers you, stepping in the way, "What are you going to do Lucifer? Lock him away like you did Belphegor?"

And that is when Luke wished Simeon had been there to offer guidance. It was never the angels, with pure robes and smooth skin, feathered wings, coming down from the clouds with a halo of light about them blowing trumpets declaring war. It was a human saying a few spiteful words that divided the brothers and ultimately allowed the demons to become something that should have been angel-exclusive: pure.

I should never have come here, Luke believes as he stares at Lucifer, a fallen angel with dark corrupted wings, horns, and claws. An aberration in His idea of an angel. An aberration who refused Him. Pure corruption.

Luke ends up at the same thought: if I hadn't gone to you and sought safety with you, would that have kept you alive? Would it have kept the world Father loved so much alive?

----

Luke wakes up to soft murmurs, feels Lucifer's mouth moving against his hair, "Stay here with me love. Stay with me."

It's dark. Luke can't see anything but he can feel the rumble of Lucifer's voice in his chest and is lulled back into a sleep by it.

---

"How could you do that to your own brother?!"

For once Mammon was welcome to talk, welcome to voice what was on everyone's minds.

Luke remembers the way Beelzebub had seemed hollow then, empty when he said "I trusted you."

It's then that the split occurs, that the idea of family splits exactly like it's pronunciation. The first half (Levi, Mammon, and Beelzebub) are against Lucifer. They have one idea in mind that leads them to rebelling against Lucifer, and Diavolo. The last half do something unforgivable, they (Asmo, Satan) side with Lucifer, knowing his power as the eldest and right hand of the Devildom Prince. The second half, the one directly in the middle, Is Lucifer.

He has an oath, a responsibility to withhold to protect Lilith, to protect his brothers. You of course, had sided against Lucifer. You and him had always been neutral, but you bordered a hindrance, even if he was fond of you.

Luke remembers you siding with Mammon, you two forever by each other's side. You two were always more than a human and a demon with a pact.

Luke wonders the unspoken question: what ever happened to Lucifer's brothers?

---

Luke is woken up by Lucifer calling his name.

“You’ve slept long enough.”

Lucifer is getting ready, he's sitting on the side of the bed, his back to Luke as he buttons down his white collared shirt. Luke stares at Lucifer's back, the shoulder blades where wings should have been. Luke feels his wings on his back, right on his shoulder blades and the bigger ones below it.

Lucifer finishes buttoning his shirt and turns around to look at Luke, "Well good morning angel."

His stubble is gone and it makes him look cleaner, less beaten down.

"Do I have to go with you today?"

Lucifer shifts his body so Luke, still lying chest down on the bed, has his full attention. "I'd prefer it, yes. The House has demons visiting currently and are helping our King Diavolo prepare for the summit. The Tribunal will also be holding council."

Luke doesn't want to go. He has no problem with the demons, he's learned that no matter where he goes he will never be free of them but it's the Tribunal that scares him. He doesn't want Solomon, Simeon, or Michael to see him like this.

Lucifer reaches out for the collar around Luke's neck. "I'll take it off temporarily for the Tribunal love."

Lucifer's eyes look sad then, and Luke doesn't know why: Does he want to keep the collar on or does he know something about the Tribunal Luke doesn't?

"I know you don't want to come angel but the Tribunal is making a decision today and it affects you too."

Luke nods and starts to get up. He lets out a yawn and stretches. Lucifer takes the chance to cup Lukes face and place a kiss on his neck. Luke blushes and covers his face with his hands, hiding behind them.

Lucifer wants to remember Luke like this. This older Luke, that's taller, leaner, and with less fat on his face. This Luke with the short blonde hair that's so soft, absolute heaven to touch, with his angel wings behind him, pure white.

Lucifer wants it to be like this, just him making Luke blush with no one else around, no problems.

It's unrealistic and wrong to dwell in the past. Nothing can change it. Lucifer sees no problem with wishing for a moment to last forever.

[yesifitswithyou]

Now that you're Gone | Critical Role

kudos to @hellomehlo for inspiring a brainrot that led to this fanfic only with a gif of Imogen/Laura clapping at Laudna surviving the plant monster. so, yes: did is an Imodna fic. lots of angst and corruption ahead

also available on AO3 !!

-

Summary:

[ Takes place during and after the fight with the plant monster creature ]

Laudna is not able to escape the body of the creature; and when it goes down, Imogen doesn't want to believe that Laudna's gone.

-

It happened in slow motion for Imogen. It was both too fast and too slow. She was petrified as she saw the creature bite into Laudna and swallow her whole. The strange plant monster was pulling her into its gullet and there was nothing Imogen could do at that very moment. Her mind was racing, yelling at her to do something to save her, but her body didn’t seem to get the message. She froze right there and then. She was both extremely focused on the moment and with her mind elsewhere, far away from that forest. She didn’t know what to do. As if everything she knew, every spell or cantrip, went out the window, not even basic mobility registering in her brain.

She then sees a light burn inside the creature as it bursts into dark energy and flame momentarily as the last bits of corpse-like body disappear inside. She’s still unable to move, unable to think.

Laudna, Laudna, Laudna.

Her own body and mind kept repeating as if it was her own heartbeat. She felt anger and fear and uncertainty. Her distress increased as FCG’s blade was unable to cut through to get her out of it. Her heartbeat fastened when Ashton failed to release Laudna by hitting the monster non-stop.

She felt weak.

She’s gonna be ok. She can’t die. She’ll get out of there. Her mind kept repeating, hoping.

“C’mon Laudna…” She whispers to herself, hoping the undead woman gets out of there. Hoping she’s ok. Hoping she’s still alive.

The minutes pass by, too slow and too fast all at once. The plant monster didn’t attempt to bite and swallow another member of the party, but Imogen was not sure how to feel about it. Maybe that meant Laudna was still in there, alive. She wanted to hope for the best. She could still be alive. She had to be alive.

But the anxiety kept increasing.

Imogen flinched at the sound of a saw blade cutting through the creature’s roots and its scream as it fell. She sees as Fresh Cut Grass stands on the other side of the agonizing monster as a thud, almost a crash, resonates in the woods. When the screeching ceases, she’s unsettled by the strange, absolute silence.

No talking. No thoughts. No music. Nothing. Absolute, deafening silence.

Panic starts to rise within herself as she realizes she can’t hear Laudna’s mind and her muscles seem to have a burst of energy and instantly move. Lightning threatened to sparkle on the surface of her skin.

Laudna, her mind keeps repeating as images of the plant monster swallowing her best friend over and over, as if she’s watching it happen again and again.

“Fire, fire. Fire”, she hears Ashton say. “Burn it, burn it all. I’m fucking done.”

“Wait!” Imogen interrupts them with the loudest scream her broken voice could strain out as she runs towards what remains of the creature. Hoping.

Hoping the undead woman was somewhere in there. Hoping she was still breathing. Hoping she could just hug her and beg her to never scare her like that ever again. Hoping she was still alive. Hoping she didn’t leave her.

“Laudna?! Please, please be in there.” She rips apart and throws whatever vine or stem was in the way, desperately looking for the boney woman, her breath quick and heartbeat strong.

The rest of the party immediately realized what was going on: she was hoping she was still there. Most of them had already settled with the idea that the creature had taken her, and it was heartbreaking to see the lilac-haired lady hanging onto the fantasy of finding her.

They knew: Laudna was gone; but none of them had the heart to tell that to Imogen, who kept digging her nails into what remained of the monster as new vines seemed to be trying to grow again. Watching the latter, Fearne and Chetney started burning the new-grown bits, trying to stay out of Imogen’s way.

She’s not in there. Imogen gets to hear. She was so desperate, so worried, that her walls were weak and fragile. Not only did she have a growing pain forming on her chest, fueled by fear and desperation, but the piercing thought was making the whole thing a hell of a lot worse.

She won’t find her.

Laudna’s… gone…

Poor Imogen.

Should we say something?

The thoughts flooded her mind, tightening her throat and itching her eyes as tears started to form and lightning crackled under her skin.

NO! She thinks loudly, shutting down everyone else’s minds and thoughts.

With her mind silent, a little more at ease, she starts looking around with what remaining hope she still had close to her heart. She almost cracks her neck at the strength and speed of her movements. She doesn’t find a body, but she does see red thread and a bird skull a couple of feet away. Not willing to move away from where she stood, she used her telekinesis to attract it. Soon having Pâté in her hands, fear rises in her chest, and pressure that hurts falls on her shoulders.

She then uses her last resource and stops her frenetic movement to close her eyes in concentration. She attempts to find her mind, the rest of the Hells watching as an aura of energy and magic surrounds her faintly, a frown on her face and eyes moving under the eyelids. A teardrop evaporated from her cheek. She concentrates on finding Laudna’s mind. Laudna’s music. Laudna’s comfort. Anything that would tell her she’s still alive, that she’s still somewhere out there. That she’s still with her.

Her walls still up blocking everyone else’s minds making it harder to fully concentrate on looking for her, but she still has to try. She has to be there. She refuses to accept the obvious outcome like the others already did, but the deafening silence makes her interior shiver in fear. She wasn’t willing to give up. She wasn’t going to give up on her. Not now, not ever.

Her concentration is broken by delicate contact. She opens her eyes and turns around to see her fey friend next to her. When did she get there? Fearne had put a hand on her shoulder as a sign of support and looked at her with broken eyes.

“I’m sorry”, Imogen barely listens to the whisper that came out of Fearne’s mouth when her thoughts were so loud.

She’s not there.

No, no. She has to be there. She can’t be gone. She can’t-

The sight of Fearne’s crystal eyes brought her back to reality from whatever dream she was hanging onto. Realization and acknowledgment hit her like lightning, as heavy as an avalanche falling onto her. She feels her knees going weak and clings Pâté to her chest like a lifeline. Imogen shakes her head in denial as she feels the tingle of magic heating up inside of her and her hair filling with static. Her eyes start flashing white when Fearne speaks again, attempting a soft voice.

“She’s gone, Imogen… I’m so sorry.”

Everyone was thinking the same thing, and Imogen had listened to them, but hearing it out loud made her knees bend and her body drops to the ground, almost lifeless. Her chest hurt and her throat turned apart in a loud, high-pitched scream as tears accumulated in her flashing eyes.

She broke, a pain like no other invading her whole being.

A wave of lightning, purple magic blasts out of her like a bomb of energy. Of electricity. Of pain. The wave hits every member of the party, who take cover instinctively at the sudden light, pushing them feet away from her. Lightning travels past the Hells towards the nearby vegetation, burning everything it touched and incinerating the remains of the creature.

Dry tears and loud sobs fill the air for the next seconds, maybe minutes. No one dares to break the silence, wanting to give Imogen that time and space they know she needs, worried that the wrong words will make it worse for her.

Her mind was rushing.

She had failed to protect her. She had failed and it hurt so much that she couldn’t do anything to help her. Her mind kept yelling at her for freezing, for just watching as Laudna was being eaten alive. For not doing enough to keep her safe.

She had always wondered, ever since the nightmares and the telepathic powers started, what it would be like to have silence again, no thoughts but her own inside her head. This silence, though… This is not what she wanted. She hated the kind of silence that Laudna’s absence left even more than the constant buzzing that came with the unbearable headaches. She got so used to her music that it never crossed her mind that one day it could just be… gone.

She hates it.

She wants her music to play again. She wants her cold limps to hold onto her again. She wants to lock eyes with her, to get lost in them. She wants to intertwine hands with her again. She wants to see her smile, to hear her laugh. She wants her to crawl out of the pieces left of that monster and say that she’s okay, that it’ll all be okay. She wants to yell at her for scaring her like that and make her promise never, ever, do that again. She wants to look her in the eyes and confess what she’s known for a while now.

But she can’t. Not anymore. It’s too late for that.

She was never brave enough to just start that conversation.

She presses Pâté against her chest and between her glowing hands, clinging onto him as if holding him close enough would make her appear next to her, as if it could bring her back. As if it could make the pain go away.

A rush of memories fills her mind, fueling the tears that run down her cheeks and fall to the floor. The fact that the dead rat with a raven skull in her hands is the last thing left of her crushes Imogen even more, not being able to at least attempt to bring her back. She thinks of how cheerful she is- she was. How she wouldn’t let the horrible things that had happened to her —her death, the isolation, the fear, the solitude— take away whatever life was left in her, whatever happiness she could still feel.

Happiness.

Imogen wondered if the pain, the consuming black hole growing inside of her, would ever go away. She wondered if she could ever feel as comfortable, as belonging, as happy as she was with Laudna. Maybe in a couple of years, maybe she couldn’t. She didn’t think this type of pain would ever go away.

A faint purple light coming from her pouch catches her peripheral.

And then, she felt nothing. The tears stopped. The sobs died in her throat. The sadness evaporated in thin air. The pain took hold of her and the emptiness weighed on her, crushing her insides. She felt numb as her mind stopped rushing, the absence of even her own thoughts heavy, unbearable, and deafening.

Her first instinct was lowering her walls, needing to fill the silence with anything, preferring piercing buzzing thoughts over the silence and the emptiness and the numbness.

She felt everyone looking at her, their fear of breaking the silence and their sadness at the sight palpable. Everyone else’s feelings trying to fill her void.

Next thing she realized, she was standing up, Pâté still close to her chest in a death grip and her body moving on its own towards the camp.

She just wanted to get out of that place. Maybe- maybe if she left that jungle, it would all be better. Maybe if she ran, if she was far away- Maybe there was something she could do to-

No. Stop it. There’s nothing to be done. You have a mission to complete.

Her body stilled right then and there. She didn’t dare to look back as she was talking to the rest of the party.

“We should leave. It’s not safe here.” Her voice came out as lifeless as she felt. Too calm and too stony for someone who felt broken.

Movement began to sound behind her as she was walking away. Slowly. Steady. Grass and branches cracking under everybody’s feet, the smell of burnt vines filling the air, and incomprehensible whispers being shared. It didn’t seem like any of the Hells were following her, maybe occupying themselves with whatever was left of the creature.

Soon enough, she was next to the fireplace and all of their stuff. She let out a breath, a bit of relief that she wasn’t next to that thing anymore. One last, lonely tear went down her left cheek.

Mimicking the way Laudna did, she secured Pâté on her own belt, red threads hanging from him. She approached hers and Laudna’s bags before walking to a dark area next to the improvised camp they had made. She took a thick branch and stuck it in the ground, hanging Laudna’s bag on it. She leaned in close, closing her eyes. Her voice lower than a whisper.

“I’m so sorry.”

She remained still for a couple of seconds before standing up again and walking towards Heart.

She took her horse’s face in her hands and caressed her trying to smile, just a grimace being able to show through her dull eyes, and connected their foreheads together, trying to ground herself back to the present and keep her mind from wandering through memories and memories and memories and memories-

When she was about to get on Heart, a soft whinny called her attention, her sight crossing with Escargot’s, Laudna’s horse.

It was as if she was calling her through him, a pressure making its way through her chest and a cold breeze caressing her skin. So, as if on command, she approached the black horse instead, getting comfortable on the saddle while waiting for the others to get on their horses, Orym riding Heart instead.

Soon enough the party starts going down the path, sleep not feeling like an option anymore even though the sun wasn’t close to rising. The ride was silent, only the sounds of creatures within the woods and the wind in their ears keeping them company. Ashton took the lead, scanning the darkness in front of them, Chetney right behind him. Orym was third, dragging FCG behind him and staring back at Imogen every once in a while. Fearne was a couple of feet behind FCG, humming a soothing song to herself, being loud enough for it to fade with the background noise.

Fearne, Orym, and FCG seemed to exchange a couple of looks and tried to stay back a couple of times to get to Imogen. Make her company, maybe offering a bit of support or a shoulder to cry on, but it felt useless to even try. Maybe what was best right now was for them to let her feel it, whatever she was feeling. To process what had happened. Maybe she would approach them about this on her own.

Imogen stayed behind them, almost out of sight of Ashton and Chetney, as if blending with the darkness around them.

She was being consumed by her own thoughts. They felt louder by the second, drowning everyone else’s minds piercing into her own. Still, the numbness and emptiness filled her, getting a hold of her soul and refusing to leave. Her eyes were glued on Pâté, who was swinging on her belt due to Escargot’s pace, almost like a pendulum, only looking up to not be left behind. Sometimes she would catch Orym, Fearne, or FCG looking at her, immediately breaking eye contact like a toddle being caught doing something they weren’t supposed to. She wouldn’t react to this, her face remaining emotionless and calm.

Once she was certain none of them were looking, and sensing they wouldn’t do it again anytime soon, she dared to reach out to her pouch. She took the diamond box she knew the purple rock was in and opened it.

A faint purple light was looking back at her, letting her see every detail of the possibly dangerous rock even in the darkness of her surroundings. Her instincts kicked in and she saw herself taking it in her hand- her blue hand?

Huh, that’s new.

Pushing the odd coloration of her skin aside, she turned her focus back to the rock. The dark navy blue contrasting with the bright purple was beautiful, to say the least. It was enchanting. The cold rock felt comforting in her grasp as it seemed to be trying to reach out to her, tempting. She again lifts her head to make sure none of the others were looking her way, mistrusting.

She looks back at the stone with intensity, trying to figure out why it had glowed moments before and why it was trying to communicate with her, why it feels so right but so wrong all at the same time.

She exhales as if giving up, and lets her mind wander back to Laudna.

When they first met, Imogen didn’t know it at the time, but her world shifted in ways she hadn’t imagined. She felt happier, she felt better than she had ever felt back home. But now, she felt lost and tired. Tired of everything and everyone. Tired of her mistakes and her hope. Tired of the anxiety, of being afraid. Tired of running and tired of trying so hard to keep her powers under control.

Lately, she has thought more and more about letting it loose, about giving in, about not worrying too much, and letting her powers, and herself, live. After all, what could be worse than losing her? What could even go wrong?

She could just set herself free of everything.

She looks back down at the gnarlrock. Maybe it can be of help.

Maybe if she stops searching for answers, she could finally stop thinking about it and start doing something about it. She could stop getting heartbroken every time she hits a dead end. She could stop worrying so much, caring so much

She just wants peace.

She closes her eyes briefly as she tries to open up her mind toward the rock, connect with it far beyond the first time. Trying to uncover its mysteries, its secrets. Once again, she feels her essence almost going into the stone itself, it won’t let her go.

Good. She’s not backing away. Not this time.

She feels herself almost being consumed by the stone and, at the same time, herself consuming it back. She feels her grip on the reins and on the stone tighten as electricity flares under her skin and a warm feeling of strength fills her. The emptiness she hadn’t stopped feeling, the numbness, intensified; but were soon replaced by rage, anger, wrath. The intoxicating feeling fuels her veins as her heartbeats kick slightly faster and her lightning scars light up slightly.

It felt like a different kind of power. One that consumes everything on its way like wildfire. One that replaces any submission and fear. One that numbs the pain.

She had never felt so angry before. It fueled every inch of her system. Anger towards the whole world. Anger against the Hells. Anger against herself. She suddenly understood Ashton’s constant anger. Her eyes flash white for a couple of seconds. The scars grow bigger past her elbows, burning. Her hair changes to a darker, intense purple. It was painful, but as soon as the scars stopped burning her skin, relief floods her.

She feels numbness, emptiness, and anger; but she also feels a strange amount of peace. An unusual peace only comparable to the eye of a storm. Peace within the chaos reigning the rest of her being. Almost comforting.

She grins to herself, all teeth showing as the first signs of sunlight caress the horizon, as she tastes the feeling of letting go of the strict control she forced herself into.

Maybe the voice in the back of her head telling her to get rid of everything and everyone who got in her way was a good thing. Maybe standing up for herself and not caring to look back at the consequences was a good thing. So, with this new confidence, this new strength, this darkness throughout her entire being, she puts the stone back in her pouch and signals Escargot to go faster so they would catch up with the group.