#literally the mind wipe

[cinderedrose]

Okay here's day 7 for @kotor-week week. I have no idea what freeform means so I did whatever I want. Here's the first chapter/scene to my novelization and its under a cut because its uh.. intense and the ✨️Mind Wipe✨️:

“mommy! Mom! Come back mom!” Cried a strained voice. It rasped with utmost desperation, of life and death, of fear and cold absent comfort. Despite the mask over their mouth and nose, they still screeched for mom and dad through the silicone. Even with the sterile, bitter gas clogging their senses and seeping the force away from them…

Buir— mom— the languages blurred and mixed. The hyperglot voice cycled again and again, each language crying for the same person.

*Mom! Come back mom I'm scared!*

The owner of the voice thrashed and pulled against their restraints, fabric and cords dug into their wrists. However their efforts and strength rose to no avail. Their energy and strength seeped from them. 

The grey and white of their sterile, fluorescent prison walls warped and bled into each other. The victim was powerless, and the sickening sourness of their estranged heart rotted inside their chest. The victim already felt the diseased flies swarming it. Their scorched skull strangled their thoughts, their trepidation and terror played puppeteer for the rasped, sore, enslaved vocal cords. 

“Mom help me!” that voice shrieked. Shadows enclosed around them. Their blood crackled and raged with a static-electric hum. The victim clung to that feeling within their veins— their nerves— their very cerebellum. Yet another cog in their living machine. Something they've always lived with, something they should know better than their own name—

But their name was gone, and this feeling--- the force--- was slowly pushed away with it.

The victim looked over the mask over their lower face, the failing sedatives dried out their mouth, working just enough to blur their vision. The man before them was a purple smudge, he pulled against that feeling. The victim drew upon it before the man stripped it, before he carved their heart out of their chest, as they thrashed once again and screamed. Their wrists now bloody and sore. Their lungs spasmed in a coughing fit.

“Brace yourself, Eevie, there’s one more round to go,” the man said in a faux soothing tone. Their breathing only quickened, that name wasn’t theirs anymore, was it? 

*Why am I blank!?*

*I'M MORE!! WHERE—*

*WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME—*

The steady beat of their heart monitor quickened as two devices clamped the sides of their head. Their chest heaved, Eevie gasped for what little air they got through their efforts. The sedatives failed, their blood erupted into an electrifying storm as their skull was locked in place. 

“Three, two, one, clear!” 

White. Their vision went white. Electric, searing, excruciating pain scraping the insides of their skull. Their broken thoughts scattered, as memories played, then evanced within their consciousness. Forgotten. Just like that previously clashing, incorrect, painful name. Just like that feeling. Just like… everything… forgotten glory. *What glory?* 

*Mandalore! Slain—*

*Victory—*

*Prodigal—*

*St— for—*

“Mom! Mom help me!” The victim shrieked before any coherent noise drowned in an incoherent and disjointed howling as their mind rose and fell and exploded yet imploded. Thought bled down to the faint, dying, electrical zaps between neurons before extinguishing altogether like an overloaded light. That feeling, that sixth sense, that single grounding thing? Shattered with that broken light bulb. That slaughtered electrocuted brilliance.

“I’m so sorry it came to this, Eevie,” the soft-sounding man from earlier croaked out. They calmed, shifting slightly, adjusting their swollen tongue in their mouth. But who am I who am… tired… The victim's limbs were stuck to the bed, too heavy to move now. “I’m sorry we failed you…” 

“Don’t call them that anymore,” someone else barks, their voice mixing with the cacophony of dying electricity and medical equipment, “that name no longer exists.” 

The IV in their arm pinched, the nameless victim shivered from the chilled room of erasure. A twi’lek stood over them, with pity and sorrow in his eyes. Then, another man, dressed in pale blue, hovered on their other side, taking their vitals. Yet another prison, but there was no hope to escape.

“mom…” Their mother never comes, but the tool doesn’t care. That fear faded with their very being, as the tool became nothing more than a shell. They couldn’t recall knowing their parents anymore. Not that it mattered. Their mind fades to an expanse of white. Blank, as they forget who they are… what they are… The victim goes quiet, closing their eyes, mourning something they never recalled knowing.

“Rest well, Renier,” the soothing man said, his voice crumbling to pieces.

~

[anbaisai]

Mayu's feelings regarding Jamil's OB look is a mix of "that goatee looks awful" and "those snakes are adorable"

[bbuzz28]

Memories

Old man Fiddlestan, my beloved-and what's this? It could be semi-canon compliant :O ?!?! Woof- this is one of the saddest things I have ever written. I know some of you gremlins (affectionate) love that sort of thing, but I don't. I like really really don't. This is my comfort ship, so I don't even know where this came from other than trying to figure out how they *could* work in canon. Truthfully though, I prefer my Fiddlestan heavy on the comfort when it comes to the "hurt/comfort" genre. This is my only “angsty” (i.e. no immediate happy ending) Notes-app fics, so don't get used to this level of sad from me lol.

“Stan?” an oddly familiar voice called. Mr. Mystery, Stan Pines, glanced up from the flyers he was organizing and found that Old Man McGucket stood in the doorway of his front door. The last tour of the day had just left, it was dinnertime, and he was exhausted. Stan rolled his eyes as he unfurled his tie, wishing Soos was still there to escort the crazy old man off his property. No matter what he did, the old hillbilly always managed to find his way back to the Shack. “Sweet Moses McSuckit, what are you doing in here? Shoo, scat, or whateva will get rid of ya.” Hearing no movement, he looked at the man again and found he was standing erect. His blue eyes were the clearest he had seen them in no less than a decade.

          Wait, what did he call- oh. Oh no.

“Stan…ley? Did I…did I do somethin’ wrong?” the other man asked, his hands twisted in knots in front of him. Memories flashed through Stan’s mind; Ford falling through the portal, Fiddleford finding him passed out in the lab, working together to bring Ford home again…being together. Being happy. They had been happy, if just for a little while, hadn’t they?

Then there was the cult, and his discovery of the damn memory gun that had finally ruined everything they ever built. He took a hesitant step forward, a thousand thoughts roaring in his mind at once. “Fidds? Wha-what do you remember?” A bandaged hand snaked up and rubbed over the faded scar on the side of his head “I…don’t rightly know. Did we…I think we had a fight? I just woke up in the…in the dump. N’ I don’t have any shoes. Do ya know why my arm is in a cast?” Fiddleford looked so lost.

Stan knew in his heart that all of this was fleeting- “clarity” would hit Fiddleford every few years after he had finally wiped his mind of himself. Almost like his brain was trying to jumpstart itself back together. The first time they thought it was a miracle but…it didn’t last. It just started a trend that would follow them both for the next almost thirty years. Fiddleford would seemingly “wake up” and be lucid for a few weeks in the beginning, then eventually only a matter of days. It had been so long since the last time that Stan would wager, they only had maybe a few hours together if he was lucky.

The last time Fiddleford was himself…they had fought. Stanley thought he had figured the only way Fiddleford could stay; he needed to remember. Remember everything he had ever forgotten. At the time, Fiddleford had been unwilling to try. He didn’t think he could handle it; he knew he had forgotten what he had for a reason.

Stanley had gotten as close to begging as he ever had in his life since surviving Tijuanna, and when it had no effect…Stanley had told Fiddleford to leave and never come back. He had left that night, and by the next day he had faded away again. After a while, Stan thought his last words had been the final nail in the coffin that was Fiddleford’s mind. He carried that weight along with every other mistake he had ever made. But here he was. Fiddleford. His Fiddleford.

He took a deep breath before he opened his arms up. “Hey, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. I’m right here.” Fiddleford rushed through the doorway, melting into Stanley’s open arms. “I went away again, didn’t I?” Stan could feel Fiddleford’s tears soaking into his chest, his own whispering at the edges of his eyes. Yes, and you will leave again. You will leave me and I will be alone all over again, you fucking asshole. “Hey cowboy, didn’t I just say not t’ worry about any a’ that? You’re here now, n' that’s what matters. You’re…you’re home.” A haggard laugh vibrated through the smaller man’s chest into Stanley’s own. “I know I keep tellin’ ya, tellin’ me not t’ worry is like” “…tellin’ a fish t’ stop swimmin’; I know Fidds, I know.” Fuck was really the only conscious thought that went through his head as he held his one-time lover. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, again.

Fiddleford looked up, eyes wide and searching Stan’s face. “How long do ya think we have?” Stan shook his head, unwilling to lie even if it eventually wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t remember. You’ve always been the only person I couldn’t lie to. “I dunno, it’s been…a while. Probably not very long.” Fiddleford closed his eyes before he said “I need ya t’ know somethin’, Stanley.” Stan started to shake his head. “Fidds, you don’t have t-” The look on the other man’s face shut Stan right up-he had always had that ability. Stan wished he didn’t miss it as much as he did. “I need ya to know that even when I’m not here…I miss you. The part of me that’s somewhere in here-” A weathered hand tapped the side of his head to emphasize his point “ misses you. I’m just so sorry, Stanley. Sorry that I’m a coward. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to be here all the time…but I’ll never stop tryin’. I’ll always try n’ come home to ya.”

Stan thought of the thousands of times he had chased Old Man McGucket, the neat little character that Stan had to compartmentalize his Fiddleford into when he wasn’t himself, out of the Shack. How many times he had found him curled up like a cat on the back porch. How every time they “met”, McGucket would say how nice Stan was or how good he felt to be around him “for some reason.” How many odds and ends McGucket would gift Stan from the dump for exhibits at the Mystery Shack with a large smile and nothing substantial behind his eyes.

It would be so much easier if he would stop trying to come back. Maybe the hole in Stan’s heart the size of the sweet, certifiably insane man would scab over. How many times had Stanley mourned him? How many times was he willing to hurt himself? They were now nearing their sixties, how long was he really willing to do this song and dance?

What’s one more time? he softly thought, his hand coming up to tenderly cup the grizzled face of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Mad scientist, friend, and unfortunately for them both…the love of his life.

“I miss you too, Fidds.”

[nikomedes]

finally caught up on malevolent. jarthur nation how we doing

[anghraine]

It's wild to me that I had heard of the prime Kirk/Spock content in various TOS episodes long before I saw them, but had never heard of what IMO is the shippiest moment of all thus far, in an interestingly O_o goddamn I do not want whatever you two have but you do you?? holy shit though what a moment way.

I'm of course referring to the otherwise rather mid episode "Requiem for Methuselah," in which Kirk has an underwritten love affair with a clueless woman whose various secrets have to be discovered before her inevitable death.

At one point in this relationship, her.......uh, guardian??? sort of???????? had Spock play the piano while she and Kirk waltzed, which (in-story) Spock did perfectly while somehow managing to silently exude even more intensity than usual. After the plot (and her life) were over, we end not with the usual cheerful bit of snark on the bridge that ends most episodes, but with a weary Kirk falling asleep with his head on his arms and Spock hovering not for away. McCoy exposits the last bit of detail and then goes on an unprompted and honestly pretty viciously racist speech about how Spock, unlike Kirk, will never suffer from the joys and travails of love because of his inherent lack of feeling as a Vulcan. The speech is longer than usual and just really mean-spirited as McCoy waxes rhapsodic about all the aspects of passionate true love that Spock will not and cannot experience as a Vulcan before he just leaves.

Spock then turns to look at Kirk, and now just bleeding intensity, takes a few slow, deliberate steps towards the sleeping Kirk, lays his hand against Kirk's cheek and neck, and then very obviously mind melds with the sleeping Kirk while murmuring, "Forget."

Is this healthy respectful behavior that honors Kirk's autonomy? No, obviously. Is it god-tier repressed homoerotic passion between two people who should probably just work their issues out and stop inflicting themselves on anyone else? Yes.

[hootiee]

"mephisto pheles could've been a tumblr sexy man if blue exorcist was popular" <- doesn't know

[unriding]

kablam

[peppermint-whiskers]

Me writing chapter 22 of Mind Wipe act 1

[bigmfrat]

i want to see more terrible mindflayer OCs, but canon evil mindflayer ocs, not just some half baked "this is the bad guy i used in my dnd game, he uuuh, can enthrall you". I want to see Abysmal Creed Illithid! I want the tormentors and torturers without a shred of empathy and who only form bonds with others of their kind out of convenience! Enthrallment is so surface level! Illithid can be and are so much worse! I'm all for good illithid but BG3 has 1) given us no lore about them at all and has shown that no one knows jack shit about them, and 2) has woobiefied/watered down the FUCK out of their species. their society sucks and illithid are a product of that! Canonically they can be any alignment but tend to be evil due to their society. Illithid have a growing up phase of 20-21 years and learn from their environment just as we do! Im kinda getting bored of "illithid is a victim of their elderbrain" I want to see a squid that revels in agony all on their own!! 99% of people who have any concept of Illithid think they only eat brains! They don't! they eat the whole person, their favorite parts are the organs and they eat them raw and who knows if they even kill the guy first!!!! Make Some Evil Squid Bitches! Heres two of the most important sources of Illithid canon lore as free PDFs

[humanmorph]

"This is a message to you, who listens. You must trust me, because we are friends. You just don't know it yet. "

(The Road to PARTIZAN 05 : Ech0 & dusk to midnight)

currently halfway through PARTIZAN (making my way towards palisade extremely slowly. see u guys there in a month or two) & this is to date my favourite intro Austin has done. what an great introduction to an extremely cool character

[eliza-makepeace]

cheerful humming nothing-like-depressed-innkeeper-kote-anymore kvothe my beloved

[teakoodrawz]

" I'm a Psycho, loving it~ "

[alienfailboy]

do y'all remember when endgame said

"yeah the avengers left Thor to rot and become a alcoholic" ?

like yeah okay???? no?????? you mean to tell me bruce banner sacrificed his own autonomy to save Thor and his people and he didn't check on him ONCE after the death of his brother? after the death of Heimdall?? after the destruction of the refugee ship and desecration of half the universe, that Thor BLAMES HIMSELF FOR???? not bruce, not one avenger? not for FIVE YEARS????

yeah. okay. sounds fake but sure!

[fuel-for-the-fyre]

tfw you want to draw two characters kissing but one of them is an alligator. send tweet

[exoscreamsoda]

i know next season is supposed to be lestat focused (and im currently having a breakdown imagining him as a rockstar) but i would give ANYTHING to see a glimpse of how louis and armand were living in the current age before they invited their couple therapist. theres no way they figured out how to use the internet to its full potential. did rashid come over one day to set up their wifi and then ended up their little henchman. are their man snacks found on craigslist or something. armand said he didnt want daniel there so i can only imagine louis was annoying him 24/7 while he was trying to read on his kindle in peace 💀 the way louis is so adamant about getting this book made makes me think he was watching tv and one of those reality shows that covers old musicians came on and he saw lestat and started tweaking because no way did he think about old man dan's book out of no where

[hamable]

Need low stakes DLC Psychonauts 2 levels in, at this point, anyone’s mind. Fuck shit up and kick ass in the interns brains? Hell yeah. Otto? Sasha round 2? Milla round 2? ANY Aquato? I’d eat it up om nom nom. I’m begging. As a treat for me please.