#Bazel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spoonguy · 3 days ago

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Imaginary Friend

Pairing: Childhood Imaginary Friend x Gender Neutral Reader

Synopsis: You reconnect with your imaginary friend after moving back to you childhood home. They aren't willing to let you go again.

Work count: 3.0k

Content Warnings: Yandere themes, claustrophobia, death, near-death experiences, sleep paralysis

While you had made the drive back to your old family home more times than you could count, you felt especially exhausted. You barely had enough energy left in you to throw your bags down in your childhood bedroom and collapse onto the old mattress, not even bothering to remove your shoes. You were out cold before you registered the shadowy figure in the back of your closet.

Sometime around 3 am, you awoke to the sound of labored breathing. You panicked when you realized you were unable to move, locked inside your own body. From the corner of your eye, you watched helplessly as an ominous humanoid figure approached your bedside. It drew closer, its very presence dropping the temperature of the air surrounding it. You could only watch helplessly as its face split open to reveal row upon row of razor-sharp teeth drawn upwards into a sinister smile.

“Starlight?”

A familiar voice called out through the darkness. The mention of your childhood nickname opened the floodgates to years of repressed memories.

“Bazel?” you asked incredulously.

“You—you came back for me! I thought you were gone forever. It was so quiet in the house after the accident, and you left, and I—” Their voice cracked, full of emotion and vulnerability,

“Bazel!” You willed your body into mobility again and wrapped your arms around their waist in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come back sooner.”

“No, no, Starlight, I could never be upset with you! I’m sorry I snuck up on you.”

You were still breathing heavily and your heart was racing, but you still managed to laugh. Even after all these years, their personality hadn’t changed one bit. Still the same goofy, overprotective imaginary demon friend from your childhood.

Their appearance, however, was way different than you remembered. They were much taller and lankier. They had always had at least a couple of inches on you, but now they dwarfed you in height. Their skin was dark gray, almost pitch black, and cool to the touch. A smattering of softly glowing white freckles dotted their cheeks and nose, and their fluffy black hair fell in messy bangs framing their face. Their horns, which used to be blunt nubs hidden under their loose curls, were now as long as your hand and swept back over their head like a goat’s.

“You changed! You look so different,” you exclaimed, finally.

“Me? You’re an adult!” They scooted closer to you on the bed to straddle your lap and pinched your cheek affectionately.

“You say that like you're not!”

“No, silly, I’ve got at least another millennium until I’m fully grown. You humans have such strange ways of thinking. Anyways, tell me everything!” They giggled and grabbed your shoulders, pulling you off the bed with them and sending the both of you into a sprawling heap on the floor.

And all of a sudden, it was like you were back there, you and Bazel curled up in a blanket fort long past the witching hour, swapping your deepest secrets, pinkies interlocked as you crossed your hearts and hoped to die, stuck a needle in your eye that you would never tell.

You had laid out the blankets, for old time's sake, and gathered every pillow and plush into a pile on your bedroom floor. You lay side by side, staring up at faintly glowing stick-on stars on your popcorn ceiling. Bazel grabbed your hand, and you let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding as their fingers interlaced with yours.

But this time, you found no pleasure in bearing your soul to your childhood friend. Instead of detailing playground drama, you were recounting the accident, the faulty carbon monoxide detector, the day you woke up in the hospital clinging to life by a thread, cheeks flushed cherry red and starved of oxygen, mumbling nonsense about almost making it through the woods. The way your parents had fled the house, so terrified that their only child was so close to death.

By the time you had relayed it all, you felt hollow and had run out of tears to cry. Silent, tearless sobs wracked your body, and you put up no resistance as Bazel wrapped you in their arms and gently nudged your head into the crook of your neck.

“I'm so sorry, Starlight,” they finally spoke, voice barely audible.

“It's not your fault…” you sniffled, hugging them tighter.

“I should have protected you. I promise, Starlight, I'll never let anything take you away from me ever again.”

They rubbed your back as you drifted off into unconsciousness, falling deep into a dreamless sleep.

When you awoke, Bazel was gone. You couldn't be sure they were even there in the first place. While it was the first time you had thought about them since visits with the numerous psychiatrists you had bounced between as an early teenager. The more you woke up, the less and less you could remember Bazel. The memory unraveled like a sweater when you started to pull at it. By the time you had sat down for breakfast, you had convinced yourself that it was all just a dream. And your spine was completely jacked. Last time you slept on the floor, you promised yourself. That kind of thing only flies when you're a kid.

It was true that you had an imaginary friend, though, as a child. Bazel, the monster in your closet turned best friend. But your parents weren’t as big of a fan of Bazel as you were. While parenting magazines and informational guides had prepared them for you wanting to save your imaginary friend a seat at the dinner table, the way you spoke about Bazel was troubling.

It had started off mostly harmless, you telling them about the strange child who lived in the closet and came from the shadow realm. They started to become more skeptical, however, when you began blaming Bazel for knocking things over around the house. They had reassured you that it was okay; you wouldn’t be in trouble; they just wanted you to know that you shouldn’t spend the whole night on the floor or grab things from shelves higher than you. No matter how much they promised they wouldn’t be mad, the excuses continued to escalate. Candles were left burning, broken glass would end up covering the bathroom floor, but the final straw was when they found you seated in the kitchen, unharmed, but surrounded by the contents of the overturned knife block.

“Oh! Sweetheart, are you—No! Don’t move; I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Hang on, I got you.”

“Bazel said it was okay!” You giggled, unfazed by the cutlery surrounding you.

“Oh no, no, sweetie, Bazel’s not real. Let’s, uh, go for a walk to the park! Does that sound okay?”

You had always had a healthy sense of imagination, but as you grew older, your parents grew concerned with the possibility of maladaptive daydreaming. One consult visit with a child psychologist turned into two, then a weekly occurrence. You hated the oppressive atmosphere of the office, the way the adults talked past you as if you weren’t even there, the pitying, self-righteous way the psychologist asked whether your friend was in the room with you. Of course they weren’t. Bazel lived under your bed.

This was a frequent topic when you vented to Bazel late into the night. They shared their own worries too, but they seemed genuinely upset when you recounted the way your therapists and doctors tried to convince you that they were just a coping mechanism for your lacking social life.

After months went by, you finally caved. You gave in to the advice provided by your care team. You expanded your social circle, actively sought out more friends, and let your parents enroll you in countless after-school clubs and extracurricular activities. Around this time, your nighttime conversations with Bazel grew less frequent. They appeared on the darkest nights, when rolling thunder shook the house, but most days you were tired enough to sleep through the night.

Your parents were ecstatic with your progress. They hated to admit it, but the way you spoke about Bazel had started to scare them. They rejoiced every time you asked for a ride to see your new friends. They were over the moon when you asked for permission to have a friend or two over to hang out. Of course they accepted, and you raced to school the next day to let them know that your plans for the weekend had been approved.

That night you had curled up in bed and were just on the verge of unconsciousness when you thought you saw a shadowy figure standing in your open doorway. You blinked, and it vanished. Convincing yourself that it was just a trick of the light, you drew your comforter closer around you and settled in again. When you rolled over, you came face to face with Bazel, lying right next to you.

“Bazel! Where were you? I missed you.”

“You've been avoiding me!” Their tone was indignant and extremely jarring after you hadn’t spoken to them in so long.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been trying to visit you every night for the past month. You won’t let me in.

“I’m sorry, I really have no idea what you are talking about.” You were on the verge of tears, unable to understand why your friend was so upset with you.

Seeing you so genuinely confused made their heart melt. You clearly weren’t trying to avoid them, and they missed you so badly, so the only thing they could do was wrap you in a tight hug and sob silently with you until you were both calm.

“Do you not love me anymore?” They finally asked.

“Of course I love you, Bazel. You’re my best friend.”

“I love you too, Starlight. Forever and always.”

“I’m sorry, Bazel. I don’t know what happened. I was waiting for you; I tried. But I was so tired from school, therapy, and appointments; it’s all so much.”

“Therapy?”

“Yeah, I go see counselors and doctors and stuff. We just talked for an hour. It’s kind of exhausting.”

“What do you talk about?”

“Well, life, school, friends. We talked a lot about you at first, but I didn’t like to argue with them. They keep trying to tell me you aren’t real.”

Bazel froze. When they finally spoke, their voice was cold and measured.

“Starlight, what exactly do you mean by that?”

“They keep trying to convince me that you’re just a figment of my imagination. That you aren’t real, and you’re hurting my development.”

“You know I’m real, though, right?” they asked cautiously.

“Of course, you’re sitting right here in front of me.”

“And you know I would do anything to protect you?”

“That’s what best friends do. I would do the same for you.”

“Do you want a break from it?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don't you come to my world? Come with me. You'll never have to worry ever again.” Bazel reached out a hand, which you clasped. “It'll be just the two of us, forever.”

While you had ostensibly returned to your old house to fix it up and sell it, you weren't getting too much actual cleaning done. You had wasted most of an afternoon, and well into the evening, excavating the contents of your closet. Some minor sorting had gotten done, and a few boxes of clothes had been put aside to drop at Goodwill, but for the most part, you were just exploring the myriad of toys and knickknacks squirreled away in the back. You yawned and started to stand up when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

You nodded and followed them as they opened the door to your closet, transfigured into a dark tunnel, lined with jagged branches.

“Looking for something?”

“Nothing in particular. You, I suppose.”

“Well, you found me. You always do.”

“I can't believe I had so much stuff.”

“You'll get through it; you've got all the time in the world.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“Hey, tell me something.”

“Mhm?”

“The psychologists, did they really make you forget about me?”

Your silence was more than enough of an answer for Bazel. Their face fell.

“I never forgot about you,” they finally whispered.

“I truly am sorry.”

“You came back through; there must have been some part of you that knew I was still here.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I always am.”

“Hey, tell you what. I’m not going to make any meaningful progress on this tonight, so let me call it quits, and we can stay up late. I think I remember where the blankets are.”

Bazel beamed from ear to pointed ear. Any trace of anger dissipated from their face, and they pulled you into a warm hug, nuzzling their nose against yours.

The blanket fort you constructed was truly impressive. It spanned most of the dining room and was filled to the brim with all sorts of pillows and stuffed animals. You had lit dozens of candles, the small flames illuminating the fabric walls. You and Bazel were currently curled up inside, their head resting on your lap, and you ran your fingers through their wavy black hair. Absent-mindedly, your fingers drifted to their pointed horns, and you began to wonder exactly what kind of creature they were.

“Bazel, you said you were a demon. Did you mean that figuratively, or…?

“I suppose that is what you humans call us. We live in the shadows and eat souls.”

“You eat people?”

“Of course not, just siphon life force. A little at a time. Humans eat animals. I don’t feel my way is particularly gruesome.”

“Have you eaten my soul?”

“What? No, I don’t feed off you. You’re too full of light and life. You’re far better as a friend than food.”

“But you tried. The first night I came back.”

“To be fair, I didn’t realize it was you at first. You looked so different. I almost couldn’t help myself.”

“What do you do instead?”

“I eat your dreams.”

“What?”

“You ever wake up from a dream and can’t remember anything about it, but know it was there? I ate it. You have very nice dreams, full of creativity and life.”

You were silent for a long while.

“Is that why you stay?” you finally asked.

“Of course not, I enjoy your company. I get lonely in the dark. You’ve always been the one bright spot in my life. My little Starlight.”

They reached one finger up to your face and playfully booped your nose, giggling. Their glowing white freckles seemed to flicker gently, their pitch-black eyes reflecting the warm candlelight.

The woods were exactly the same as you remembered them. A dark forest threatening to swallow up the tiny path. Gnarly branches, black as tar oil and covered with thorns, pulled at your clothes and scratched your face. Bazel pulled you closer to them, shielding you from their grasp.

You smiled, allowing yourself to relax. You missed the way that you and Bazel used to pass the nights. You longed to forget your responsibilities, your worries, to fall asleep in the arms of your closest friend. So you did.

“It’s alright, Starlight, I won’t let them take you away from me.”

You trudged on, screwing your eyes shut and letting Bazel guide you through the thicket. You were older now, taller, and it was harder to make it through the passage than last time. The air was bitter cold, and the wind shrieked all around you. When you felt their grip on your hand start to loosen, you cried out and grabbed for their wrist, holding on like your life depended on it.

After what felt like an eternity, Bazel took you by the hand and pulled you away from the last of the wild trees. You opened your eyes to see them checking you all over for signs of injury. Aside from a few light scratches, you had escaped mostly unscathed.

“You made it,” Bazel’s voice was almost incredulous.

They were right to be worried. The last time you were here, you hadn’t. A sound, a familiar voice, a trick of the woods, had startled you, and you had slipped from their grasp. They had turned, but too late, and could only watch as your face disappeared behind layers of thorns and black bark.

You hugged them, standing for what could have been minutes or hours in silence, your face nestled against their chest.

“Starlight, you made it. We made it.,” they repeated. “I can’t believe it. Thank you. I’m so proud of you.”

You were a little confused; after all, it was them who had done all the work, guiding you through the claustrophobic woods, but you stayed in their embrace. It felt nice to have them offer such unconditional praise. You couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy it.

Finally, they released you, only to grasp both of your hands and stare deep into your eyes. An exuberant smile was forming on their face, wider than you had ever seen before, and they looked expectantly at you.

“We finally made it, Starlight.”

“Made it where?” you asked, still confused.

“We crossed the veil; we made it to my realm. Like I promised you all those years ago. But we did it this time.”

Their enthusiasm was too infectious; you couldn’t help smiling, even if you didn’t understand completely.

“Nothing will ever take you away from me again. I’ll make sure of it. I can’t believe it. I love you, Starlight," they were rambling at this point, too caught up in their emotions to notice.

They let go of only one of your hands and turned to face the open expanse of void on the other side of the woods.

“Now where do we go?” you asked, voice trailing off into silence, tinged with fear.

“Anywhere you desire, Starlight. As long as we’re together.”

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undyingmedium · 1 year ago

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Who is Anika's patron? What are they like? What is their relationship like?

Straight to the point, are you not? There's sooo much to discuss about the Deep One~

His appearance might be nightmarish to those who ignore his presence, but Anika grew up with him by her side, so she's more than used to the shadow tendrils spreading their reach on occasion, and the alien cracked skull that is his mask. It doesn't resemble any known living creature, and the shape of the mandible doesn't seem to match the one of its cranium at all, nor it seems able to move other than little tilts. And yet, his voice is deep and clear, collected and somewhat stern when he speaks, only to be cracked with sincere affection towards Anika when the fatherly attitude takes over the entity.

But who is he, really? Anika was promised an explaination in her youth when the time would be right; but the pressing investigations of a marine ally of her former party forced a complicated truth out, risking the wrath of the angels of Drana, the goddess of Light and first of the Erasian pantheon, who so strongly fought to banish him from existence centuries prior.

The water genasi known as Mikatosh, cleric of Rovan, now lies petrified at the bottom of a lake close to the city of Bazel, in Derum. He sealed a promise with the Deep One, Anika, and Eksirias, a powerful Seer that watches over Maera with the strongest forces of the continent: when the knowledge he gathered is safe to have, the Patron and his daughter will personally find him again to undo the curse and give him back his humanity, so that everyone can safely continue their lives on. Of course, such secrets were shared with Anika in hopes that she could become aware of the reality she was involved in: a special protection was applied to her instead, so that she could carry the secrets without being detected by the divine, and without losing her chance at fulfilling the pact she still strongly believes in. Besides, it doesn't matter who the Deep One used to be in his past life to her - not to the extent of turning her back on him and stand against him despite his real identity. She is still very much convinced of wanting her father in the physical world, enough to give part of her divine blood and her wings up to the cause during a special ritual which involved more than 30 people.

Today, she can proudly summon a tangible version of the phantom by her side, and fighting together has deepened their bond even further. (Summoner class of Pathfinder 2e was the best replacement for the Warlock, keeping the lore intact and developing it so delightfully~)

More fun facts:

~ At the beginning of their journey, when Anika was still a teen, she went through a phase of rebellion towards the Deep One because of the feeling of being just used. On multiple occasions, however, the Deep One proved his strong bond by putting himself inbetween her and danger: while it might have been a matter of interest over all in early times, he certainly proved his attachment when he and Eksirias saved her from insanity after being forced through a ceremony by an unknown cult praising Void, chaos and destruction. She has been calling him father since, and Eksirias a mother, despite her relationship with her is far less developed than the one with him.

~ While her duties tripled in depth, Anika often finds time to chat with the Deep One about matters of all kind, also personal ones now that she's allowed to discuss his past and condition. Her curiosity and thirst for knowledge have known little boundaries so far, and he's been happy to indulge ever since.

There is much more about him to uncover, but I'll leave you to find the details out one by one. Ask the right questions, dear Anon; pry into forbidden matters at your own risk, but don't leave any ask unanswered~

#headcanon #world of eras #the deep one #eksirias #mikatosh #bazel #derum #void ritual #backstory #drana #angels #rovan #*EXCITED mun noises*#answered #unprompted #anonymous #eldritch gallery #my art

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