#after hurting and throwing me in a depressive spiral

[lukecastellanshandholder]

Was gonna work on another cute one-shot until my ex who I haven’t spoken to in 9 months decided to message me. Like, I beg your finest, most lavish, pardon?? After ignoring me to the point where I broke off our relationship because you only took and gave nothing in return? Now you wanna message me like normal?

Yeah, gonna be upset the rest of the night and just plan on writing tomorrow cause wtf??? 🤨😤

[risuola]

Please hear me out!

i’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I wanted to write it myself but I can’t write for shit 😭 Here’s my idea, reader (she/her) is close friends with Satoru and Suguru. She takes Suguru’s place instead, and Suguru ends up not going insane, and decides to stick around in Jujutsu High. But because the reader takes his place in this story, she spirals and abandons the idea of being morally good. (She’s a sensitive softie at heart 🥹 the cruel reality of being a sorcerer really took a toll on her). She commits so many crimes that the higher ups urge the strongest duo to finally execute her after dismissing her for nearly a decade. She dies in their hands, and doesn’t get a proper burial. Kenjaku takes her body and uses it as vessel. When Shibuya arc finally unfolds, she shows up right in front of Satoru and Suguru, alive and well. Soon reveals that it’s Kenjaku who has full control of her body. Of course their guilts eats them alive, and the reader (more like kenjaku) rubs salt on their wounds by taunting them about how she’s a great vessel and also a waste that she had to die so soon.

LOST CAUSE — F. READER x GOJO SATORU + GETO SUGURU, but there’s no romance whatsoever, guest appearance of Kenjaku

cw: an au where SatoSugu have another close friend; spoilers for Hidden Inventory/Premature Death arc and the very beginning of Shibuya arc, so much angst and the usual that comes with JJK – blood, hurt, tears and depression : D also, possibly inaccurate references to the original plot, reader's death — 5,5k words

a/n: I’m hearing you out dear! Thank you for the conception, it certainly fulfilled my need to write long and angsty <3

It was stupid. All of it was stupid. Why? Which decisions led you to where you now stood, all of your mind and body filled with devastation as you stilled in time – above the piles of little corpses, disfigured and permanently contorted in a grimace of dread and suffering. A stench of blood and burned bodies irritated your nostrils, your eyes were teary from all the smoke that still was filling the air and as you looked down at your hands, they were covered in blood and purple goo. Sticky. Repulsive. And the screams. In the dead silence of your surroundings, your head was still filled with an echo of those, who were now dead at your feet. Those, who you were unable to save. The imagery of them running, begging, dying carved itself into your mind. Why were you here, again?

* * *

“Hey, y/n, you’ve lost some weight. Are you alright?”, Satoru asked, playing with pencil that just a moment ago he asked you to throw at him. A showcase of his new skills, the techniques he’s been perfecting for the last year after encountering Toji Fushiguro. You forced a smile, squinting from the blinding sun of the summer at its peak.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, patting Suguru’s shoulder, because his attentive eyes were scanning you already for any sign of disorder; you could hear his analytic brain cranking up, his golden pupils drilling holes in your head. “I’m good, it’s just too hot you know?”

“Wanna go grab some ice cream later?”

“Always.” No, you didn’t wanna go grab ice cream with them. You didn’t wanna grab anything with anyone for that matter and already you had come up with some half-baked excuse to sell later to your two best friends.

You, Shoko, Gojo and Geto were all in the same year in Jujutsu high. You joined them a little late, but quickly found yourself inside the love triangle with the two boys. You called it love, but it truly was nothing more than just a bonding friendship that you wished will last forever; a really close one and you couldn’t imagine your world without their chaos. They were like brothers to you, the ones you’ve never had and Ieiri was like a sister, but she was smart enough to keep her distance from the mess of SatoSugu. You were not as bright in that matter, but for two years, you couldn’t appreciate enough the yin and yang that they created, the casual bickers and deep talks late at night, the cuddles and pinches, the pats and smacks, the tears and laughs, sleepovers, sleepless nights and everything between. You loved them, you couldn’t think of your future without them.

That’s until not that long ago. Few months, maybe. You felt like you’ve been spiraling slowly into something that could only be named depression, because if not that, then what else? Why would you randomly tear up nowadays, zoning out completely in the midst of sentences. Why would you spend nights, blankly staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, isolating yourself from your friends more and more? And why would you still hear that? The screams, the pleads of hysteric, the soul-tearing sounds of pain and frighten that you’ve been carrying inside your brain since that one mission.

Everything went wrong then, and you were alone. Shoko stayed at the campus, working her way towards becoming a doctor and you, Satoru and Suguru were assigned only to solo missions since the plasma vessel failure. You were strong, it was stated that your year was exceptional, that all of you have a chance to become special grades soon, but you hated that. Being strong came with a burden that you were not ready to take, and when you realized that, most of it was already heaving on your shoulders.

When you got to that school, it was already too late and it wasn’t your fault. You rushed there as soon as you were assigned with the job, but when you dropped the curtain and looked at the building, there was already smoke coming from the window holes, that some time earlier had glass in them. And when you kicked your way inside the little indoor sports arena, the view struck you in ways you couldn’t possibly prepare yourself for and certainly, you couldn’t process it as well. The school was primary, those people were just kids, but the curses pay no mind to age of their victims. This one was particularly playful – or rather, eagerly violent – spreading hellfire around, burning these children alive one by one, causing chaos, suffering and bloodshed. When you finished exorcising it, it was over. For the curse, for your job and for the lives of all of those children. None survived. Not even one.

Not always we can save everyone, Suguru always told you, rationalizing the sacrifices sorcerers have to make and you tried to repeat that in your head when you got out. You tried to play it over the screams, but eventually, the soft tone of your friend’s voice got lost in the catastrophic cacophony of sorrow, sizzling skin and burning death. And that, maybe wouldn’t be enough for you to lose your mind. Maybe you could recover from that, but soon after the incident you witnessed the group of people that stood behind the assault. A band of grown humans, men and women, who were convinced some of those children were possessed by devils or some other shit, so in all hypocrisy known to race, they hired a curse user to fight fire with fire. Quite literally. Those people were so blinded by their fear of unknown that they sacrificed lives of dozens of little children, they shattered so many innocent lives only because they believed in something absurd. And then, they tried to push the blame on you, on sorcerers despite the fact they hired one to do the dirty job. And then, they killed the user, fearing him too. When you’ve got to see the body of a sorcerer that you’ve never got to meet, or at least you thought so, you realized that probably, you wouldn’t recognize him anyway. You’ve seen corpses barely reminiscing of humans, twisted and broken as curses often chose the most petrifying, violent ways of killing, but this? This was something you’ve never seen before – a cruel, ruthless exhibition of pure hate, evidence of deliberate torture, the picture painted in stabs, burns and bruises. All of which, caused by people, who frankly, showed no remorse nor regret as their faces were painted in pride, origin of which you failed to notice.

Those humans. Used jujutsu to commit mass murder only to blame it on your people and kill them. Animals. No. Worse. Much worse.

“Y/n, please, let’s talk it through,” Suguru tried to reason, as you stood up against the two of your friends, in the middle of Shibuya’s scramble crossing. People were passing next to the three of you, unbothered by the way your worlds were colliding right here, in the busiest part of Tokyo. People didn’t care of others, they wouldn’t react if someone next to them would get stabbed to death, only caring about their own shoes to not get them stained in the dirt of blood.

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not who you are,” Satoru raised his tone, but all you felt was nothing. The emotions you’ve seen on his face were real, you knew it. Satoru wears his heart on his shoulder, he pours everything he feels into the words he aims at people that are close to his soul, and you were no exception, but at this moment, you felt nothing. “I know you couldn’t do that.”

“Couldn’t I?”, you asked, thinking back on the last Friday, during which you executed those same people that used jujutsu sorcerers to wipe the floors of that primary school. To wipe the blood and burned bodies. You remember how they knelt before you, how the women cried begging for their lives, yelping that they have children, families and yet, those same children and families were nowhere in their mind when they ordered a mass murder in the primary school. “And why would that be exactly? Because you two think so?”

“Y/n, I get it,” Geto stepped forward, but stopped as you glanced at him. “I really do. You know me, we talked about it. It was hard for me too after Riko, I know what you’re going through.”

“I know Suguru.”

“I thought you keep his side, y/n,” Gojo threw his hands in the air, helplessly trying to find the words to dress his mind with. “I thought you believe in doing good with your powers. That people won’t understand so we shouldn’t look at them and just do what we do. Wasn’t that what you’ve told me?”

“I did, yes,” you gave it a nod and exhaled. “But it changed. Yes, they won’t understand. Anything that they can’t comprehend is pure evil for them and yet they believe in such absurd like gods. They will use us to do their dirty works and then blame us for it, because they cannot understand a single thing. And then, they will kill us, one by one and we, the strongest, cannot do nothing about it. We’ll have to go through life through the corpses of our friends. People don’t deserve what we do for them.”

“Y/n, please, let’s talk about it. Let’s get back to school-“ Geto tried, but you cut him off.

“You two, get back to school. I know I have a sentence already, there’s no point for me to get back there only to get executed. And frankly, I don’t want to get back there, to take part in what they teach us is right when we die for those people. We give our lives for them and they have no idea,” you said, taking a step back. You could tell the lights will soon switch. “Look around, Satoru, Suguru. They crawl around us unaware of our sacrifice and yet, even if they are so fragile a single blow can kill them, they think we deserve to be killed. I’m not gonna take part in this anymore. I’m sorry.”

“We can’t let you go, you know that, we-“

“Then attack me. I’m sure any of you can take me down. I’d rather die by your hands, than on a job of protecting them.”

You turned your back on them, and Satoru raised his hand, pointing at your silhouette, blue already on his mind as his cursed energy gathered in front of his fingers. Suguru’s curses sprawled out of their dimension, but none of them pursued with the attack, unable to do that. They couldn’t kill you. You were too dear to them. They loved you too much to take your life like this. So they let you go, and soon enough, they lost the sight of you in the crowd.

* * *

Nine years. It's been almost a decade and many things changed. You changed your ways completely, making a point of protecting sorcerers from people, even if that meant killing them, but care for humans was something you’ve lost many years ago, having it slowly replaced by disgust. Your once soft heart turned hard and dark and all the good in you vanished as you time after time solidified your beliefs that humans are simply not worth saving, therefore there was no need to keep them alive the moment they became useless. Over those years, you used those people to your benefit, raising money and gathering intel and then, the second their use to you has become nonexistent, so were them. Blood burned permanent stains on your hands but screams of hurt didn’t phase you at all. Have you become a monster? You might have. But for the lives of sorcerers, it was worth it.

It’s been almost a decade since you’ve been dismissed from jujutsu community for crimes, that over those years piled up rapidly and during this time, both Satoru and Suguru tried to stay out of this, whilst Yaga turned a blind eye to the corrupted path one of his students went down by. The now principal felt responsible for not doing enough, for not saying enough, for not noticing soon enough and though the rest of his students, now teachers in Jujutsu high told him that some things were inevitable, it wasn’t that easy to switch off the thinking. Same went for both the strongest, but for years, they waited in hopes for something to change.

That was until you killed someone seemingly important. A politician of sorts, high government pawn that you learned was funding a unit of so-called sorcerer killers, ones that modelled after Toji Fushiguro in cold blood were meant to take down a menace that jujutsu users were, as if it was them who were the ones to fear. Opposite to little no-one’s deaths, this one was loud, this one was medial and this one, Yaga couldn’t let slip. So, an order was given.

Kill on sight.

Almost ten years, and yet Satoru still couldn’t believe what happened. Whilst young, the three of you were almost inseparable and you, out of the whole group, were the most sensitive person he knew. You were soft and full of smiles, kind above all else and yet, you were strong enough to hold back the tears he knew were threatening to roll down your cheeks on many occasions. You were soothing, an oasis that was easily able to turn any darkness into light, and what Satoru couldn’t forgive himself was that once that same darkness started devouring you, he didn’t notice. Too focused on his own missions, on lighthearted shenanigans, on perfecting his usage of limitless and six eyes, he had no idea about your state of mind and when he realized, you have already been sentenced. Suguru didn’t notice either. Or maybe didn’t want to notice, because you talked through many nights about the doubts you both had. He knew about the utter devastation that was slowly consuming your soul but hoped you’ll overcome it, because you always were a sunshine, and a sunshine couldn’t die down to shadows. Turned out, this shadow was pitch black and no light made its way through it.

“Y/n,” they called you and the beautiful music that their voices created brought back memories of your youth. Ten years, almost, had passed since you’ve seen your best friends the last time, and with curiosity sparkling through your system, you turned to face them.

“Satoru, Suguru,” addressing them, your lips curved up slightly in a manner of soft joy. Your heart fluttered at the sight; your pulse raised just as it would for person who’s just seen the love of their life. “Long time no see.”

“It’s not as pleasurable as we would like it to be, y/n,” Suguru sighed and you took a moment to absorb the view.

Both of them changed. Suguru, still tall and broad, seemingly even buffier than he was before stood there with his hair now longer and partially knotted and partially left loose on his back. His facial features sharpened, jaw got more edge to it, eyes turned more narrow and focused, but still, some softness remained from what you remembered and probably he would seem even more familiar if not for the tough expression he had going on. Satoru, right next to him, became even taller. His white hair was now pointing up, kept by a white wrap that completely covered his eyes – something that he probably adapted during the time of usage of his six eyes. Not much of his face you could see, but with ease you noticed his features matured. Both were dressed in uniforms that you could only tie to their unbreakable bond with Jujutsu high.

“You’re now teachers, the two of you, huh?”, you asked, smiling softly, but keeping their moves in mind. “I’ve heard this year’s students are exceptional, now it makes sense. Good they have such amazing senseis.”

“You could have been one of the teachers too,” Gojo snapped.

“How could I teach anyone something I don’t believe in?” a chuckle rumbled deep in your chest as you thought of the image. Abstraction of it made you amused. “How’s Shoko? Is she a doctor now?

“She is,” Geto muttered, unsure why is he answering your questions. “Yaga is the principal.”

“Oh, is he? Look at him, climbing up that ladder,” you laughed, “so, it’s on his orders that you two are here?”

“You killed a fucking politician, y/n,” Satoru spoke, sounding calm but you could tell his blood was boiling. Both of his hands hidden in his pockets were visibly clenched in fists and even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew his brows were furrowed. “Almost a decade we allowed you to do whatever you tried to do, but this time, higher ups stepped in. The sentence is decided, we cannot let you pursue your goals further.”

“And why are you both here? I’m sure just one amazing special grade would be enough,” there was a certain amount of poison in your words, though it wasn’t directed at your friends and both of them knew it. “Are the higher ups so desperate to get me off the board because it’s them who give green lights to those assholes that kill us? Did you know that that pathetic politician I’ve killed was in midst of creating an army of little Toji Fushiguros? How do you think he even knew about the dude, huh?”

“An army of Toji?”

“Yeah, remember that guy, that cut both of you into slices? Yea, that one. And who’s giving away the cursed tools to said army? Well, it’s not me and I assume not any of you as well.”

 “Y/n,” Suguru made his way to the side in what seemed like an attempt on surrounding you, because in that same moment, Satoru began shifting to the other side. “I agree with you. People don’t deserve what we do. But no one else can do it. You’re killing those whom we swore to protect.”

“Tell me, Suguru… how many bodies of our friends did Shoko cut open?” you asked and the question made the dark-haired man tsk. It was the truth that hurt the most, he hated how precisely it hit the spot. “How many of our allies were spread across her metal table after Haibara was there? Well, half of Haibara?”

“That’s not the point,” Satoru scoffed and with an exhale, he raised his hand up to loosen up the bandages around his eyes. “We die just as people die. Sorcerers are not above death. You know that, right?”

“We’re not above that, but we are above people and we risk our lives, which we just like them have only one of, for them. And they fuckingstep on it. If I have to pick who’s gonna die from a curse, why would I pick a sorcerer, when a loss of a mere human will be much less tangible than the loss of one of us?”

“Because they cannot protect themselves from curses, and we can.” Geto replied and in a whiff, you felt the appearance of his curses around him. Both him and Gojo were getting ready for a fight, so you had to get ready as well.

“But can we really protect ourselves from them?”, you glared back at him; your tone calm but laced with icicles that pierced through Suguru’s mind as he struggled to see you inside of you.

All of the softness he had always equated you with dissolved into something he couldn’t quite place. Image of you killing someone just for the sake of killing somehow couldn’t materialize inside his mind and it pained him, breaking his heart to think that he will be the reason of your death. And it’s true that probably, just one of them would be enough for that fight, but there was no way they would be able to chose and no one else could do it. You were the strongest, you grew into a special grade quickly after leaving and your technique proved to have no flaws or holes. You were a threat above abilities of others, stepping down only to the two of your friends, if not being equal to them.

“Let’s do it quickly, Suguru,” Satoru sighed, tucking his wraps into one of his pockets.

“Oh, where’s your playful attitude, Satoru?”, you teased, but somehow it hurt you as well. It was your friend you were talking to. Both of them, that came here to kill you and only way for you to get out of it was to kill them.

And killing them, turned out, you couldn’t do. Even hurting them came with difficulty not physically, but mentally. But you fought them both at the same time, keeping a defensive stance, searching for an opening to vanish. From them, you wished to run away, to not make them take the burden of your death because you could see it in their eyes, you were just as dear to them still, as they were to you. But they left you no opening to run away, so you fought. Using everything you’ve got to immobilize them, because instead of taking their lives, that would give you more time.

The way you stood against them, with your cursed technique of energy manipulation, it gave them the hardest time since Toji, and considering they were both taking part in the fight now, ten years after and significantly stronger, just showed how much work you’ve put into your own development. And with pride you noticed, how strong both of your friends became as well. You countered all of their attacks, slashed away the curses and blocked the blues and reds, albeit it really was a matter of time and you knew that. And so, you pushed through, materializing in your hands weapons made from pure, solidified cursed energy, using swords and needles and creating armor around your body that effectively, shielded you from any attack. Your weapon was different from cursed tools. It was made only from energy, strong and unbendable, changing shapes and forms as you deemed it necessary, allowing you to use it in close combat and on long distances. Any curses Suguru summoned stood no chance against what you wielded, but the sheer amount of them was just short of overwhelming you. On top of that, Satoru’s constant offensive, his fists saturated in limitless abilities, the sheer strength of both bodies that were attacking you, slowly rendered you weaker. And it didn’t surprise you.

The end has come when one of the curses stopped you mid-way, engaging in a fight that distracted you enough for a hollow purple to reach your body. The blast threw you away as your body pierced through three buildings straight, through thick concrete bocks and hard steel reinforcements like it was tearing through wet paper and it’s only thanks to the full body coverage of your cursed technique, that it didn’t kill you on the spot. But it hurt. All of your body felt broken once you finally stopped, back pressed against the wall that still cracked underneath the impact of your frame hitting it. Blood covered your vision and a cough shook your body with painful wave overtaking your entire nervous system.

“So that’s the infamous hollow purple, huh?”, you muttered, leaning your head back against the cold solid behind you. There wasn’t much in your body that wouldn’t be fractured at least, you could tell without a mistake that your heart was still beating only because of the cursed energy that still circled throughout your frame.

Both men appeared in front of you, jumping from above – Suguru coming from one of his flying curses and Satoru, probably just teleported here.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Gojo whispered, squatting in front of you and Geto followed his motion to level his vision with yours.

“’ts alright, ‘toru,” you muttered, feeling the dizziness taking the best of you. After the hit you took, you were certain not even a genius like Shoko could save you. “Sugu… both so strong.”

Exchanging a quick glance, both sorcerers sat down, on your sides, paying no mind to the puddle of blood underneath you. They took your hands, so small in comparison to theirs, now red and wounded severely, but the pain you couldn’t feel much of anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take this mission for you. Back in our days. It was meant to be mine, but I was training,” Satoru confessed, squeezing lightly the fractured bones in your palm, reminiscing of the day that was the beginning of your end. The elementary. That day engraved itself in his memory as one of many days that seemingly mattered nothing. Yaga told him about the issue, the curse and fire in school for the youngest, but he brushed it off, focusing all of his mind on perfecting the last touches of his technique. He still remembers how sensei was mumbling profanities, but couldn’t care less because he was that close from teleporting.

“’ts okay, ‘toru.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there either,” Suguru added, his voice barely a whisper as you leaned your head against his shoulder, desperate to ease the heaviness. What Geto remembered from the day in question was that he had an issue with his own technique. Little difficulty, as he was absorbing one of the special grade curses he just caught. It wasn’t severe, it wasn’t even that important, he could have fix this on another time and take the god damn mission, but instead, he declined. “I thought if I don’t take the job, Satoru will, but turned out, it got to you.”

“Sugu, ‘ts ok.”

“Remember how we used to sneak out the dorms to get ice cream in the middle of the night?”, Satoru changed the topic completely – a defensive mechanism to lighten up the mood, to prevent him from crying. And you hummed in response, lowering your heavy lids.

“And how Satoru got drunk after three sips of a beer? That’s when we all knew he’s the lightest head in the history,” Suguru added and faded images of how Gojo discovered that he cannot drink to save his life rushed to the front of your mind.

You had no idea how long it took, was it few minutes or merely few seconds, but you listened to both men rambling above your head, reminiscing of your school days and everything that you did together. Of every prank you witnessed that they took on poor first years, of every little mischief and menace they performed, following Satoru’s lead, because it’s always him who stood tall in the name of chaos. You were humming softer and softer, quieter and quieter.

Until you were not.

“And then we put those cupcakes in Nanami’s bed and-“

“Satoru,” Geto cut him softly, looking down at your stilled frame. At your frozen chest and softened features, sensing no more heartbeat. And Gojo turned his eyes towards you as well, taking in the last picture of you, who he loved as his little sister, even though there was no age gap between you and him. And then they both cried in silence, spending another hour with your dead body before gathering you and taking home.

* * *

October 31, 2018

21:18

Only word that could describe what was happening in Shibuya at this moment would be chaos. Pure disorder, people frightened and running, some unconscious on the ground and some other hiding from what was happening in the Shibuya station. Most of them couldn’t see it but felt the terror, saw the blood, smelled the death in the middle of which, two men were standing.

Both Satoru and Suguru, when they came down here to fight whatever the hell was attacking people, couldn’t move; their heads void of any logical thoughts as memories rushed to the fronts of their minds. Stunned to the core and frozen, they looked into the eyes of the person in front of them, distrusting their own vision. The person that wore the familiar look of you, the energy of you and what seemed like – the same cursed technique, and voice, and face, and hair, and everything. Not one thing betrayed trickery or deception as there you stood, facing them both with a smile on your face – one of those soft ones that had melted their hearts on the spot a decade before. Your features relaxed, genuine, borderline joyous as you breathed the air around them once again.

“What…?”, Suguru snapped first, forcing his own body to move and smacking his friend’s shoulder. “How?”

“Who the hell are you…?”, Satoru whispered, voice stuck in his throat as all of the information that his senses were receiving contradicted with what his soul was telling him.

“Aah? It’s been few months, but do you not recognize me anymore?”, your voice flew through your mouth, the very same gentle and bright tone they used to fall asleep to. “It’s hurting my feelings.”

“Cut it,” Gojo snapped, now putting more pressure on his vocal cords, a groan escaping his throat in effect. “Cut the bullshit, you’re not her. You cannot be her. Y/n is-“

“Dead? Yeah, that purple really messed me up,” you chuckled, shrugging your shoulders slightly and stepping forward. “I have to admit, restoring the body wasn’t the easiest of all.”

“Reveal yourself,” Geto took the defensive stance, ready to pursue with attack if needed and his curses floating behind him on standby. “You’re not fooling us.”

“Ah, how stubborn,” another laugh brightened your face, only now more menacing, more teasing as your dainty fingers reached up to gather the lose hair out of your forehead, revealing a line of thin stitches across your skin there. “See, you really did me a favor by burying her body oh-so traditionally. Isn’t that the procedure to burn every deceased sorcerer?” your mouth was moving, spilling the words interlaced with taunt as the, what looked like, thread was pulled out of the horizontal line above your eyebrows and soon after, grabbed by the hair, the top of your head was lifted, revealing the terrifying image of a brain. With mouth of its own.

“What did you do to her?!”

“Oh, I just took what you two threw away,” you replied, slowly putting the upper skull part down on its place, matching the lines as the thread went through the holes by itself, securing the head together. “And I have to thank you for your little sentiment. If not for that, I wouldn’t have my perfect vessel. Ah, but it’s sad, isn’t it? Such a young, pretty girl had to die so early, and more so, killed by her own best friends. What a waste to jujutsu community, don’t you think?”

Both the boys stood there in shock, guilt eating them alive as the salt and acid was being rubbed into the wounds that just opened. The scabs of the past were ripped away, revealing the gushing pain and Satoru growled in anger, realizing that once again, he might have been responsible for what happened to you. This time, Suguru kept up with him in terms of fury, feeling his own blood boiling in his veins, unable to watch your body being possessed like this, used like a toy.

“Y/n, I know you’re there-“ Gojo called, but got stopped quickly by another pilfering laugh.

“Oh, but she’s not. Her soul is long gone and dead. You made sure to have her soul dead, and you have to know I nearly teared up reviewing her memories when I took the body. Such a poignant story, oh, so heartbreaking.” The teasing had no end as more and more poisonous venom spilled through your mouth, contradicting the carefree and joyful tone of your voice.

“What makes you believe that even if you take her body, you can win here? We’ve defeated her already,” Suguru narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, you’ve won but that’s because she let you two won. Wasn’t that surprising how easily you finished her? A special grade? How she didn’t even try to dodge the hollow purple, like the little curse that she was fighting with was really that much of a struggle? Oh, don’t be silly, you two. It wouldn’t be that easy if she tried.”

“We won’t let you-“

“You must understand your situation. What you’re standing in is a special grade cursed object. A prison realm, and to say it simply, you’ve already lost,” you pointed at the floor, from where the four corners of a cube stretched into a mass of flesh, with an eye – giant and bleeding, staring at its target, as the next stage of sealing began before either of sorcerers reacted. “And what’s more interesting, the prison realm can seal only one person at the time, but with the incredible technique of my current host, I was able to fuel its capacity to two occupants, by manipulating the cursed energy it used. Marvelous!”

The cursed object began enveloping both men, rendering them helpless and immobile, as their cursed energy became unavailable for their use.

“We’ll save you, y/n, you hear me?”, Satoru yelled in unison with his friend and the lone tear rolled down your face, before your hand reached up wiping it in amusement.

“Gate close.”

[maybeelse]

Supermarket Stillness

There's a mildly embarrassing shelf tucked away in the back of the supermarket, past the jars of pickled spells and the bottles of five-hour-Stillness. It's part of the store you've always been dimly aware of, but why would you ever need to buy some freeze-dried Purpose?

Well, today you have a reason.

You don't linger in front of it, just grab the first vacuum-sealed bag that looks right and try not to meet the cashier's eye as their hands blur through scanning it and all your other groceries.

You're sure they've seen far worse. It still sucks.

---

Back at home, your house-guest's wings twitch as she stares at the proffered bag.

"Seriously?"

"I just, I thought ... you said you needed some?"

"Yeah, but not this shit. I've tried it before, it's barely better than an MMO." She pauses for a moment, eyes you. "Or methadone."

"... oh."

"Like, I appreciate the thought," she continues as her broken halo sways above her head, "it just wouldn't help me at all. I'm sure it would blow you away, you've never even tried it, have you?"

You shake your head. "No, uh, everyone always said not to."

"Ha! They were probably right. Little thing like you's better off not fucking with that part of of the world."

"... yeah."

After that the conversation trails off into the usual day-to-day space-filling, words that hardly matter and mean less; a pantomime of connection.

You tuck the little vacuum sealed bag in the back of a cupboard (it cost too much to throw away, no matter how useless it is!) and try to forget about it.

---

Time passes, as time is wont to do.

Your house-guest leaves a few weeks later.

It's nothing to do with you, she explains. She's grateful that you were able to give her a place to stay, she's never liked having to rough it with the feral angels. But no matter those fleeting moments stolen in the depths of night, she needs something more than you can give.

She mentions that she's going across the city to live in one of the witch-houses, a place where she thinks she'll find what she needs. You wish her well, of course you do, and then ...

Your little apartment is empty again.

She stops replying to your texts after a few weeks.

That's how it goes, isn't it? There's hardly anything something like you can offer to someone like her. You're just a freeze-dried, mass-produced substitute discarded as soon as something better comes along; a worthless thing sinking deeper into depression's spiral.

A month later you're using a sudden upswing to clean out all the junk that's accumulated in your cupboards—all the almost-empty boxes, the dented cans and expired jars; the detritus of your dreams of Doing Things In The Kitchen—when you stumble across the bag of Purpose again.

It really doesn't look appetizing at all, even with the bright words and little cartoon halo on its label. Really, what were you thinking trying to offer it to a proper angel?

You really should just throw it away, but ...

You pause right before tossing it into the can.

Because, really, it would be a shame to just waste so much money on something you never try, wouldn't it? It would be a Waste, and that's so very close to a sin.

Just one taste couldn't hurt, just the tiniest morsel. Just to know what you've been missing out on. It'll be fine.

[hijinks-n-lowjinks]

thoughts on 268 and megumi

This post is going to be a long discussion of how I interpret Megumi's situation with both Sukuna and with Yuuji. I do detail some of my own experiences with mental health and how my interpretation of the chapter and Megumi's characterization are influenced directly by it.

(tw: discussions of depression/mental health/suicide/suicidal ideation)

First of all, people respond and interpret and react to media/stories differently. Just because someone has a different take than you does not mean that they are wrong! Those feelings come from a very real place and it's important to process and converse about media with that sort of empathy in mind.

Moving on to the actual analysis part, there is one central theme and framing that I'm starting to believe gege has intended to use Megumi's situation as a metaphor/allusion for: mental illness/suicidal ideation.

Megumi is trapped within himself, stuck in darkness that he can't seem to find his way out of by himself. His condition only grew worse and worse the longer he spent time stuck in his own body to the point where we began to see a lot of self-destructive tendencies and suicidal ideation from him. He didn't care if he lived or died, the most important thing to him was to just stop feeling everything that was hurting him and for the others to stop working so hard and putting themselves in danger to help someone he believed wasn't worth the effort.

We see Sukuna trying to convince Megumi not to fight back and to give in to his control. He throws accusations at Megumi that we as the audience know are manipulations of reality, but they are the words that someone dealing with depression will hear from their inner worst self no matter how twisted they are from reality.

The twist here is that Megumi tells Sukuna that he has never intended on living a life he personally cares about, but that he's going to continue to let the people he loves anchor and tether him to life.

And then Megumi is literally pulled from the darkness through the actions of someone else/someone who loves him. Yuuji is fighting for Megumi and his words and actions have finally made an impact and helped Megumi fight back.

And the crazy thing is, Sukuna chases after him. Depression and mental health are constant struggles even after recovery. It feels like there's a constant pressure not to backslide into bad habits and spiral back down the depression rabbit hole. Mental health struggles will always linger, but that's why we have to fight back and choose to want to get better.

The biggest divide in the fandom reaction to 268 is Megumi's words "just once more, I want to try living for someone else."

Now, I think the words "I'm doing to live for someone else" have been taken so literally by people that they think it means "and therefore I am not living for myself." Those two things are not opposites, but go hand in hand!

I can agree this decision gege made for him is not as satisfying as Megumi choosing to live for himself, but I do believe this was a purposeful decision and that it is the most realistic choice for someone in Megumi's position.

Not to get too specific, but for a couple of years the only thing keeping me from a complete spiral into an actual contemplation of suicide was because of my relationships to other people. I stayed alive because of them. I barely took care of myself and basically forced myself to do the bare minimum because I knew that somehow there were people in my life who wanted me to live.

I could not live for myself. I did not care for or love myself in the slightest, so why would I try to make my life better? The only reason I actually started caring about myself was because other people cared for me first. They told me I was loved, that they enjoyed spending time with me, that I was someone who would be missed if things ever did go south.

That's why Yuuji being the catalyst behind Megumi's decision to fight was so impactful to me, because Megumi was me.

Megumi's decision being influenced by his relationship with Yuuji instantly reminded me of one of my favorite monologues from Fruits Basket where they discuss self love and how choosing to care about your own life isn't as simple as many neurotypicals often make it out to be. It's a scene that was heavily impactful to me when I was going through my worst times and I feel like it really puts Megumi's choice to live for the sake of others in perspective.

"There was a time when I stopped talking, like you. The reason was a little different, but I think the feelings of shame and self-hatred are similar. Your teacher advises you to “love yourself”. What does that even mean? “Look for good points"… how is someone supposed to find those? I only knew the things that I hated about myself. The whole reason we despise ourselves is because we can only see the parts we hate, so forcing ourselves to find good things feels pointless, like we'd just be making them up. It's a nice sentiment, but it’s not always that simple. Instead, I think it's when someone else says they love you that you're finally able to begin to love yourself. When someone truly accepts who you are, that's when you can start to forgive yourself and suddenly see the good things you've had all along."

This scene hit me hard when I first watched it. It was exactly what I needed to hear: that I wasn’t weak and pathetic for not being able to see a future for myself on my own. I wasn't weak because I had to rely on the support of others to keep my head above water. I wasn't weak because I needed their love and praise to enable me to see those very same aspects about me that they loved!!!

Living for the sake of others is not the end all be all of recovery. That is merely the first step: recognizing that you are loved and that you want to live because others want you to live. That is not where recovery stops! It's a long, arduous journey where you eventually have to choose to live for yourself because you want to. But sometimes that decision is so daunting and feels so impossible when you're in the thick of it that it can completely crush your spirit.

When you're at the end of your rope, it's the people you love who tie you back down.

In my mind, Megumi didn't choose to fight or live only because of Yuuji. Yuuji was the catalyst, but not the entire purpose. Megumi heard that he was loved by someone, and because he loved them in return he chose to fight. He wanted to experience that love and thus show Yuuji that he was loved in return by fighting to stay with him.

[bunnie-online]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter {A.S.}

getting into an argument with ani & your parental issues are brought up

warnings: NO SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT BUT MY BLOG IS 18+ ONLY. hurt/comfort, parental issues lol, crying, Anakin is lowkey mean i’m sorry ✋🏽😔, not accurate SW lore, one use of ‘y/n’, d3ath mention.

Anakin was so done with today. it was friday afternoon and he had just endured 8 hours of training and then a 2 hour meeting with the Jedi Council where he was scolded for a rash decision he made on his most recent mission. to say Anakin was frustrated was the understatement of the century.

you weren’t having a great day either, it was your fathers birthday. he had left you and your mother to start a new family when you were in your early teens. shortly after that your mother spiraled into depression and had tossed you out. you escaped to Coruscant and happened to be found by Master Windu who took you under his wing.

the weeks of what used to be important family events were always difficult. especially birthdays. you couldn’t wait to curl up into your boyfriend’s arms and feel the weight of the day melt away.

Anakin made his way to your quarters, wanting to do the same. his walk was all a blur until he reached your door. Anakin walked into your apartment ready to collapse into you. he found you curled up on the couch, looking forlorn.

“hey, angel. what’s wrong?” his voice soft and obviously sullen. you lift your head, your face tear stained. “oh it’s just my dads birthday..” you trail off. Anakin sighed. “oh that again.” he sounded slightly annoyed.

granted you’ve been sulking about this all week, but you had a right to. you missed normalcy, you missed coming home from school on your father’s birthday and giving him handmade cards you crafted so carefully. you missed the delicious birthday dinner your mother made and hiding his gifts behind your back, making him guess what it was. you missed sitting on his lap and helping him blow out his candles after singing to him loudly and in between giggles. it sickens you to think about his new children doing all of those things you thought we sacred to him, just as they were to you.

“what does that mean?” you ask, getting defensive. “nothing, angel.” he corrected his tone, realizing what he had done. “no. what did you mean by that?” you doubled down, standing up and walking closer to him. “again? again?! oh i’m sorry that i’m mourning my family.” you cross your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes.

Anakin scoffs. “you have to be kidding. it just slipped out i didn’t even mean it like that.” he steps closer to you. “obviously you meant something, Anakin. you wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.” your eyes threw daggers into his. “angel, can we just drop it? i had a long day i just wanna relax.” he reaches his hand out to touch your arm. you pull back harshly. “darling, come on.”

“no! you have the audacity to tell me to ignore a comment like that?! really?!” your voice gaining volume. Anakin pressed his palm against his forehead, his anger building. “love, i didn’t even mea-“ he starts. “don’t even try to throw that shit at me again.” you interrupt him.

“you aren’t the only one without parents, y/n!!” he yells. you jump back. Anakin had never yelled at you before. “i held my mother as she passed away after not seeing her for ten. years! you aren’t the only one mourning!”

you were too shocked to speak, but your face said everything. after what felt like an eternity, Anakin’s face softened, he realized what had came out of his mouth. “angel…baby…i am- i am so sor-.” “don’t.” you interrupt him again. “i know- i know i’m not the only one mourning. i know you don’t have parents either but i still supported you. i held you after every nightmare, flashback, anxiety attack, everything. i still do.” your voice cracked often as you choked down tears.

“if you were annoyed with my sulking, you could’ve shut it out like you do to me every time something bothers you.” you started walking past him, he tried to grab you by your bicep. “get the fuck away from me, Anakin.” you state coldly, his eyes widen. you’ve never spoken to him in that way. you push past him and walk out of your own apartment.

Anakin stood there, not only shocked at your actions but also his. he’s always been so caring not matter how his day went, he always held space for you. and you held space for him. the tears welling up in his eyes finally spilt over, his usually stoic face contorted as he cried.

you stormed out to the garden, finding a bench in a secluded area. you sat there and cried for what seemed like forever. you cried until your head throbbed and your lungs were sore.

Anakin had to make this right, he couldn’t leave you like this. the sound of leaves crunching behind you nearly scared you out of your skin.

Anakin placed a blanket over your shoulders before sitting down next to you. “angel. i am so sorry. truly. this week was exhausting and i have no right to take it out on you.” he wraps one of his arms around you and you melt into his warmth. “i forgive you, Ani. and i’m sorry too. i know you’re also grappling with your own feelings. i never meant to appear selfish.”

“i love you, my angel.” his plants a kiss on your temple. “i love you too, Ani.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this was my first time writing hurt/comfort pls don’t bully meeee

~bunnie

[cherry-queens-blog]

A little story i had saved for awhile now and never got around to post it yet. This story hit me right in the feels a bit hard. In this story Gyutaro is searching for a partner on a dating site only to be constantly mocked and rejected sending him into a depressed frenzy until he finds reader.

(MDNI)

Warning: Self harm, depression, and Mentions of blood.

FINDING LOVE

It was a late night about 11:56 and Gyutaro was on his laptop making a profile on a dating site. He was pretty lonely and wanted to at least try and find someone he can talk to, hang out with, and just be with. He wasn't expecting much due to his appearance so he expected to get rejected by literally everyone but it doesn't hurt to at least try right? He thought in his head. Months had soon passed him by as each message he had gotten so far was just women making fun of him, calling him names, and telling him to get off the site. This made his self esteem drop further and further, even seeing all the guys get the ladies like crazy caused his jealousy to just sky rocket. The longer Gyutaro scrolled through the site the more it sent him into a spiral making him let out a frustrated sigh. It really seemed like no one interested in him, and the constant rejection was staring to really wear him down.

"why can't anyone just look past my appearance?"

He muttered to himself while slamming his laptop closed in anger. He knew that he wasn't conventionally attractive, but seeing all the other guys easily getting dates made him feel worse about himself, his jealously growing and festering, making him more bitter and angry. Gyutaro got another message but chose to just ignore it for the night, getting up and going to bed instead since he had work in a couple hours but as he laid down it felt impossible to sleep. He laid there in his bed staring at his blank wall unable to shake off the loneliness that consumed him. He just wanted to feel loved and wanted so badly but getting that was merely impossible. Not knowing how to escape from his own bitter thoughts he laid awake tossing and turning for a good two hour, unable to find any peace. The rejection from the dating had hit him harder than he thought it would, and he was starting to think there was no point in trying anymore.

Eventually, exhaustion took hold of him and he finally fell into a fitful sleep, weighed down by his own sadness and frustration. As the sun began to rise in the sky and his alarm goes off waking him from his slumber. Groaning he hit his alarm to shut it off, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes, feeling the fatigue from his restless night settle in. Despite not wanting to get up, he dragged himself out of bed and got ready for work. He knew he couldn't let his personal life interfere with his job, so he tried to push his negative thoughts aside as he headed out to face the day. Throwing on his shirt and pants he heads out of his room towards the kitchen to find Ume who was already ready for school making frozen waffles in the toaster for breakfast before school started up. Gyutaro glanced at his little sister, giving her a nod of greeting before walking over and pouring himself a nice cup of hot coffee. He wasn't exactly a morning person especially not after the hurtful night he had, but he appreciated the effort Ume put in to make breakfast. He took a sip of the of the steaming liquid, letting out a deep sigh as the caffeine hit his system. He sits down at the table as Ume brings him waffles, setting them down in front of him, taking a bite of the waffles, savoring the sweetness and warmth of the food. Gyutaros thoughts however were still clouded with the constant rejection from the site he was using, his mind racing as he thought about all the messages he had gotten last night. After breakfast Ume and Gyutaro both grab their coats and Ume grabs her backpack and phone. The two siblings walk outside towards his motorcycle, placing a helmet on Umes head and helping her onto his bike before getting on himself. After dropping her off at school and giving her a quick hug, watching her run off towards her friends he sets off to work. As he rides off to work he can't help but feel the sense of emptiness building up inside of him. He was grateful for Ume, but he still felt alone and miserable.

Doing his best to push those thoughts down trying to focus on the road ahead of him coming to a stop at a red light. Waiting for the light to turn green a truck flew right past him at 150 mph speeding past the red light, barely missing him by a few inches. Gyutaro felt his heart drop into his stomach as the pick up truck flew past him at such a high speed. He felt lucky to be alive but his heart was still pounding rapidly inside his chest and he couldn't help but feel so thankful that Ume wasn't with him and was safe at school. He couldn't help but feel resentful towards the driver in the truck who put his life in danger.

"that was too close" he muttered to himself thinking about what could've happened if that truck had hit him dead on. He could feel the flood of adrenaline coursing through his body as he let out a shaky breath, his hands shaking on his handlebars of his motorcycle.

As the light finally turns green Gyutaro sat and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before continuing his ride to work. Pulling up to his work and parking his bike, he sets off inside and starts getting the motorcycle shop ready for opening. Gyutaro spends the day working on various motorcycles, trying his best to focus on his work and not let his mind drift off to his own problems. It's not easy, but the physical labor somewhat helped keep his mind clear and helps him feel like he's accomplishing something in his life. As the day draws to a close, he finishes up and begins cleaning up the place getting it ready for closing. He felt exhausted after the long day, but he feels a sense of satisfaction from a job well done. Gyutaro finally arrives back home to find Ume passed out on the couch with cartoons playing on the tv. Sighing softly as he looks at her small form sleeping peacefully on the couch making him feel a sense of warmth and protectiveness flow over him. He grabs a blanket and carefully covers her, making sure she's comfortable before moving over to the remote and shutting off the tv. He heads to his room and changes into more comfortable clothing and sits at his laptop pulling it open to find a bunch of messages from the dating site. Opening up the site he looks through all of them just to see so much hate towards him again, not a single nice message was in sight and it caused his depression to spike, going through and blocking each one of them, feeling like he about had enough as his mood turns sour as he reads each one. The teasing and bashing was something he should be used to but each message had cut him so deep, hurting him so badly every time. A spiral of emotions tearing into him as he sat there wondering why nobody ever wanted to just give him at least one chance, and just look past his ugliness at all. Closing the site he decides to look at other things online to try and distract himself from all the bullshit, and negative thoughts that is pounding inside his head as the hurt, anger, and loneliness swarms him, lingering in the back of his mind, keeping him from being able to relax.

Though despite his best efforts to distract himself from it all, he finds himself unable to shake off every ounce of emotion pumping through him like a drug that's poisoning his mind and body, feeling trapped in a endless cycle of rejection, and loneliness unable to break away no matter how hard he tries. He sits there feeling so isolated, and unwanted by everyone and everything, taking in all his willpower to not break into tears and lash out.

Gyutaro spends the rest of the night feeling so lost in his thoughts and pain. Feelings that nothing will change for him and there's nothing he can do to make his situation better for himself. He can't help but feel tired and drained as he finally crawls into bed, feeling like tomorrow will just be another day of the same old routine. The emotions that are stirring within him finally over takes him making him feel like he's about to lose his mind, the hurt drowning him in depression and self hatred, he finally breaks apart fully, tears now soaking his face as the anger creeps in stronger then before. with tears pouring from his eyes, his hands covering them as the madness takes hold, hair nails now digging into his flesh on his face dragging them down leaving wounds upon himself that bled as he begins to yell out due to the overbearing hurt that was now to much for him. All the pain and and anger that is pouring out of him in torrent of tears and self-harm, hoping the physical pain would drown out and numb out all the hurt inside of him. As he screamed and cried out, he couldn't help but feel like giving up. The constant rejection and mockery he faced all cause of his appearance has really chipped away his self esteem, leaving him feeling like he isn't worthy of love or happiness. After awhile Ume comes into his room after being woken up by his screaming only to have her heart drop into her stomach, seeing her brother in tears and scratches painting his face from him scratching. Without another second she rushes to her brothers side and hugs onto him tightly trying to comfort him, to calm him with her embrace.

"Shhh it's okay brother, everything's okay, please relax everything's okay big brother" She says to him as his heart swells up as Ume holds onto him. The warmth of his sister's embrace sooths the pain he's in right now, hugging her back tightly, taking in big deep breaths trying to calm down from his high of pain. "it's nothing Ume, I'm just f-feeling a bit d-down.." He muttered not wanting to burden her with the full extent of his problems, but eventually he finds the courage to speak up to his little sister and tell her what's going on. "I just... I feel so alone, Ume.. It feels so hard, to keep going when it feels like nobody's ever going to love me." He admits with his voice breaking a bit as his tears wet her shoulder. "I love you big brother, I always will, you're the best brother i could ever ask for"

Her words had struck him harder then anything, to hear how much his sister loved him and cared for him so much was enough to smother his pain a bit despite the tears still being visible in his eyes. A couple weeks pass by and Gyutaro finally had a day off from work so he decides to take Ume to the park so she can go and play for awhile. He sits down on a bench while Ume played on the slides, swings, and so on. Pulling out his phone he sees many messages from that damn site again. Feeling a sense of dread wash over him as he sees all the messages from the dating site, now debating whether or not to read them, but something urges him to open it and face all the insults head on but was interrupted when you walked over and sat by him on the bench, pulling out your phone from your pocket. You were extremely cute with big doe hazel eyes, a nice figure, nice hair, everything. Gyutaro didn't have the confidence though to start a conversation knowing he's just gonna get hit with insults all over again. The feeling of anxiety taking hold, her beauty making him feel even more self-conscious about his own appearance. He does his best to ignore her, only paying attention to Ume's laughter and enjoyment along with the feeling of the sun on his skin. You look up from your phone, looking over at him as a small smile formed on your face.

"Um.. hey" You said to him while looking out at all the kids playing in the park. Gyutaro was completely taken aback when you spoke to him, making him feel shocked and nervous. He looks over at you, feeling his heart rate increase at the sight of your smile. "uh.. hi.... um what's up?"

He stammers a bit, feeling like his mouth is suddenly dried up. he tries to keep his cool and keep his tone casual, but he can feel himself getting tongue tied, hoping your different from the rest but he can't help but push those thoughts down not wanting to get his hopes up. "The sky" You respond back to him joking a little with a slight laugh. Gyutaro let's out a small chuckle as well at the small joke you made, feeling a smile forming on his face, while feeling a slight relief. He was grateful for the moment of levity, which managed to dispel some of the tension he's been feeling. He realizes now that you are trying to make conversation with him and decides to give it a chance, though he still feels nervous about it, worrying about rejection still."so uh... do you come here often or?" He asks trying to keep the conversation going between you two without getting to attached, not when he knows that he could be rejected at any moment. "nah not really, how about you? do you come here often?" You ask him, looking at him as he shakes his head no. He felt a bit embarrassed that he mostly spends all his time at work or at home with his little sister. "Not really, I usually work a lot or I'm usually busy with my sister so I don't get out much"

He admits feeling a bit self-conscious about how boring his life must sound right now to you, but he wasn't gonna pretend either just to impress some pretty girl either. "oh..." You reply going quiet for a moment thinking to yourself. "eh that's okay" Gyutaro felt a little bit of relief wash over him knowing you were a bit understanding of his situation. He knows he's not the most exciting person in the world, but he hopes that you'll find him interesting enough to keep talking to him. "yeah it's not so bad, I mean I like spending time with my little sister and all, but sometimes it would be nice to have someone else to talk to"

He says while glancing over at his sister again, feeling grateful for her presence but also feeling a little lonely. He's not used to striking up conversations with strangers, but he's trying to push himself out of his comfort zone. You raise a brow looking at him wondering something. "Are you lonely or something?" You ask him, watching him shift in his seat a little as he felt a bit uncomfortable at your direct question. His cheeks flush a bit red, feeling self-conscious about his loneliness. He wasn't used to being so vulnerable around strangers, but he does decide to be quite honest with you for some reason. "uh yeah, I guess you could say that" He shrugs his shoulders a little. "I mean I have my little sister but"

He trails off as he looks at all the people on the playground again, feeling a twinge of sadness rise up in his chest. You felt a bit sorry for him but also found him cute as well so you thought of something. "How about we go out sometime?" Your question had really caught him off guard. Gyutaro looked at you in absolute shock as he felt a surge of hope at your words, not quite believing if he had heard you correctly or not. His heart skips its beat inside his chest, nervousness grasping his throat as he got choked up a little bit. "Really? you would want to go out with me?' He asks feeling a little incredulous. He quickly composes himself, not wanting to come off as desperate or eager.

"I mean, sure, that sounds great, uh when were you thinking?" As he asks feeling nervous about this whole thing. A faint blush spreads across your face as you begin to speak. "Are you free tomorrow night?" Gyutaro feels his own cheeks flush as he notices your blush on your face, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. Maybe this is his chance, his opportunity to break out of his shell and finally experience what he's been wanting for so long now. "Uh yeah, tomorrow night works for me!" He says, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies he feels in his stomach. "did you have a specific place in mind?

"there's a nice restaurant called kozue we can go to" Your smile never fades as you continue to talk with him. "oh I never asked what's your name by the way?" You felt a bit silly not asking him for his name earlier in the conversation. Gyutaro smiles felling a bit happy for once right now, he also couldn't help but feel so excited as well while hearing your suggestion. He could not believe his luck either, was this really happening to him?. "My names gyutaro and yours?" He responds while extending his hand to shake yours. "My name is Y/N". You shake his hand with a nice smile. "nice to meet you" He responds trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, not wanting to scare you off with his eagerness. He just can't help but feel like he's on cloud nine in this moment right now. Your mom soon pulls up to pick you up and you get a message from her stating that she was there. You get up off the bench, and as you do Gyutaro gets a bit worried for a second as you stand up looking at your phone until you put it in your pocket. "my rides here... do you have a phone?". He looks at you a bit confused as to why your asking him that, but he's to excited to and decides to hand it to you without thinking to much about it. You take his phone and put something into it before handing it back and waving at him goodbye as you walk to your moms car. Gyutaro felt a bit disappointed as you left until he looked down at his phone and seen that you had put your number in his phone which spikes up his excitement as he can't wait to see you tonight.

[thedevilsoftruth]

Tomorrow: Shane's Journal

I had this idea for a long time, and that idea was to write 5 journal entries going through important time stamps of Shane's life. These entries are written through the lens of Shane himself, almost as if he actually wrote them. Nothing stated in here is 100% cannon. These are all simply headcanons I have of Shane and his life, and i hope you all enjoy it!

For clarity, I think Stardew takes place in 2016, given that's when it was released, and i also hc Shane to be 35, so he was born in 1981 in this fic. A little bit random, but that's just something to chew on.

Tw: This fic goes over very sensitive topics such as suicide, mentions of self-harm, shootings, depression, alcohol addiction, childhood trauma, and a lot of Atheism.

◇◇◇

September 8th, 1996

Hey god, if you're listening, why are you doing this to me? I've tried and tried and tried all I could, all day, every day. No matter what people threw at me, I still fucking took it because I didn't want to end up being a dead beat like my stupid fucking father. I'm sorry. I'm angry. What's the point of fucking living if everyday I'm in goddamn pain, and If all my nights are spent sleepless as I sob? I've prayed and prayed and prayed for things to get better, but nothing is getting better, and I want to die. The only thing good in my life right now is my gridball team. My parents don't fucking love me, I'm a failure to everyone I know. I'm starting to think this world would be better off without me.

God, please, help me. Guide me to a newfound happiness, please. I can't go on like this anymore. I want to have hope, I need to have hope. It's what Marnie tells me every day. But I can't if things continue to go to shit. Well, im going to lie down now. Tomorrow is a new day... right?

- Shane .H

September 10th, 1996

You're a liar, you're a fucking liar. Screwed up, fucked up, arrogant, selfish liar. I was blind to your lies, deceived by the promised hope of a good life, and yet you took my hope and smashed it against the wall. I hate you. I hate all of you. I want to cut myself and die as I bleed out.

Everyone is turning against me. Ethan wasn't there for me when I told him to stay outside my aunt's house last night. My mother tried to kill me last night, and my father wouldn't dare to bat an eye at me. I don't know what I fucking did to deserve this. Mom hurt Marnie. Everyone was screaming, I felt like my ears were going to bleed. I ran away. Mom tried to throw a knife at me, so I ran away. Ethan got me high before that and was supposed to stay outside of Marnies ranch for me incade anything happened, but he fled afterward.

They had told me they didn't want me at Marnies house anymore when they were gone. But I couldn't stop myself. They hadn't been home in a week, and I needed comfort. They are always fucking gone they are always never home or.... used to not always be home.

I stayed at Micheal's house last night. I went back to Marnie's this morning. My parents killed themselves an hour after I left. They did it in front of Marnie, and she couldn't do anything to stop them. They wouldn't listen to her. Marine is going to be my guardian. We're going to make frequent trips to Zuzu city for our therapy sessions.

I don't think I'll be going back to school. I hate myself. I hate my life. My parents died because of me. I wasn't a good son, I never was. Maybe if I had been better and didn't get high, sneak out, or get bad grades all the time, they would have loved me. But if there's anything I hate the most at the moment other than myself, it's you, God.

- Shane .H

November 27th, 2010

I thought I was getting better. I thought things were going to be okay. I haven't taken therapy since I was 20. I'm gonna need it after today because I'm having the biggest downward spiral since 1996. I started to believe again. I started to read the Bible and pray because things were getting better, but all of this shit coming back to me tells me that there is no God up in the sky. It's a joke. A stupid dumb lie that innocent people like myself get mind-fucked into believing is real. But it's not. It's a load of fucking shit.

God took away everything that I have ever loved in my entire life and hollowed out my soul until I was nothing, and left me with stupid fucking priorities that I can't fucking handle! I didn't want a child. Not now, not ever. This child isn't mine. How am I supposed to fucking provide for her, if I'm working 9 hours a godamn week at a fucking grocery store? Damn it. Damn it all to hell.

One second, I'm at a fair with my two best friends i haven't seen in years who are parents now, the other second they're killed in a shooting and I'm stuck with their fucking kid!

I don't want this, I don't fucking want this at all. Kill me, please, God. I can't even write this with how shaky my fucking hands are. I wish I never crossed paths with Micheal, even if it's been 12 years since I've seen him. I can't do this. I can't go on anymore. Tell me one reason why I shouldn't put a bullet in my head like my fucking parents did?! Fuck you, and fuck your stupid fucking cult, and fuck your beliefs, and fuck it all!!!

- Shane .H

December 23rd, 2016

I love you, Marnie. I love you, Jas. I love you, Michael and Alejandra. I love you, Mom and Dad. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm a failure. All I've ever done to you all was bring you pain. I'm a dead beat. I don't deserve your kindness or your patience. I'm a fat, alcohol addicted, low-life, dick face who's never made any achievement in life. I can't even get myself out of bed in the morning. I black out almost every night from drinking too much. I could never get a good job here in the fucking town.

My life has brought me nothing but pain. Nobody wants someone lin their life who can't even do something as simple as brushing their teeth.. I'm nothing but a mere parasite, eating away at people's lives.

I'm sorry, im sorry, I'm sorry, but today is the day.

You won't have to deal with me anymore, and I can finally be free from this never-ending hell.

Goodbye, world.

- Shane .H

December 23rd, 2018

2 years. I've been sober for 2 years now.

On this day, two years ago, I tried to end my life. I almost drank myself to death, but a farmer noticed me near the cliff and supported me. They brought me to a hospital, and I went back to Zuzu city to try therapy again. It's still embarrassing when I think about it. Those memories don't make me nearly as sad anymore, I just get... kind of embarrassed. It's like... wow, I was like that? What an asshole, hehe.

Well, my sobriety isn't the only thing I'm proud of.

Jas is eight years old now! I finally saved up enough to move out of Marnies and into the city. I got a new job, and I have a cousin here who is watching over Jas during the day after she comes home from school. She has a lot of friends now and is boy crazy... oh dear, I still don't like the thought of that. My hours aren't the best, but it makes me money and keeps a roof over our heads. I work on service tech. I didn't know I liked cars so much, haha! Everyone there is really cool and nice, and it's helped me with coming out of my shell a little bit.

On holidays, me and Jas go back to Stradew Valley to see Marnie. We have frequent calls with her, and I also make sure to pay the farmer a visit. Jas and I bake them cookies as a thanks for literally saving my life. Sometimes she eats them in the car...

Well, anyway, I start work in a little bit. Just wanted to let everything all out. Today is a new day, after all.

- Shane .H

[doublel27]

Honestly a little surprised that you are "not mad" that Carlos didn't tell TK this huge secret in all the time they've been together. Especially after the way he acted about TK and his sponsor. Yeah the set-up for this storyline was non-existant and that's bad writing, but also, Carlos's complete lack of remorse and TK's complete lack of a reaction to the news makes me feel like I'm watching pod people. Is TK gunning for sainthood? Even if the set-up was there the way they handled the reveal just makes no sense.

Look, this is a man who spent four-six months of a break up lying to his parents about the break up and the fact that they weren’t living together anymore in a time period that included major holidays AND TK’s birthday.

He hates confrontation (I have a whole meta on it) and his anxiety is like for real bad (therapy Carlos my love please)

This is not new or news.

I’m going to detour (but bring it back around): this morning I was catching up on the Drama Queen’s podcast and they were discussing a storyline in which a half a married couple admits he’s lied by omission and his wife was physically injured due to this lie. And Sophia Bush (my angel, my love) brought up how as a person with severe anxiety (like me and Carlos and the queen herself) learns from a very young age to not bring their anxiety and worries to other people but to feel that they have to have a solution to the problem before they let others in.

The need to have an solution ready before he loops anyone else in is a VERY common behavior in Carlos. We see it from season one through season three. This is an area of growth for him.

Do I believe Carlos should have told TK long ago: yes.

Is this a flaw in Carlos’s character: absolutely

Does TK have every right to be pissed and hurt: most certainly.

But it’s Carlos turn to do the growing. We’ve gotten three seasons of TK’s character development arc start with a failed proposal in the series premiere and end with a successful proposal in the season three finale. TK’s ability not to immediately internalize this as Carlos thinking he was too fragile to handle this news and recognizing that Carlos has been drowning in his anxiety and guilt and shame over this and THAT is why he didn’t say anything, is outstanding and amazing and WHY Tarlos works. They take turns being the messy one.

So no, I’m not mad with Carlos. I don’t think not telling TK with the depth of guilt and shame and Carlos’s history of conflict avoidance is out of character. I do not blame others for being mad at Carlos and TK definitely has every right to surface his mad about this later after processing and when Carlos isn’t on an anxiety spiral.

I said it last season and I will say it again this season: we are watching two men with two different manifesting mental health issues navigate a relationship. They’re both doing their best but they will still hurt each other in the process of doing their best. Sometimes their best isn’t enough.

That’s marriage, kids, especially when you throw in depression, anxiety, substance abuse, internalized homophobia, and stressful jobs.

[astarionmademewriteit]

The Lovers

Spawn!Astarion x Durge f!Tav x Halsin (Minor role)

Cycles between Astarion and Tav POV

Rating: Mature themes (No smut)

Wordcount: 9.4k (Long one-shot)

Tags: Many many Act 3 spoilers, violent images, torture, self-loathing, depression, refusing to eat, eluding to SA, codependency, hurt/comfort, angst, blood drinking, injuries, brief mentions of sex (if you squint). If I missed a tag, let me know.

Summary: What started as a great day at the Circus of the Last Days ends with Astarion gaining insight from a fortune teller into his future as the ascendant vampire and Tav as Bhaal’s chosen. Astarion decides to face Cazador alone and keeps it a secret from Tav–slipping into the night and leaving only a small note. Halsin is there, promising to watch over Tav. However, Tav suffers in his absence (sometimes lashing out at Halsin), but Astarion knows it is better than the alternative–their collective demise and the loss of love.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ Astarion POV *̥˚✧

The Circus of the Last Days was teeming with excitement and laughter, children with face paint ran rampant through the grounds, weaving through the stalls where merchants yelled at passersby looking to make a pretty copper. Other stalls tried to sell the promise of financial abundance with the spin of a wheel, but it was all too easy for me to see they were rigged to steal money from the pockets of the idiotic. Their tactful manipulation is reminiscent of the days I spent as Cazador’s puppet, luring people in with the luxury of pleasure beyond their wildest imaginations.

It was not a bad business strategy, to be sure. But stealing straight from the pockets of the unaware was a quicker solution to our financial needs. I look towards Tav, watching the way her eyes scanned the crowd with quiet excitement. A smile plays on my lips. After all the danger we have faced, the chaotic nature of our adventures has not dimmed the light in her eyes–the happiness that paints her aura in such beautiful vibrant colors.

I wish the same could be said for myself. I can practically feel the looming shadow of the Szarr palace on the horizon, its threatening presence taunting me at every turn–reminding me of the centuries of pain, torment, and abuse Cazador subjected me to. My fists tighten, and I try to steady my breathing lest I spiral into a dark and violent rage–revenge feeding the anger that once laid dormant in the pit of my stomach. I can almost feel the sting of his blade carving his infernal contract into my back, blood slipping from my back in blooming rivulets where steel meets flesh. I grind my teeth at the memory.

“Astarion, look!” Tav squeals with childish glee snapping me out of my tortured reverie. Murderous as she was, her innocent nature overrode her violent tendencies in this moment. Her bloodlust replaced by the overwhelming need to momentarily forget our places in the world–the parts we were meant to play. I follow her gaze and spot a fortune teller’s tent nestled between two stalls selling enchanted jewelry and exotic furs, their claims of authenticity are laughable. To the untrained eye, one would easily fall for such fraudulent claims, but I knew better. Honestly, how this group would survive without my expertise was beyond me.

Tav closes the distance between us and looks up at me with rounded eyes and a pouty lip, “We should try it!” My mouth twitches, threatening to split my face in two. 

“Darling,” I warn playfully, “Need I remind you that half these booths are wasteful ventures that we should avoid? We might as well throw our money in the garbage. Besides,” I drag a knuckle down her jawline to the base of her throat, “I’m the only one who should be draining you dry.” My words have their desired effect, her skin flushing–the smell of her blood carried on the warm breeze wafts to my nostrils. The elation I feel from her scent alone makes my mouth water.

A sharp raspy voice cuts through our moment, “You. Vampire.” I snap my head towards the fortune teller’s tent, a wrinkled decrepit woman leers at me with glassy eyes. Her long robes draped to the ground and her back is hunched painfully behind her, diminishing her height by at least a foot.

“In the flesh,” I bow sarcastically in her direction. Uncertainty washes through my entire body  and I feel Tav stiffen at my side.

“We have much to discuss regarding your future,” She murmurs, her voice grates my ears in the most unpleasant ways.

I sneer, “I doubt you have anything worthwhile to spew, hag,” I growl coldly. I wasn’t about to fall for her thieving tricks. Our gold would be better spent elsewhere.

She wheezes out a laugh, “You will pay a heftier price without my help.” It’s as if she has read my mind. Probably just another party trick meant to lure people into spending money they do not have. However, something tugs at the back of my mind–warning me that she is true to her word.

Halsin moves to my side and places a burly hand on my shoulder, the weight only adding to my own doubts, “Hear the woman out, my heart,” he whispers, “I sense no deception from her.” Tav is nodding her head in agreement, her eyes wide with apprehension and anxiety, and I groan at their collective consensus. It was almost annoying having two people intent on drowning me with their unconditional care. Almost.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, I finally give in, “Fine, my dears,” I huff unenthusiastically, “But I expect to be showered in apologies when I come back empty-handed,” I roll my eyes.

 Halsin chuckles behind me, “Don't worry, my Star. Everything will be alright.”

“We'll be here, waiting for you,” Tav says on my other side, giving me a reassuring squeeze on the arm and a light kiss on the cheek.

I gulp and swallow my pride before entering the witch's tent. Incense wafts through the air, sending tendrils of smoke curling to the sky. Various charms hang from the walls and the shelves are littered with trinkets, tomes, and dead creatures in jars of liquid. It is all very pedestrian.

“Spawn,” the hag’s grotesque voice rings through the air snapping me out of my reverie, “Save your judgements for the future,” she gestures at an empty chair across from her, divided by a small table with a crystal ball centered in the middle. Her consistent peek into my thoughts was unnerving but not unexplainable considering the wall of potions seated behind her against the back of the tent. She most likely used a mind-reading potion. It felt more invasive than a stake in the ribs, to be fair.

I cautiously take a seat across from the hag, impatience brimming on my tongue, “Let’s just get this little performance over with.” I roll my eyes and take a relaxed pose, watching the hag expectantly.

“I can assure you, dear Astarion, that this is no performance,” she pins me down with her glassy stare, “Devils whisper in my ear, speaking of your demise. I rather think you should hear me out.”

Her words sway me slightly, the promise of a devil should not be heeded lightly, nor the promise of one’s demise. I huff exasperatingly, “Fine, spin me your tale of the future.”

She smiles lightly before fishing in the pockets of her robe, pulling out an ambiguous vial of clear liquid and reaching across the table, offering the strange elixir with an open palm, “Drink and we may begin.”

I eye the vial cautiously, a putrid smell wafts through the air, promising bitterness on the tongue. I snatch the vial from her hand and drink before I can change my mind. I am doing this for Tav and Halsin if nothing else. The bitter liquid slides down my throat with ease, souring my stomach immediately. Warmth immediately washes over me, rivaling the warmth I feel when drinking from the necks of my partners. 

My head begins to swim as magic rolls through my body in thick undulating waves, threatening to pull me under. I steady myself, gripping the side of the table in front of me for support as I ride out the arcane sensation. 

“Peer into the crystal ball, Astarion,” the witch commands, “I have much to reveal.”

I focus my eyes on the object in front of me, the crystal ball that was once clear suddenly swims with visions too quick for me to latch on to. The dizzying effects of the elixir begin to subside ever so slightly, and the images in the crystal ball begin to slow, flashing images of Cazador carving scars into my back with agonizing precision. I wince at the memories, feeling the sharp pain of torture carving into my back.

“Your former master, Cazador, has made an infernal pact with a devil it seems,” the hag rasps pragmatically.

“Yes, yes,” I huff through gritted teeth, ignoring the searing pain of my scars, “I already know he plans to complete the Rite of Profane Ascension. Tell me something I don’t know.” I ball my hands into fists, wishing to forget the torture Cazador put me through that night and willing away other, darker thoughts of being sequestered in a tomb–a year of darkness and pathetic attempts of escape.

The image of my scars reflected in the crystal ball dissipate and are replaced by images of my former targets–people I willingly lured to Cazador in the hopes that he would not punish me again, but instead finding new forms of punishment through using my body in ways that I would never have consented to if I hadn’t been chained to his power. Something is different about the victims that stare at me through the curved glass, their eyes are blood-red now, familiar scars mark their bodies, and they suffer behind gilded bars under the Szarr palace.

“Your targets still breathe, newly changed, serving as a blood sacrifice. Seven thousand souls writhe beneath the floors, facing their inevitable death.”

“T-they’re alive? But–how?” I manage to sputter, utterly bewildered by the information and the painful reality that has just been set before me. They have suffered decades–no, centuries–beneath the palace. I thought they were dead. They should be dead. But–why? Then the truth hits me like a ton of bricks. Their souls will be exchanged for his ascension. Not just seven spawn, but seven thousand souls. It takes all my strength to keep from collapsing onto the floor in anguish. This cannot be happening. Cazador has played me for such a fool. Anger wells in my chest and I have to restrain myself from throwing the crystal ball across the room.

“Control yourself, spawn” the hag eyes me cautiously, “the truth of your future has yet to be revealed.”

I suddenly feel as if I want to empty all the contents of my stomach onto the floor as the bitter taste of the elixir dances across my tongue. What more could there possibly be? Was I even prepared to face it?

Before I have time to decide, the images shift yet again. A vague shape takes form, and the person in the crystal ball stares back at me with a familiar gaze. It takes me a moment to realize that I am looking at myself, but it only feels like a stranger staring back at me. Tav enters the frame and stands next to me, a worried expression painted across her features. My eyes look crazed and hungry for something more. I look at the hag for clarity, but she urges me to keep watching.

The images shift again, and I am standing over Cazador’s bruised body. He cowers below me as I grip a dagger in my hand. Suddenly, I am barking orders directed at Tav, pleading with her to connect our tadpoles so that I can copy the scars from my back into Cazador’s flesh.

Relief washes over me as I realize that everything I have been fighting for would be worth it if my future promised my own ascension in my former master’s place. His body, the bodies of my brothers and sisters, and the targets I lured to the palace disintegrate into ashy piles as power flows through my body, centered in the middle of the bloody Black Mass. Revenge never looked so sweet.

“Do not forget yourself, Astarion,” the hag breaks me from my concentrated stare, “You will lose your soul too.”

I take a moment before answering, “That is not an unreasonable transaction, especially if it means I become powerful enough to protect myself and the ones I care about. Nobody would harm me ever again,” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest, the tension from earlier melting away as I sit with this new reality.

The witch eyes me wearily before continuing, “You seem so concerned with protecting Tav from danger, but who will protect her from you?” She waves her hand over the crystal ball, willing the previous images of the ritual away and replacing them with images of Tav. Her vermillion eyes are illuminated, watching me with practiced reverence. Puncture wounds scar her neck, and her movements are sharper and more precise. So, she would allow me to turn her if it meant spending eternity with me. A small smirk plays on my lips.

“I hardly see how her becoming a vampire is any consolation,” I bark with renewed arrogance.

“Not a vampire,” the hag replies sharply, “a spawn. Forever a slave–bending to your will.”

I brush off her remark, “I would never treat her as Cazador treated me. Do not act like you know the first thing about me.” 

An amused grin pulls at the corners of her crusted lips, “Your soul says that now, but do not forget that you sacrifice that and so much more by choosing this path.”

I roll my eyes and focus on the crystal ball once again. Reflecting back at me are the same eyes I’ve come to adore, but now they look pained and resentful as they stare back at me. I falter momentarily, and if my heart were still alive, it would die all over again.

“W-well,” I stammer, back-pedaling slightly, “I’m sure the power dynamic would be…unsavory. But I’m confident Tav would still find it in her heart to love me,” I whisper, trying to convince myself rather than the hag. I continue to watch as darkness shrouds the eyes of my beloved and I begin to feel less sure of myself with every passing second. 

“A vampire’s greatest threat is another vampire,” the hag recites, mirroring the words I uttered not long ago, “The love you have cultivated will be nothing more than ash in your mouth,” she warns.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat but remain silent. “You will set Tav down a dark path of her own should you choose to ascend,” her words do not falter at this admission, and I know she speaks the truth.

As if to solidify her words, the images shift yet again. Now Tav stands before the bloodied walls of Bhaal’s underground temple, Orin dead at her feet. She is faced with an avatar of her father, and she kneels before him accepting her fate as his chosen. The promise of carnage and violence flits through her eyes as she transforms into a grotesque slayer, her features warped by the bloodied maw of the beast, all emotion siphoned from her eyes as murderous intent envelopes her completely. 

All words on my tongue fall away as I stare at all she has become–everything she has valiantly resisted now a distant memory…an empty promise that echoes of slaughter. “She..” I choke out the words, “She accepts her fate as Bhaal’s chosen if I ascend?” I peered up at the hag, wishing I could wipe the smugness from her wrinkled face. 

“Truly a terrifying couple,” she rasps, “reviled by all… and resented by one another.” 

I look down in shock as the images twist grotesquely into a new picture. My powers wash through Tav’s body, forcing her to act against her will. I force myself to watch, even though I wish very badly to tear my eyes from the horrible images. Tav grips a dagger, hanging still in the air as if frozen in time, inches away from piercing my heart... So, I will drive her to murderous rage, so much so that she would willingly kill me. The love that once hung between us is now non-existent as hate fills her eyes.

So, this is what's to come… Unimaginable power at the expense of my soul… Tav’s soul… and the budding love that lies between us. The promise of death and murder the last thread tying us together.

I stare dumbfounded as the new revelation washes over me, more powerful than Cazador’s power imbuing me with his will. 

“This cannot be…” I whisper, my hands trembling at my sides. My body racks with pain as I continue to watch. The bloody future unfolds before me as our bodies lay lifeless beside one another. Our inevitable demise ends at the hands of one another, effectively destroying the trust and mutual care we have built together… between each other. The images fade to black, leaving a deep-seated wound in my heart.

“This,” the hag gestures towards the now empty crystal ball, “is to be your fate, if you so choose.”

I sit frozen, too stunned to speak. Tears threaten to flood my eyes and anger washes through my body with agonizing intensity. “Why,” I ask through gritted teeth, “Why show me all this?” My words now sting with acid, “Why, help me?” I stand suddenly, knocking the table off kilter. 

The hag grabs the crystal ball before it has a chance to shatter on the floor. A part of me wishes it had, as if that would undo the future it laid before me. She eyes me sternly before reaching into her robes once again and retrieving a card. She hands it to me, and I reach out and snatch it from her hands, letting anger control my limbs.

The card is decorated with a kaleidoscope of colors and gold foil, its design is ostentatious and obtrusive. I flip it over to find an image of two bodies romantically entwined and the phrase “The Lovers” embellished along the bottom. I look at the hag, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Because…” she says after a moment of contemplation, “I wish someone had extended the same courtesy to me when I was younger.”

I simply stared at her, half wondering what she had experienced to end up in a place like this. I lower the card on the table and turn to leave. I hover just before the exit and turn my head, “This… is a gift you know. I will never forget it.” I drop a satchel of gold on a nearby table before exiting the tent without another word, steeling myself to face Tav.

Should I tell her? I think it would be unwise, but guilt wracks my body as I see the look of pure love that adorns her face when she catches sight of me. Her features are now covered in face paint, and I cannot hide my own amusement. But it feels shallow, the weight of my future encumbers me and every step I take towards Tav…every second I look into her beautiful eyes is just another reminder of what she could become–of what I would enable. 

I slip into my charming facade, choosing to hide the looming threat that hangs over my shoulders like a wraith clings to the shadows. 

“Astarion!” Tav squeals excitedly, “What did she tell you?” Her body shivers with anticipation, and she hops enthusiastically on her heels as she waits patiently for my reply.

“Nothing of note, really,” I wave her off nonchalantly, “Just the usual propaganda a lonely wench spouts hoping to siphon money from her visitors.”

“Oh,” Tav looks down, disappointed, “Like what?”

“Finding love,” I say, lifting her chin with the tip of my finger. Her eyes find mine and light up at the prospect, “Accruing unimaginable wealth and happiness if I follow my dreams. That sort of thing,” the lie falls easily from my lips and I scold myself internally for resorting to shallow lies, especially where Tav is concerned. We have built a bond based on trust and consent. I have already tainted that bond by withholding the truth, depriving her of her right to know what the future holds.

I try to push down the guilt that rips through me, more painful than any injury I have sustained on our road to Baldur’s Gate thus far–and there were times I was close to death. But this pain is incomparable. Self-loathing starts to creep its way through my very bones, threatening to shatter my carefully rehearsed mask.

“Uh, darling” I say carefully, “I’m suddenly not feeling well. Perhaps we should head back to camp.”

Tav eyes me warily. I’m almost certain she knows that I am hiding something–her attunement to my many masks have sharpened over the months and I silently curse myself for being so predictable at this moment. 

If she suspects anything, she makes no mention of it but agrees that we should head back to camp. Halsin promises to fashion some sort of tincture to soothe whatever ails me and I acquiesce, trying to widen the berth between me and their suspicion. 

Back at camp I withdraw into my tent, pacing the small enclosure reminiscing on the words spoken by the witch. I was filled with dread and wracked with guilt. Tav's unconditional loyalty towards me would be nothing but a tool of manipulation I would use to seek power that I now realize should never belong to me, no matter how intensely I craved it as a means of protection. 

I could be up front with Tav, but I knew she would urge me to face Cazador with her by my side–always the hero. The promise of power would be too much to turn down, like a shiny hook baiting a fish. Tav’s loyalty and unbreakable need to please me would prove an easy avenue for manipulation–something that would surely end with our inevitable demise. I couldn’t put myself in a position to force her hand, and I absolutely could not put Tav in a position to accept her own dark fate. Her love was the first good thing to happen to me in the centuries since I became a vampire, and it could be undone so easily. I could not let that happen, even if it meant facing Cazador alone.

It was the only way.

“Astarion,” Tav’s sweet voice filters through the tent, breaking me from my thoughts. She pulls back the flap of my tent after a moment and looks at me with caution in her eyes.

“Yes, my dear?” I slip back into my easy facade, knowing full well what needs to be done.

She closes the distance between us, careful not to touch me without permission. Always the astute observer. I smile softly at her, trying to repress the memories of her deadened eyes as they looked at me with resentment. That was not her. It would not be us.

“H-how are you feeling?” She shifts nervously, fully aware that something weighs heavy on my mind.

“Honestly? I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed. Arriving in Baldur’s Gate has stirred some… unpleasant memories.” It wasn’t a complete lie, just an omission of the entire truth.

“I understand,” She whispers carefully, “I’ll always be here when you need me. You won’t face this alone.” Determination fills her eyes and I know she wholeheartedly believes the words she speaks. I do too. 

“Thank you, my love,” I whisper after a moment, my words painted with sincere gratitude. I don’t expect her to forgive me for what I’m about to do. But it is the only way I can protect her. I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She gives me the strength to do the right thing.

Tav turns to leave but stops short and looks over her shoulder, “You can feed on me tonight, if you like.” My breath hitches in my throat. My attempt at selflessness falls short as she offers herself so freely to me. I knew it would be selfish of me to accept, knowing that I would vanish from camp while she unknowingly slept. But it could also be my best chance at surviving the encounter with Cazador. Would she forgive me if I made it out alive?

“I-I’ll…okay my dear,” my mask falters momentarily, “I’ll see you tonight. Thank you.” I bow my head with gratitude as she exits the tent.

As I wait for the sun to set, I fill my time with mindless reading around the campfire, searching through various texts that might provide useful information for the fight to come. I sift through a particularly dull tome when something falls from between the pages, fluttering to the ground like a feather being shed from a bird.

For a moment I look at the object, completely bewildered by what lay at my feet. I reach down and pick up the card. The words “The Lovers” are inscribed across the bottom edge. The witch’s tarot card stares back at me as if to taunt me. “What in the nine hells,” I whisper to myself.

“What’s the matter, my heart?” Halsin’s booming voice echoes behind me, and I spin on my heels, quickly tucking the card in my pocket.

“Oh Halsin! My dear, you startled me,” I laugh nervously, “Actually, there’s something I need to confess. I trust you will understand and assist me in this one thing.” Although our relationship is newer, I trusted Halsin with my life, and Tav’s life. I know he will watch over her while I am away–however long that might be. Hopefully not forever.

“Of course,” Halsin’s face softens, “I shall lend you an ear.”

I pull Halsin to my tent discreetly, eyeing Tav across camp as she accompanies Gale while he cooks.

I quickly relay all that the witch showed me, Halsin’s face falling with concern when I deliver the horrid news. A small weight was lifted from my shoulders at the confession.

“That is concerning,” Halsin whispers, “How are you feeling?” he reaches out and caresses my cheek tenderly.

I laugh sarcastically, “Not well, as you might imagine. That is why I need you to watch over Tav while I slip out of camp and face Cazador alone.” The weight of my words causes Halsin to still.

“Astarion,” his voice shaky, “You’re certain this is the only way? What if–” his sentence dies on his lips, too difficult to utter the very words that haunt me as well.

“I have to try,” I whisper after a moment, “Even if it means I won't make it back,” speaking the words aloud suddenly makes them feel real. It was a possibility I would die and Cazador succeeded in completing the ritual. But I was out of options.

“Tav will be devastated,” Halsin’s concerned tone washes over me, only adding to my fears.

“Yes, well,” I laugh nervously, “It is better than the alternative. I am sure you would agree.” I pause before continuing, knowing the next part will be difficult for him to swallow, “She cannot know where I’ve gone–this is important, Halsin. She will follow me, and all of this will be for naught. It’s… for her own good.”

After quiet contemplation Halsin agrees, “ She will not see it that way, Astarion, but I promise to do as you say, my Star. But you must make it back to us. A world without you would be unjust,” his voice breaks. I slip him a folded note and instruct him to give it to Tav once she notices my absence.

I smile and pull him in close, placing a soft kiss on his lips. His arms wrap around me protectively–an unsaid goodbye passes between us. I pull away before I can change my mind.

“Thank you, Halsin. I will not forget what you have done for us,” I nod before exiting the tent. There was nothing left to say.

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✧*̥˚ Tav POV *̥˚✧

I search among our companions for Astarion. He has been particularly aloof this evening and I could not ignore the concern as it flooded through my veins. I knew that arriving on the doorstep of Baldur’s Gate would be difficult for him, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that he was avoiding me. If he wanted his space, I would respectfully take a step back while he sorted through his feelings, but I couldn't help but worry that he was spiraling into a dark void that would be impossible to pull him from. At what point do I step in? I tread a fragile line–one that could potentially cross over into territory that I wished to avoid at all costs if I wanted to carefully respect his boundaries.

Even still, something awful churned in my stomach–a sense of foreboding tugged at the recesses of my mind. I’ve learned to trust my intuitive nature. My life training in the Temple of Bhaal sharpened my instincts into a fine point that rivaled the very daggers we equipped ourselves with. However, even years of honing my mind will not assist in revealing what darkness lingers on the horizon, until it has fallen upon me. It’s blinding disruption, a promise that haunts me. If only it would reveal itself before it’s too late.

I look up to the sky, its domed shape spattered with twinkling stars, heckling me with false hope. If any gods could hear my silent prayers, they showed no sign of acknowledgement. Praying was a trivial pursuit, but it felt right in this moment, even if they went unanswered. I know not what lies ahead, but I knew it was not good. 

“Quite the sight,” Astarion whispers from behind me, mirroring the hollow words he once spoke in the first few nights of our meeting. I spin around to find his vermillion eyes watching me with a careful expression, “You, I mean.” He whispers, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I let out a breathy laugh, relief washing over me as his presence pulls me away from the impending dread that inhabits my body.

He opens his arms invitingly, ushering me into his cool embrace. I gladly comply, welcoming the feel of his body against mine. His arms wrap around my waist and pull me in tight, threatening to never let go.

“I missed you,” I whispered in his ear.

“I haven’t gone anywhere, darling,” he laughs quietly.

“I know. But every moment that I am away from you is more agonizing than the last.” His body stiffens at my truthful words and panic begins to settle in the pit of my stomach. I hope I haven't crossed a line. “Sorry,” I amend quickly, “I just enjoy your company.”

He pulls away, but keeps his arms firmly wrapped around my waist, his smile is soft, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “You know I enjoy your company as well, darling. I fear I wouldn’t survive without it.” There was some underlying meaning to his words, but before I could inquire further, he pulled me in for a kiss.

I lace my fingers through his ivory curls–his touch melting away all the tension that burdened me only a moment before. His kiss steadily grows hungrier, his tongue slipping between my lips as he sought out my own. He sighs against me as our tongues slide against one another.

All too soon he pulls away, planting small kisses along my jaw and down my throat. The reverence laced in his kisses leave small confessions against my flesh.

“I’m going to turn in early tonight, my dear,” he whispers against my skin in between small kisses.

“Alright,” I whisper shakily, “Are you forgoing dinner tonight?”

His lips halt against my throat and he inhales deeply before pulling away and looking into my eyes with a worried expression, as if internally warring with himself.

“I–no,” he whispers after a moment, tearing his gaze away from me with a guilty expression. My deep-seated curiosity takes hold as I watch a wash of emotions cross his face, “I would like that very much.”

“O-okay,” I whisper suspiciously. 

Before I can ask what burdens him, he pulls me to my tent and patiently waits for me to lie comfortably on my bedroll. What ensues feels less intimate than usual, and more of a formality. I let my questions die on my lips, chalking up his rigidity to the earlier confession he laid at my feet when I had visited him in his tent. I only wished he were comfortable and happy. He laps eagerly at the blood he pulls from my veins, taking his fill.

Once he was finished, he placed reassuring kisses along the puncture wounds that marked my  throat as his. The camp had fallen quiet outside my tent, my companions choosing to rest their weary eyes on this early evening. 

“Do you mind if I linger, until you find rest,” Astarion asks, a glimpse of vulnerability flashes across his sharp features.

“I would love nothing more,” I whisper, relieved. I quickly change into my bedclothes, Astarion’s eyes lingering on my form as I slip into something more comfortable. 

I slide into my bedroll and Astarion pulls me in close, nuzzling his head into the crook of my shoulder. I wrap my arms tightly around him, lazily running my fingers through his silver curls with one hand and tracing words into the cold flesh of his back with the other, careful not to touch his sensitive scars.

“I could stay like this forever,” I admit into his well-manicured curls, his scent comforting me beyond reprieve. 

Astarion lets out a tortured groan and holds me tighter, “Me too,” he finally confesses, “Me too, my love.”

His embrace eventually lulls me into a deep, dreamless slumber. His proximity stirred a deep sense of comfort within me that only reveals itself when he is near. 

I did not feel as he carefully slipped into the night.

Beams of sunlight filter through the tent, bathing me in its gilded illumination. I wipe the sleep from my eyes, rolling over reaching out for Astarion. My hand lands on the empty bedroll. I frown, wishing he had stayed through the night.

Something savory wafts through the air and I can hear the sizzle of meat in a pan over the fire. Even as the inviting aroma assaults my senses, something stirs in the morning air. The camp is unusually quiet. By now, I should hear the excited lilt of Karlach’s voice–she was always a morning person. I should hear Gale delighting in telling stories of Waterdeep. I should hear Lae’zel sharpening her weapons, or Shadowheart reprimanding someone for being too reckless during battle. At the very least I should hear Astarion, his voice dripping with disdain at the breakfast we gorge ourselves on each morning, or the playful complaints of our current accommodations–sleeping in the dirt like commoners when there was a perfectly accommodating establishment in the Lower City. 

Instead, silence creeps through my tent threatening to swallow me whole. Something stirs in the air, reminiscent of the dread I felt last night before Astarion approached me. 

I quickly gather myself before exiting the tent, not even concerned with changing into day clothes. Immediately I see Halsin across camp, whispering to a huddle of companions. Their hushed tones not quite reaching my ears.

“What’s going on,” I immediately felt panic rise in my throat.

All the companions fall silent as they whip their heads towards me. I immediately note Astarion is not among them. But that wasn’t unusual. Their behavior, however, was.

The companions stared at me momentarily before falling into their usual routine ignoring the suspicious glare I sent their way like daggers in their backs.

“Good morning, Tav. You must be famished! Come grab yourself a plate. You look like you need sustenance,” Gale rambles. I watched him carefully but headed towards the fire anyway, the remnants from Astarion’s feeding last night left me feeling light-headed still.

I sit silently as I eat. The companions were careful in my presence, offering me kind words as if to distract me from something. Their diversion was obvious. I leave my food half-finished behind as I stomp towards Halsin. He watches me approach, his face unreadable but his eyes guarded.

“What the hell is going on, Halsin?” I demand, “Why is everyone acting so strangely?” I cock my hip to the side and cross my arms over my chest waiting for an explanation. 

“Nothing slips through the cracks with you, my heart,” he laughs. It doesn’t reach his eyes and I know he is hiding something. 

“Quit stalling, Halsin,” I snap. My temper was burning on a short fuse this morning, and even though I felt bad for snapping at Halsin, who has done nothing but show kindness and patience towards me, he was obviously keeping something from me.

“Perhaps, we should go to your tent and talk,” he places a large hand on the small of my back, but I whip away from him.

“No. We will talk here. Tell me, what is going on?” The camp falls quiet and alerts me that everyone, aside from me, knows what is happening.

Halsin falters, and I look around the camp searching for something out of place. What has made them so worried?

“Tav,” Halsin whispers with careful explication, “Astarion is gone.”

His words envelope me, and I stare in disbelief as they swirl around in my head. “Gone? What does that mean?”

He sighs and refuses to meet my gaze, “He left.”

Darkness threatens to overtake my vision as his words settle in the pit of my stomach like a stone falling to the bottom of a lake.

I spin on my heels and tear through Astarion’s tent. The emptiness that stares back at me feels like a slap in the face. I feel my breath quicken, threatening to send me into overdrive until I’m hyperventilating.

I storm out of his tent, “Where?” I whisper, my fists involuntarily balling at my sides as I try to control the bubbling anger that threatens to spill over into unbridled rage. All I can see is red.

Halsin walks towards me cautiously, the whole company trailing behind him with worried expressions painted across their faces, “My heart–”

“WHERE?” I yell, all patience evaporates from my body.

Halsin quietly pulls a piece of parchment from his pocket and hands it to me slowly. I snatch it and unfold it, scared of what I might read.

I stared at his elegant handwriting, unable to soak in the words that stared back at me. This tells me nothing other than Astarion was gone. He had intentionally left. But for what purpose?

I fold the note and head to my tent, quickly changing into clothes more suitable for travel. I need to take a walk.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ Astarion POV *̥˚✧

I spent the first couple of nights quietly scouting out the Szarr palace, watching as guards came and went. I hadn’t seen any of my brothers and sisters since I arrived at my discreet hiding place. I knew the city like the back of my hand, having spent years watching the city grow even when my purpose had stayed the same. 

“Your only purpose is to lure back pretty things for your Master, boy,” Cazador’s words ricochet through my skull, “By any means necessary. Let them use you, gain their trust with your pretty words and face.”

I try to shake the words from my mind, but arriving on his doorstep only heightened the centuries of memories and torment. Long nights chained in the kennels with nothing but dead rats to sate my appetite flit through my mind. The painful bite of the whip as it bit into my flesh. My screams echoing through the palace, feeding the egos of my captors. 

Your screams sound the sweetest.

I knew that returning to this godsforsaken place would be a painful reminder of what once was, but it was more difficult to face alone than I had previously planned. I caught myself on several occasions turning my head, thinking Tav was standing next to me–a habit that I had become more than accustomed to.

I try to shake my thoughts from Tav. I cannot imagine how angry she must be with me. If I dwell on it too long, I will abandon all control and run back to her with pleas of forgiveness falling from my lips.

I checked my inventory one last time, having stockpiled supplies, potions, and weapons. I was ready. I slip in, undetected, having done this thousands of times before–but never with murder on my mind.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ Tav POV *̥˚✧

The nights were cold and agonizing. I could not sleep. My mind retraced our last day together. Something in Astarion’s demeanor had shifted after he visited the fortune teller. What had the witch said to him? I was almost certain that was the pivotal moment when things changed. 

The day had gone by in a blur. I stormed from camp and walked through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, searching for a glimpse of my silver-haired vampire. My urges thrummed in my chest and diabolical whispers filled my ears–my anger igniting their hunger.

I interrogated as many people as I could–barkeeps, guards, and merchants. Some required a knife to the throat to cooperate. I was perpetually having to cool my blood and ignore thoughts of maiming during their interrogation. I scared even myself at times. However, no one had captured a glimpse of Astarion. I shouldn’t be surprised; he had perfected the art of slipping undetected through the city streets for centuries.

By the time I returned to camp empty-handed the first night, I was exhausted. Gale tried to push a plate of food in my hands, but I was too high-strung to eat. Halsin was persistent in checking on me as I lay in my tent while I tried to push down the tears that threatened to spill. I was on the precipice of shattering completely.

Then the anger started to settle in. I numbly traced the puncture wounds that marred my neck. The only evidence that Astarion still existed. I was angry at him for leaving. For drinking from my neck and lying with me in my tent before slipping into the night–never to be seen.

I was angry that he left without a clue as to where he was going. I could not help but wonder if he was going to face Cazador. But it didn’t make sense. He was adamant that he needed my help to face his old master. What would push him to go back? I was not sure I wanted to find out.

The yawning breadth of despair sits like a cavern where my heart once beat with elation in his presence. I was not sure how much longer I could entertain thoughts of him pulled back under Cazador’s control. Images of Astarion’s limp body under the Szarr palace plagued my thoughts. What if he had been captured? What if Cazador had sacrificed him and completed the ritual? But why would Astarion willingly stroll back into his own torment? I knew the answer. He wouldn’t. But the witch–she knew something.

After a restless night pacing through camp, I headed out on my own to the Circus of the Last Days, refusing the company of my companions. The witch would divulge what she knew. She was the only lead I had. I would force it from her if I had to.

My heart sank when I saw her tent was absent. The merchants that had sat on either side of her said she had packed her things and left just the day before. I grip the hilt of my dagger, anger surging through my veins as whispers of murder rang in my ears. I knew I was treading a dangerous path. My anger had become untethered, and my murderous nature boiled just below the surface, yearning to break free.

After long hours of wandering the streets, staking out the Szarr palace, and harassing people in the street, I return yet again empty-handed back to camp.

“My heart,” Halsin pulls me into a hug, brushing the hair from my face, “I know you are worried about him. I am too. But you must take care of yourself. You haven’t slept. You haven’t eaten. You are out all day long. Let me care for you.”

The past two days I had been drowning in my own guilt over the way I had snapped at Halsin. But my anger and determination to find Astarion overpowered any rational thought. 

“The thought of living normally… Taking care of myself… feels wrong when he is out there somewhere,” Halsin gently runs his fingers through my tangled hair, trying his best to comfort me. “Why?” I choke, “Why would he leave? I don’t understand.” A tear slips from my eyes, and I can no longer hold back my despair. I cried into Halsin’s shoulder. My sobs echoed through the camp. I didn’t care who witnessed it. 

Halsin continues to comfort me. He helps me slip into my night clothes and brushes my hair, ushering me to put something in my stomach. I nibbled on a small piece of Waterdhavian cheese, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. I realize that all the luxuries of life–all the magic that one could find in the small mundane things, such as the taste of food or the vibrant colors of the city, did not matter if Astarion was not there to experience it with me.

Halsin brewed me some tea, promising that it would help me sleep. He offers to stay with me, but I regrettably turn him away, electing to be alone with my thoughts. With my despair.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ Astarion POV *̥˚✧

It was surprisingly easy to clear the main floor of Cazador’s palace. I took special pleasure in killing Godey, one of my main tormentors aside from Cazador. His screams echoed against the kennel walls, his empty threats silenced once and for all. 

I stood in the middle of the kennels trying to regain my composure. The ghosts that once taunted me in this room had been suddenly silenced. Their whispers effectively cut short. I remove the key to the chapel from the pile of bones that had once been Godey and make my way back to the main floor, cutting through all who stood in my path.

The humans that served Cazador in the hopes that they might one day become his spawn whimper pathetically as I slice through them without a second thought. The nocturnal horde that Cazador had amassed was no match for the centuries of rage that I had unleashed. I wore their blood like a badge of honor. A trophy of my revenge. 

But there was only one person whose blood I cared about at this moment–Cazador’s.

I pass through his study until I find the hidden lift that would descend me into hell. I steeled myself, knowing I would come face-to-face with the people whose trust I betrayed. It was one thing to prepare myself to face their inevitable wrath and suffering, but it was entirely different to witness with my own eyes.

Their vermillion glares pierced me from the other side of their gilded cages. I recognized their faces. They did not deserve this. It was all my fault.

Tav’s voice creeps into my mind unbidden, “You had no choice. This isn’t your fault. It’s his.” 

I pull the tarot card from my pocket and stare at the letters, deciphering its hidden meaning. The reminder that Tav was back at camp, hoping that I would return to her arms only strengthened my resolve. This card was meant to serve as a reminder. It reminded me of why I was doing this. It wasn’t for me. It was for us.

“I’m going to kill Cazador and free you all,” my voice was full of resolve. My previous targets stared back at me, unmoving. I don’t expect them to trust me. Not until it was done.

The smell of blood and death reverberated through the air, weighing heavy on my thoughts. I felt its influence on my mind as I traversed deeper into the underground chapel. My thoughts no longer felt like my own. The thrum of power hurtled through the air like static electricity, further warping my mind into something else–something I deeply wanted to avoid.

Finally, I reach the large ornate door leading to the ritual site. I could feel the power hitting me in undulating waves, the smell of death threatening to send me into a violent frenzy.

I take a deep breath, touching the pocket that stowed the tarot card. I let thoughts of Tav give me the strength and bravery that I desperately needed. I finally push open the doors.

“Is it true? Has our prodigal son returned?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✧*̥˚ Tav POV *̥˚✧

Last night was one of the most difficult. I had not been parted from Astarion this long since our first meeting. Memories of his cool hand tracing lines in my skin, the taste of his lips, the intimate moments we shared with only the moon as a witness addled my mind. Halsin’s tea sat untouched in the corner of my tent. 

I was scared to sleep–scared of the dreams that would play like a reel in my mind. I wasn’t ready to face those quite yet. A part of me still held out hope that he would return, begging to be held in my arms like the last night we spent together. His cool skin comforted me in ways that no one else could supply. I knew I was chasing false hopes.

How could I surge forward, eager to save the world when mine had just been decimated. Selfish thoughts flitted through my mind, wishing all of Faerun could suffer like I was. The thoughts scared me. They were foreign to me–at least the new me. I felt the thorny tendrils of my past life gripping me tightly, seeping through my veins like the poison of a viper. The lonely Bhaalspawn I once was lingering behind the threshold, threatening to break the fragile barrier that I had worked so hard to build.

Astarion made me realize that all she had needed was love–a tender touch. Something to care for. But that had been ripped from my grasp, and the shattered girl I once was slowly began to reveal herself once again.

The camp was active, but I was too depressed to leave my bed. I knew that if I continued to tear apart the city looking for evidence that Astarion still existed would turn up nothing. He had vanished, just as quickly as he had come. 

My eyelids are heavy with exhaustion. My limbs ache from lack of sleep and food. My eyes close against my will, and I fall into a dark slumber filled with dreams of Astarion.

A commotion in camp wakes me from my sleep, images of Baldur’s Gate flooded with blood and viscera rescind from behind my eyes as I try to take hold of my surroundings.

Outside, I hear urgent voices. Shadowheart is yelling out a list of potions and ingredients for healing, “Astarion, stay with us.”

All the lingering effects of sleep drain from my body when I hear his name. I scramble out of my tent, tripping over my own feet. I look up to find Astarion collapsed on the outskirts of our camp, bloodied and bruised.

A strangled cry escapes my lips as I run towards him. No. no. Don’t die.

I’m hovering over Astarion, clasping his hand in mine. His labored breathing is shallow and painful.

“Astarion,” I cry, choking on my own sobs.

His eyes open slowly, and he squeezes my hand weakly, “D-darling. I-I’m terribly sorry,” he sputters before his eyes fall closed again and his arm goes limp.

“Shadowheart,” I cry, panic rising in my throat.

“Let me work,” she murmurs, casting restoration and healing spells, her hands working methodically.

Halsin wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me away. I fight against him, thrashing violently, “No,” I scream.

“Let her work, Tav, she can heal him,” I hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“LET. ME. GO.” I scream, maneuvering out of his grip and falling to my knees beside Astarion. Halsin paces behind me, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to stay calm for my sake. But I can tell he is just as concerned.

“Astarion, please,” I whimper, running a hand through his hair, ignoring the blood that paints his curls red and pink, “Stay with me. Don’t… Don’t leave me again.” 

Shadowheart works throughout the day, patching up any visible wounds and casting spell after spell. Finally, as the sun begins to slip from the sky, she announces that he will be fine. But he has fallen into a deep rest so that his body has time to heal.

I don’t leave his side for three days, counting his breaths and wiping the sweat that dampens his brow. I whisper encouraging words to him when others aren’t around, coaxing him to wake up. All of my anger was abandoned and forgotten. Halsin stayed with us as much as he could, only leaving to eat and sleep.

The third night, Halsin exits the tent to catch up on sleep. The bags under his eyes grow heavier with each passing day. He forces tea into my hands, practically begging me to sleep. I promise that I will try. I give him a soft kiss and whisper apologies for my decorum these past few days. I felt like an awful partner. Halsin waves off my concerns, showing nothing but understanding and kindness. He knew what Astarion meant to me.

I curl up next to Astarion, careful not to touch his wounds. It looked like he had suffered quite a bit. I saw the healing scars of knife wounds. Some looked like he had been stabbed while others were large gashes that marred his body. Even still, large bite marks and burns were scabbing over, only just staring to heal. My thoughts turn over in my head, wondering where he had gone. I felt deep down I already knew the answer.

I gulp down Halsin’s tea and close my eyes, listening to Astarion’s rhythmic breathing until I finally fall asleep. 

I’m not sure how long I was out before I felt him stirring next to me. I hear a grunt as cool arms snake around my waist and pull me close. My eyes spring open and I am met with the most beautiful sight I could pray for.

Astarion’s vermillion eyes stare back at me, something haunting lingers behind them.

“Astarion,” I jump. A mixture of surprise and excitement touches my voice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling me back to his body, “I-I’m so sorry, darling.” 

I watch him as sadness and relief surface in his features. “I have so much to tell you.”

I nuzzle my head into his chest, tears spilling from my eyes, “You need to rest, Astarion,” I say choking back my sobs, “Reserve your energy, please,” I beg, “You can explain later.” I mesh my body with his, not wanting to ever be parted from him again.

He chuckles lightly beside me, his quiet laughter rumbling in his chest. He painfully leans forward to plant a kiss on my head.

“This cannot wait, darling,” he murmurs through painful breaths.

I lift my head to meet his loving gaze.

“Tav–I. I’ve had a lot of time to think. But the only thoughts that occupy my mind are thoughts of you,” he pauses to catch his breath, “You have taken hold of my heart–my soul. There is nothing–nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I–I love you,” he breathes, “and I do not want a future if it does not include you.”

He slowly and painfully pulls a card from the pockets of his bloodied discarded trousers. “You gave me the strength to save myself. I will never forget it.”

I take the card from him and study its blood splattered image. The words The Lovers stare back at me, promising a future that I yearned for more than anything.

“I love you too Astarion,” I breathe after a moment, cradling myself against his body once again, “Don’t ever leave me like that again,” I whisper into his skin, inhaling his familiar scent.

“I promise,” he whispers before falling back into a deep sleep. His breathing slows to a steady rhythm.

And for a moment, I swear I could hear the soft beating of his heart.

[farfromstrange]

Useless | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Mental illness can be a cruel bitch sometimes. Thankfully, Matt Murdock is patient and he always takes care of you, even when you try to shut him out.

Warnings: ANGST, emotional hurt/comfort, Mental Health Episode, allusions to self-harm and suicidal thoughts, post Season 3 (spoilers ahead), not proofread

A/n: to anyone following me, you already know why this is being posted. I wrote this while I was depressed. I hope it helps some of you. I won’t say any more because there’s no words to be said about this. It’s sad but there’s comfort in the end and some wisdom I’ve gathered. You’re welcome!

I’ve put whatever I have left to post into the queue. I’m going to bed now. I wanted to post this beforehand because I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished for the first time in a while. I’ll see you soon, but probably not tomorrow… like I said, baby steps. My profile’s been busy enough for today and me too, for that matter. Take care of yourselves and please, if you ever feel down, don’t hesitate to talk to someone!

He knocks three times. He has a key, so he doesn’t have to knock, but he does, and after that he even rings the doorbell, but you can’t bring yourself up to get off the cold bathroom floor.

“Sweetheart,” his gentle voice rings out. There’s a small thud, it sounds hollow and quieter than his insistent knocks just a moment ago. His forehead collides with the wood of the front door and the room falls silent. “I can hear your heartbeat, y’know, so I know you’re not dead, but it’s still distressing to not hear from you for days,” he says. “I’m gonna open the door now.”

He finds you in the bathtub, but there is no water and you’re still wearing your pajamas from two days ago. You’re dry, so you haven’t showered with your clothes on, and overall it seems as if you’re just using the bathtub as a makeshift bed rather than an attempt to cool yourself to death.

Matt sighs deeply. “You know how worried I was?”

Your mouth is dry, your head fuzzy and you can’t possibly speak with your throat this tight.

Control is a fragile concept. You might be in control of your life for one second, and then the next everything's falling apart. Your kind descends into a downward spiral and once you’re going down, breaking out seems like an impossible task to do.

It’s times like these where life feels like it’s just happening to you and you have to sit back and endure it. You physically can’t take the reins back, no matter how hard you try. You’re paralyzed. It’s your head that’s screaming for you to act, but all you can do is sit back and watch in horror as you drive yourself off the road.

“You’ve been shutting people out again, haven’t you?” He rhetorically asks. “Because when I asked your friends, they said they haven’t seen you in days either, they’ve just read your texts, and they were short and snappy and that’s not like you, baby. Or it is, but only when it’s getting bad again. I was afraid this might have happened, I just didn’t want to accept it until I couldn’t bear it anymore. I had to check up on you. Glad I followed my gut.” He says the last part under his breath, and the relief mixes with the worry in an expression that makes you want to throw up. It’s sickening how much he cares, and the world doesn’t deserve him the same way you feel like you don’t.

The truth passes right by you. All you can think about is what you keep telling yourself. You’re useless, worthless, a nuisance and everyone hates you, so you need to erase yourself from the narrative to make the world slow down and make everyone just shut up. Even now you want Matt to shut up because his voice is like the sound of a million needles dropping on the floor of a hollow room all at once.

The worst part is, you know you should feel guilty for caving in on yourself but you can’t feel anything but this nagging feeling of anger and frustration eating away at your heart. Even his voice makes your fists clench. At least the deafening quiet has kept your nerves from fading into nothing and triggering that toe-curling feeling of overstimulating that sits right at the top of your brain and makes every last muscle twitch in a way that causes anger to seep from your pores, he can smell it.

He can hear it in your heart and your breathing too, he knows you’re not okay, and he knows his constant questioning only makes the fire that is burning you alive worse. It’s been like this before and it will continue happening, he knows. He knows that and he accepts you with all of your flaws and all the problems you might have. He loves you, why should he leave you for something that’s not even your fault? You haven’t quite grasped the concept of his devotion for you yet, but he’s determined to prove it to you.

He kneels next to the bathtub, shedding his suit jacket along the way and placed his chin on his forearms as he leans forward. His glasses land on the floor and his smile is so lopsided, it makes you frown for a second. He’s trying his hardest to make you smile with the way his sightless brown eyes try to find yours, and his teeth glisten in the bathroom light as he grins at you.

“What is it this time?” He doesn’t question your behavior, he just wants to understand. He knows you better than anyone else, after all.

You let out a prolonged breath. Even his voice has you on edge, but you suppose it could be worse. He’s not as annoying as your own voice when you answer, “Life.”

You sound so drained, his features soften even more and he reaches out to brush the greasy hair out of your face. There is wine in your breath, his nose picks up on that instantly, and you desperately need a shower, but he doesn’t tell you that because he knows you already know that. He’d never judge you for it. He’s happy as long as you’re alive, the rest can be figured out at a later time.

“Are you drunk?” he asks.

“Lightly buzzed,” you say.

The alcohol was supposed to take the edge off, but it’s only made you more nervous.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Do you want to take a shower?”

“No. I need the world to be fucking quiet, that’s what I need.”

You flinch at your own tone, but he doesn’t seem fazed at your snappy nature. You swear it’s not personal. You would have apologized a million times if you hadn’t been so tired, and he really doesn’t seem to mind. He simply nods, acknowledging your wish.

“Okay,” he says. “Can I take you to bed then, at least? Your back probably hurts. How long have you been here?”

Your eyes flutter closed. “This morning,” you tell him.

He sighs wearily. “Of course, you have. Can I take you to bed, sweetheart, please? I’ll make sure you’re properly compressed so you won’t get triggered by new sensations, I promise, just… let me do this for you. The bathtub is no place to cry, you’ve told me that.”

You did, once.

And you couldn’t possibly protest, even if you tried. Your back does hurt and you’re more tired than usual. You haven’t required this much sleep in a while, but your mind and body are both exhausted and you feel as if you’re going to faint if you keep staring at the white bathroom tiles. Matt’s presence has knocked some sense back into you, bringing reality to the forefront, but the alcohol and shed tears keep your mind fuzzy to the point you’re not sure if you can feel your legs.

Matt senses your hesitation. Ever the caring boyfriend, he reaches his arms out to lift you out of the tub. “C’mon,” he says.

“Why aren’t you angry?” your voice cracks as you ask the dreaded question.

He has you up in his arms in an instant. “Why aren’t you yelling at me?”

His lips press to your temple, a silent answer as he carries you into your still-dark bedroom.

“Matt,” you try again, but he stops you.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he says, wrapping your fragile body in blankets and mountains of pillows. “It’s okay to feel like shit sometimes, and if you need to shut people out to feel better, that’s okay too, just try telling them how you feel before you disappear or they might start thinking you hurt yourself.”

“I don’t do that anymore.”

He swallows hard at the emphasis. “I know, sweetheart, but it’s hard for the people who love you to differentiate.”

You pout, “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “don’t say that. It’s not your fault. Here, scoot over.”

He takes off his shoes and the rest of his clothes until he’s left in his boxers. You do as you’re told and let him into bed with you.

“You want to cuddle or is that too much?” he asks.

Considering your skin feels hot and on fire while your flesh is freezing, your heart contracting in pure agony at even the thought of being touched, you shy away and shake your head, the tears finally starting to flow. He smells the salt in the air, mixing with the salt of your sweat.

You hide your face in the pillow. The sob that passes your lips sounds broken. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you admit. “Everything just… sucks.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, I wish I could help you.” He doesn’t touch you. He respects your boundaries.

You shiver, curling further into the pillows. His warmth is there, but his hands aren’t. Still, it’s enough to make your body vibrate with the heaviest sob you’ve let out in a while. He wants nothing more than to hug you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits by your side and lets you cry it out in the company of someone who understands how you feel because he has them too, the bad episodes, the times he just wants to shut everyone out and sleep in his bathtub. It’s because of that he isn’t angry or upset with you for doing what your mind thought to be right at the moment. He understands better than anyone else ever could, and it somehow makes the tears flow even faster and harder to the point you can’t help it anymore. You ignore the smoldering fire in your chest and curl around his arm; it’s all you can do without breaking apart, but you need him while not needing him, and a touch you can control is better than something forced on you. His pulse drums against your fingers resting around his wrist and it manages to calm your own in the process.

“I want a different brain,” you eventually choke out. “It’s not fair God gave me the messed up one. I don’t want it. I don’t want to be me. I just want to be someone else, just for today.”

The human psyche is treacherous and easily turns your entire mindset against you.

He sighs, reaching up to pat your hair. “I’m sorry,” it’s all he knows how to say. He’s sorry that you feel this way, that you feel guilty for being you, and that there is nothing he can say or do that would make the monster shut up.

His presence has to somehow suffice, telling you you’re not alone anymore and that you’re not the failure you make yourself out to be. He helps you heal while at the same time, he makes you better. You hate him for being so kind, for making you love him so deeply you can’t possibly hate him. It’s confusing, all of this, your heart and your feelings, but most importantly your thoughts.

The tears die down eventually, your tear ducts empty and your mind and body tired from screaming at each other. Your hold has tightened around his arm, your eyes squeezed shut and the occasional sobs are all that are left from the unplanned breakdown.

Matt still has his hand in your hair, brushing through it until your heartbeat has slowed and you can breathe again.

You feel obligated to apologize. “I’m sorry,” you say. Of course, he shuts you down.

“It’s not your fault,” he reminds you. “And I’m always going to be here to tell you that. I love you, sweetheart, and you’re worthy of my love. You’re worthy of all of my love. It’s okay to be depressed, it’s okay to take what you need and it’s more than okay to take a break.”

“Then why do I feel so useless? It’s been like this for a year now and I can’t… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Everyone reaches their breaking point eventually. I did, back when I was still living in the church basement. But I crawled my way back out of hell. You know how long it took me, so why put yourself down for taking your time now?”

He makes a valid point, which is infuriating. You whimper. “I hate that I love you so much.”

He chuckles. “Right now you do, tomorrow you won’t.”

“I know.” Your voice cracks again. “God, I’m so sorry. My head’s a mess.”

He leans over to kiss your hair again. “Well, thank God I’m here now to take care of you,” he says. “Tomorrow, I’ll clean up your apartment and make sure you eat something. You don’t have to shower if you don’t feel ready, but it might help. But we’ll see that tomorrow, okay? For now, I want you to rest. I’m right here if you need me.”

The sleep catches up with you shortly after he’s done talking, his hand scratching your scalp while he whispers Sweet nothings into the night, distracting you from the hellish thoughts your mind has conjured up for you. It’s just you and him, his voice a lullaby that you’ve grown accustomed to, and with Matt by your side, you finally fight your way into a dreamless sleep.

He’s your solace, your lifeline, your lifesaver, and he’s always there, even when you don’t ask him to. He’s the comfort you need, your common sense and the sun that lights up your darkest days. Without him, you’re sure you would have been lost, swallowed by the tide of severe mental illness and the cruelty that is life itself.

You love him and he loves you, the perfect pair, both damaged but so good to each other, the bad matters a little less when you’re together.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

To Leave the Abyss

Professor Sharp hates to recognise himself in your eyes.

&

A thirty something Auror Aesop Sharp is failing to come to terms with his predicament.

This was supposed to be a part of one of my WIP. But then I got into it and thought; oof, that's heavy. So it's a standlone. Gif amateurly made by me.

Note: Sharp, Hecat and Ronen knew each other in school. Ronen was oldest, Hecat was youngest and they were in the "I hate PNB" club before it was cool.

TW: Depression, Self-harm, suicidal thoughts, swearing

Sharp wasn’t usually fond of going to the Astronomy tower - the amount of stairs! Tonight however, he felt a certain pull towards the place, and he was glad that he did. It took him a long time to finally climb that spiral staircase, but once he managed to do so, he immediately noticed that he wasn’t alone there. Standing just ahead was a student, and he didn’t even need to guess which student it was. You were shaking like a leaf, your hand holding the handle of your broom in a vice grip, and you stood with your back to him. “What do you think you’re doing here?!” he asked loudly, making you flinch violently and turn around to face him.

The look on your face terrified him, haunted him, because he knew it all too personally. That wide-eyed panic, tinged with chaos and madness. You reminded him of a wounded, caged animal and he could almost feel you considering whether to just throw your broom away and toss yourself off the tower without it.

He remembered that look so well. 

—

He saw it in his own eyes, shortly after he was released from St Mungo’s. He moved around mostly on a wheelchair, using his cane only when absolutely necessary - to dress himself, get into and out of bed, sit on the sofa, use the bathroom. He drank heavily that evening. Like he did everyday since he got home, actually. He was just washing his hands, trying to balance himself on his good leg, the strong liquor making it even more difficult, when he made the mistake of looking up. He saw himself in the mirror. He saw the look. He saw his scar, red and angry and fucking painful. He saw his face. His face was overgrown, scruffy, and his eyes were red, the circles under them so dark they were nearly purple. His hair was a mess. He was a mess. A cripple. He’ll never be able to do his job again. He’ll never see his partner again. He’ll be forever haunted by the memory of seeing her with her wife and son, together in an embrace. He lost everything. He lost everything.

The pain in his leg seared, raw and agonising, and Aesop screamed. He brought his arms up in unhinged madness and he lunged forward, bringing his fisted hands against the mirror. There was a cathartic sound of glass shattering and he nearly felt relieved when he felt pain somewhere else than his leg and face. Blood. Blood was falling freely from his shaking hands. A few hard hits later, he was covered in it. He was trembling. With a final hit, he let his head join in on breaking the mirror. He saw red. Hot wetness ran down his nose, his cheeks.

Pain. His leg cramped up and with a shout he felt it give up on him, sending him plummeting to the ground. He sat there covered in cuts, in shards, in blood. He screamed. Aesop screamed as loud and long as he could, tears streaming down his face, red from exertion. He screamed even as his throat began to hurt, screamed until he no longer physically could. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, head hung low, shards of glass all around him, some of the smaller cuts having stopped bleeding. The blood was drying up, becoming crusty. Tears still streamed down his face. He was filthy, his clothes were beyond salvation. His leg hurt like shit, so much he barely felt the glass cuts anymore. His hands were a mess. Two of his fingers were broken, protruding in odd directions. He was still shaking. 

One of his hands picked up a larger piece of what used to be his mirror. He observed the sharp edge of it. How long would it take to die if he was to slit his throat? How long would it take to bleed out like the pathetic animal he was, if he was to sever an artery. He unconsciously lifted the glass.

“Aesop Theodore Sharp, you put down that shard RIGHT NOW! ” He startled so much, he gripped it harder, cutting it into his palm. He winced and his hand released. It took a while before it hit the ground, having got stuck under his skin. Fresh blood started running down his arm.

Dinah Hecat stood before him, the look on her face terrifying. Her work injury years ago left her looking like an old woman despite being younger than him by two years. However, Aesop knew very well that she would have been able to take him on when he was in full health and strength. This was not a woman to be trifled with. “What were you thinking?!” she roared. The former unspeakable, current teacher observed him. He must’ve looked positively pitiful. “We’re going to St Mungos. You’ll be staying there until term ends, even if I’m to personally shackle you to the bed. And I won’t let you out of my sight during the summer. Aesop Sharp, heed my words, you are going to hate me before September comes!”

He didn’t argue. There was no point. He was as weak as a kitten right now and whatever Dinah wanted to do, he wouldn’t be able to stop her. 

He could not speak, when a healer in the magical hospital inquired about his injuries, his sore throat only producing strangle gurgling sounds. He drank so many potions, he felt as if his taste buds were permanently burned away. Wiggenweld, Blood-Replenishing potion, Skele-Gro, Calming draught, Draught of peace and of course Dreamless Sleep. A dose larger than he ever had before. 

When he woke up, he realised just what he’d done. He remembered everything. He sat up in the pristine white hospital bed, his whole body sore, his leg positively pulsing with pain. He put his face into his hands. He wept again. A warm hand touched his shoulder. Watery brown eyes looked up into the kind face of his former ministry colleague. Dinah stroked his shoulder, before moving her hand up to his face, to his hair, petting him softly. 

He cried into her shoulder that day, his hands laying limp in his lap. He heard a clock ticking somewhere to his left. He heard Dinah’s soft shushing sounds. He heard movement on the corridors - nurses, healers, patients, visitors. He heard his own heavy breathing, and he heard the beating of his own heart.

“Listen to me, Aesop,” she spoke later. He wasn’t sure how much time passed, but the sun was taking on an orange colour. Her hands were on his shoulder. “I am choosing to believe that yesterday-” her breath caught, but she recovered quickly, “yesterday was a moment of madness. Never again do I want to find you like I did. You have to realise that your life is not your own to take. Once you do, you’re not the one who’ll hurt. Everyone around you, your family, colleagues, your friends, they’ll be the ones to bear that pain. Think of your mother. You would really make her bury her son next to her husband? 

“You would have her suffer all alone until the end of her days? You would have her, and me, and Abraham, and your partner’s wife stand at your funeral? How could you be so selfish?” Her words were harsh, but Aesop felt he needed to hear them. He felt them grounding him. He felt ridiculous and pitiful. He wept on.

“Aesop… you won’t stay in this darkness. I know you won’t, because you won’t be allowed to. You’re one of the strongest people I know and you never knew when to give up. And now, giving up so easily? That’s not you. Get yourself together. I want to see that Aesop I know, that witty, brave, sarcastic, strong man, who’d always find a way to do what he felt was right. Even if it meant breaking a rule or two.” The broken man held his hands together in his lap, rubbing them slowly. Old habits die hard.

“What if-” he started, his voice still hoarse from yesterday. His throat felt numb. “What if I’m not able to… remember that man?” A smaller hand closed around his rugged ones. “Then you’ll have me to remind you. I’ll do everything in my power to help you, and if I’m unable to help, then you can be sure I’ll stand by you, every step of the way.” Aesop could have cried all over again.

“Okay,” he said instead.

–

Dinah did good on her promise, and really checked in on him every day of the summer. She was driving him up the wall, actually. She threw out every bottle of alcohol she found, and regularly made sure he didn’t buy any more. He started eating more, because not doing so resulted in the former unspeakable giving him an earful. He decided fairly quickly that it’s simply less of a hassle to get something into his stomach, than having to endure her wrath every day. He gained back some of the weight he lost, no longer looking so gaunt. 

She forced him to start walking, using his cane for support. It hurt like hell. It made him determined. He was not going to give up. Slytherins don’t just give up. Dinah made him go outside, being so obnoxious he was almost glad to get out of his house. The first breath of fresh morning air made his sore body buzz appreciatively. He didn’t walk far the first day, choosing to just sit in his little garden. The DADA teacher appeared with tea and sat next to him, looking awfully proud of herself. With a flick of his wand, he disposed of the dead plants on his herbology table nearby.

The next day he walked around the little hamlet. He tried not to notice the stares he received from his neighbours. He tried even harder not to notice their pity. He pushed his chin forward, proud and defiant, as he made his way to the merchant nearby. He needed new seeds. 

—

He wasn’t entirely happy to be in the Three Broomsticks, if he was being honest. But, once more Dinah pestered him until he agreed. That is, until he gave her his worst angsty-teenager ‘Fine!’ . He knew people were staring. The curious glances were easier to handle than the winces. A girl appeared at their table, taking their orders. She could have been fifteen, maybe sixteen. She didn’t look at his scar, didn’t look at his cane. She observed him as if he wasn’t a cripple, who’s obviously in pain. She just smiled and took their order. He was grateful for it. “That’s Sirona Ryan, one of my Ravenclaws,” smiled Dinah, “wonderful girl. She really came out of her shell once she embraced who she is.”

—

Having grown tired of spending his compensation money and the little sick leave pay he received every two weeks on buying potions for his pain, he soon started brewing his own. Wiggenweld, for a start, but also various other potions, as well as salves, each of which have had various success in diminishing his pain. He forgot how much he always loved this subject. He started experimenting, too, trying new ingredients, new combinations. The healers in St Mungos may have been convinced there was no cure for his ailment, but Aesop wouldn’t give up. 

When summer ended and Dinah could only visit him during the weekends, he was equally glad and disappointed. He thought he looked forward to being alone again, alone with his thoughts, alone without her constantly pestering him to eat something, to go outside, to shave, to cut his hair, to dress in fresh clothes. He found himself slightly lonely now.  

However, he found a rhythm, a routine. He’d wake up in the morning and go about his day. Aesop would do his morning hygiene. He’d make and eat his breakfast. He’d tend to his plants. He’d have lunch. He’d go for a walk, leaning on his cane. The pain never went away, but it was more bearable now. On most days, that is. He’d be hunched over his potions station long into the evening, brewing and brewing. He’d run his experiments. He’d fall into his bed, but not without taking either Dreamless Sleep or Draught of Peace.

Rinse and repeat. 

He ate, he wore clean clothes, he took care of himself and his home. He visited his mother, who always fretted over him. Then there was Dinah who would also fret over him when she came over. He saw Abraham a few times, the jovial man always full of stories. He let his hair and stubble grow in defiance. He was offered a different job in the Auror office. Auror recruitment programme… the very thought made him shudder. To think he’d be buried under parchment, dealing with children straight out of Hogwarts, who thought they were some heroes who would save the world, only for them to soon realise how horribly they were mistaken… Often brutally. Bloodily.

He didn’t want that. Such a job held no appeal to him whatsoever.

Aesop Sharp retired from the Auror office at 34 years old.

He still received a small amount of monetary support from the ministry every month, and he started selling some of what he brewed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for Aesop. In any case, it was enough until he found something better to do, some new job that could fill him with fulfilment. Dinah came around, sometime during April with a smug smile on her face. She found him the perfect job, she claimed.

Four months later, Aesop stood before Hogwarts.

He found it rather funny. He didn’t want to deal with children straight out of Hogwarts who pursued an Auror career, only to deal with them in the school itself. If anything, he could make sure they were well prepared, that they were humble, that they knew everything they needed. That they wouldn’t end up like him.

He also thought about the vast expanse of Hogwarts library, of the Greenhouses, of the ingredient stores. If he was to find a cure somewhere, it would be here.

With every limping step towards the castle, he grew more and more sure that this was the right decision. That this was fate. 

—

The worst time of his life flashed before Aesop’s eyes. He saw your sorrow, your desperation, your pain. He saw you, entirely, and he saw himself, too. It was raw and painful and he hated it. He hated to see someone so strong, so ridiculously brave, so kind and selfless like you feeling this way. Damn ancient magic, damn the keepers, damn Ranrok and damn Eleazar for leaving you like he did.

“Come here,” he said, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. Not knowing why, you obeyed. Your broom hit the floor. You moved slowly, still shaking violently, tears already appearing in your eyes. It was Aesop who took the final two steps to you, and, without further ado, closed his arms around your smaller form, pressing you to him entirely, imprisoning you in his warmth. You’ve grown during the year, but being as tall as he was, he easily tucked your head under his chin. Sobs soon started leaving you. Gut-wrenching and raw like his screams were before. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

He made it on time, he made it before you did something stupid. Like he did. He wouldn’t let you be like him. He held you tightly, stroked your hair, let you cry on his shoulder. He made soft shushing noises. In the distance he heard bells, it was midnight. You clung onto him, your hands gripping the fabric of his coat so tightly, your fingers went white. He was a solid, steady warmth against you, and you felt safe, protected, and you weren’t alone. When your sobs began subsiding, you felt utterly exhausted, numb, your throat was sore from crying so hard, and your head was starting to ache.

Two large lean hands grabbed your face, gently, yet insistently. The potions master pulled you back, tilted your head and looked into your eyes deeply. His face was so close, his large nose almost touched your own.

“You listen to me, (F/N)(L/N), and you listen well,” he started, his tone soft, yet very serious, “I know your pain. I know the darkness - you won’t stay in it. You won’t be allowed to. I won’t let you, your friends and teachers won’t let you, and you definitely won’t let yourself.” He remembered what Dinah told him, all those years ago, word for word. He never forgot. He never stopped being grateful to her. She pulled him out of that void and now he had to do the same for this young witch.

“You’re stronger than you know. I simply won’t accept you giving up, not after you single-handedly defeated Ranrok, after you saved this school. That’s not you. I want to see that absolutely brilliant girl, who excels in school by day and rescues beasts by night, who’s untamed and unafraid, and who’s always ready to defy anything and anyone, even me, in order to do what’s right. Whatever you need, I’m here. If you cannot bear to be alone, I’m wholly prepared to give you detention every evening until you graduate. I intend to pull you out of that abyss, even if you hate me for it.”

At some point your hands covered his own on your cheeks, and fresh tears rolled from your eyes. Aesop pulled you close again, grounding you, letting you fall apart in his arms and putting you back together with his quiet comfort. “I could never hate you,” you whimpered and clung on tighter, not wanting him to let you go. He wouldn’t. Just like Aesop was not alone, he wouldn’t let you be alone either. You were not alone. He was not alone.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed reading. You can also find this story on AO3. I appreciate your feedback!

[starsandgutters]

WIP GAME BOO & BOWSER!! 👀

HEHEHE !!

This is also just an outline, but it’s an idea I have had in my head for YEARS, from around the same period as the initial conception of Kinda Love, so I am very soft and fond of this verse even if I’ve never written a word from it.

Kevin and Aaron become close in college after Neil and Andrew get together cause they’re on the sidelines more often. And after Riko especially they get really close, and they think they’re just dudes being bros, but they do have such exchanges as Aaron teasingly referring to Kevin as Paracelsus.

“Why?”

“Because he also always wanted to be right. He actually burned medical textbooks because he was so strongly of the belief his ways were correct and tradition was wrong. And this is 15th and 16th century, books were not easy to come by.”

“Wow. Thanks. I won’t insist I’m right if I’m wrong-”

“That’s not- I just mean he had that much belief in himself. He didn’t want incorrect medical practice happening. He also taught in German instead of Latin. Cause he believed everyone should have access to knowledge, not just the upper classes.”

“…oh.”

“He just reminds me of you.”

And Kevin is all flustered because not only is Aaron being NICE to him but he’s being nice USING HISTORY which is a super effective seduction method for Kevin, and every time Aaron calls him Paracelsus after he remembers that and feels all warm and … wow they must be such good friends right 😃

But then Kevin leaves and being Kevin gets hyper focused in on his new team and training and it’s usually Aaron messaging him, but the replies get sparser and more infrequent, and after a few months Aaron starts to think Kevin only was friendly with him because of close contact / has moved on and now that Aaron isn’t going to be continuing exy he isn’t important to him anymore.

Like Kevin’s just a single minded dumbass but Aaron has attachment issues due to parental abuse so. Y’know. It hurts and it sucks but he has Katelyn and he’s got med school to be working towards and so he tries not to think about Kevin.

(Hard to avoid thoughts of your ex best friend when he’s constantly on TV and you’re still on his dad’s team but whatever)

When Kevin comes back to see Wymack for holidays he acts the same as they always did, but Aaron’s more distant towards him, so then HE thinks Similar Things™️ to Aaron because they’re BOTH emotionally stilted idiots. So the distance between them just grows.

Kevin is separated from Thea at this point because Kevin Day deserves to love himself thanks 😤

They cross paths sometimes over the years (usually from things involving Andrew) but it’s more like cold acquaintances than the way they used to be.

Aaron and Katelyn break up in his last year of med school. Just growing apart, changing as people, but Aaron definitely feels his depression had a big impact in it and it sends him into a bit of a spiral and he has to take some time off from school - which he hates- He shifts to part time studying and splitting his time between that and working at a doctors office but now he’s suddenly faced with the fact that he’s got a void in his life cause, hey! Most of his med school friends were mutual friends with Katelyn and all their hanging out was as a couple and sure he’s got some acquaintances and work acquaintances but like… trust issues mean he doesn’t wanna spend time with people he’s not super close to. Andrew’s busy playing pro, Nicky’s in Germany, so Aaron adopts a dog.

HE’S A ROTTWEILER AND HE CALLS HIM BOWSER AND GETS HIM A SPIKED COLLAR 😌😌😌

(The timeline of this kind of messy but I’ll work it out better if I ever write it hahaha)

Kevin is also a Lonely Boi but he throws himself into playing to distract himself. Except his hand gets worse every winter and no matter how many tapes or supports or massages or pain meds he tries, it’s getting harder to keep up the level of use he has with it.

And then he gets the news he has post traumatic arthritis and he’ll only have so many years left to play before it gets worse. And sure, yeah, he taught himself to play right handed, and that was FINE for the Foxes, but it’s not up to standard with the pros.

Cue mental breakdown.

Cue importing a super expensive pure breed dog as a distraction (she’s a Shiba Inu called Boudicca).

(I considered a Japanese name because it’s JUST LIKE KEVIN to name her ✨authentically✨ and teach her all her commands in Japanese, but also, I think it’s just so tied to Riko and painful memories for him that in the end he wouldn’t, but felt he would find it funny to call her after a queen, and a Celtic warrior queen felt appropriate 😌)

Oh he also drunk called Aaron at some stage despite not having had a full conversation with him in years and Aaron is just like “wat” like why would you not talk to Andrew or Neil about this???

But he can’t.

Because they still get to play.

Andrew doesn’t even care about this stupid sport that is Kevin’s whole world and he STILL gets to PLAY and how can Kevin look him in the face and say he’s on limited time and Andrew’s career will outlast him?

And Aaron’s kind of annoyed. But it’s also nice in a sad way that someone seems to be doing worse than him (can you say schadenfreude?) And also he discovers his soft spot for Kevin never left and fuck that.

So they stay in contact a little more frequently. Kevin sends pupdates. Aaron sends advice because as smart as Kevin is he’s also a soft touch and keeps spoiling her before he’s even got her trained and also “you picked one of the most stubborn temperamental dog breeds as your first- No, why am I surprised? You fit perfectly”

More messy time line stuff I haven’t thought about and Kevin having to leave her for the first time to tour and he’s like “S O S I THOUGHT I COULD LEAVE HER AT A KENNEL BUT I DONT TRUST THEM WITH MY BABY WILL YOU PLEASE BABYSIT HER”

“You know im busy I have work and school.”

“She’ll keep Bowser company.”

“Bowser is a grown dog because I didn’t contribute to breeding for profit while good dogs get put down in shelters because they have no homes.”

(5 photos attached of Boudicca)

“Fuck sake fine”

And Kevin’s like she’s kind of moody and it might take her a while to warm up to you and-

Dog whisperer Aaron Minyard crouches down and she immediately is getting belly rubs and giving him kisses. (Aaron Minyard who is good with animals & who animals always take to because they can sense the soft core of him that people don’t see past his spiky exterior you will ALWAYS be real to ME)

Kevin: 👁👄👁

Boo is Aaron’s nickname for Boudicca. Which he calls her all the time even though Kevin protests greatly, because she HAS a name and it is a GREAT name it is a POWERFUL and HISTORICAL name and-

And Aaron’s like hehe let me edit them so it looks like they’re sitting in little Mario Kart racing karts - Bowser and Boo 🤭💖

Kevin has never been a better communicator. Messages Aaron every free minute like hello is my baby the light of my life ok???

Gets flustered when Aaron replies “im fine thanks how are you” wHAT IS THAT ABOUT??? WHAT IS THIS FEELING SO SUDDEN AND NEW—

Aaron and Katelyn have also moved past their break up heartache at this stage and reconnected as friends, so some of the updates Aaron sends Kevin of the dogs out on walks, or him doing stuff with them, Katelyn is in the background of. And Kevin does not like this. It makes him feel all complicated and prickly and uncomfortable. Like, why is she near HIS dog and why is that FUZZY LITTLE TRAITOR sitting on her lap and WHY is she pressed against HIS AARON’S side and- wait, no, not his Aaron, hahaha what a silly thought-

Ends up impulse buying a house in Aaron’s city (idk if Aaron canonically went to Chicago or if that’s just fanon but I’ve absorbed it into my consciousness as a fact) so it’s easier for dog sitting and Aaron doesn’t need to stay crammed in a cheap apartment and Kevin can just travel between that and wherever his team is based. (Aaron is furious because he is not a kept man. He refused Andrew’s help and how dare Kevin think he can just buy a house and-

He does move in anyway though cause his window has had a draft for months that makes chilly Chicago winters a NIGHTMARE and the sink in the bathroom drips constantly and it would be nice to have a garden for Bowser-)

So then- OMG THEY WERE ROOMMATES!

Anyway dog dads falling in love

Kevin manages to make it to the Olympics before he retires and has, essentially, a huge nervous breakdown despite the fact he had years to mentally prepare himself. Aaron helping piece him back together and finding new ways for him to focus his love of the game while also being a kickass doctor because Aaron Minyard? Multitasker pro

Grumpy boys out walking their dogs together in big coats and scarves 😌💖 their little family already pre-made by the time they get their dumbass acts together and realise they want to smooch 😤 Kevin being at home more so that Aaron can put more hours into HIS career now without worrying about the dogs, and Kevin having time to explore and learn about himself and his interests outside of exy. Aaron making sure he takes it easy and helping him with exercises for his arthritis and ways to tend to his chronic pain 🥹 and they just get to be domestic and stupidly in love and happy with their pups!!

(Bonus concept: Bed Spreader Extraordinaire Kevin Day who usually takes up the ENTIRE bed with his STUPID LONG LIMBS is actually the one that sometimes can’t get into bed in this verse, because Aaron sleeps curled up into a little ball, but the dogs sprawl out on either side of him as his protectors. Kevin standing shivering in his briefs like 🥺 Boudicca please move and let me into the bed 🥺 but this is what you get for impulse buying one of the sassiest and most stubborn dog breeds, Kevin-)

[bella-rose29]

Bright Young Soul

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Campbell Bain has a depressive episode, don't read unless you're up for some unhappy reading times basically, probably way too much italicising but oh well, I am not an expert on bipolar in any way and this is purely from what I saw in tota and research online, so please please please pick me up on anything I have done wrong, I also am not Scottish

based entirely on this post and the notes <3

Tag list: @bugbugboy, @biromanticboba, @heretoboogie

"Campbell, c'mon. Stop mucking about."

"Campbell, could ya keep the noise down?"

"Campbell, I'm busy."

"Not now, Campbell."

"Campbell, be quiet! I cannae hear myself think!"

"Quit fidgeting, Campbell!"

Campbell didn't want to stop mucking about, or keep the noise down, or quit fidgeting, and he had so many questions that needed answers and thoughts that needed sharing he was about to burst, and given he was in St. Jude's he couldn't very well start talking to himself, or they'd lock him up somewhere horrible. The nurses had been telling him those things all day, and when Eddie had turned up for his radio show Campbell had barely raised his head in greeting. He'd hoped that the older man would notice that something was off, and see what he could do to fix it, but when Eddie was only brusque with him and seemingly uncaring that Campbell wasn't wittering in his ear, it made Campbell sink further into himself.

The show went the same as it would on any other day, with the exception of Campbell's usual puppy dog energy, and when they had finished and were packing up, he felt even worse than he had before. Eddie hadn't noticed that anything was off, and Campbell was overthinking, wondering if the man actually cared about him or if it was all an act, like so many people had done before out of pity or the feeling that they were doing something good (they weren't, Campbell could usually see right through it and honestly it was kind of offensive).

"Campbell, can ye pass me that record, please," Eddie asked, arm outstretched. Campbell was so deep in his thoughts and spiralling further and further towards the edge he didn't notice, not really, registering the words but not really listening, and his eyes were focusing on nothing and everything at once, seeing the hand Eddie held out, but not seeing it.

"Campbell, for Christ's sake, what's the matter with ye? Stop acting daft and pass it over!"

The words cut deep, Campbell's brain letting them resonate and echo around his head as previous situations similar to this were remembered. "What?" he whispered, blinking the tears back. "I'm not daft!" His voice rose, practically shouting the last word which sounded so much louder than he'd meant in the tiny studio. "Nothin's the matter with me, Eddie, not to you, is there! Have ye even noticed me, Eddie? Have ye noticed me?"

"Of course I've noticed ye, Campbell, you're very difficult to miss!"

That hurt too, twisting the metaphorical knife deeper into Campbell's gut. He was tired, so fucking tired, and worn out, and exhausted, and every other synonym of the damn word, and his usual limitless energy was used up. He scoffed, all but throwing the record at Eddie and shoving his hands in his trouser pockets, hunching his shoulders.

"Ye know," he said, voice thick from holding back tears. "My dad used to say the same thing about me. I thought you were gonnae be different, Eddie, but you're just like him, aren't ye." The words kept coming after that, tumbling out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think them up, and he couldn't even remember what he was saying. More about his dad, about Eddie, about himself. He kept talking, running his hands through his hair in frustration and tapping his fingers on the desk next to him, just needing something to do, to fiddle with, to let out some of this newfound energy that stemmed from the floodgates opening. This energy hurt, though, and he didn't like it.

He could see that his tapping was annoying Eddie, but he couldn't stop, and he couldn't stop talking, ranting about pointless things, and he hated himself for it. He couldn't stop the tears now either, and they were pouring down his cheeks as he shouted. He vaguely made a note of nurses running down the corridor, and there was Stuart, and there was Eddie, standing watching Campbell and doing nothing, just like his father had done.

He could barely get the words out now, sobs wracking his body and making him choke, and he was so far off the edge that he'd fucking fallen off and was plummeting into nothingness, negative thoughts and memories surrounding him and making him fall faster. He couldn't speak any faster, and yet somehow he wasn't going fast enough, and everything was closing in on him and expanding away all at once, and he realised that he wanted them to sedate him, just so that he didn't have to deal with this anymore.

If they could keep him under forever that would be even better.

They came and grabbed him at some point, although Campbell wasn't sure when; it could have taken them two seconds or they could have been moving towards him for two hundred years. He'd lost all concept of anything other than his thoughts and the look on Eddie's face, and he was still shouting and yelling as they stuck the needle into his leg and wiped him out.

~~~

Eddie had been having a shit day, with MacAteer throwing him under the bus (again) for something he didn't even do, and Griffin making him go out and not letting Eddie come back in the building until he'd made five sales. He'd then discovered that his car had a flat tyre when he'd left for the day, and had to take it to the garage, needing a taxi to get to St. Jude's. The taxi driver had then gotten stuck in traffic, and Eddie was going to be late for his radio show. Somehow he still made it there in time to get set up and start without Campbell stepping in, but he was at the end of his rope and Campbell not listening to him had just pushed that big red button in Eddie, making him explode and shout at the boy. Campbell had flinched slightly, then fallen straight into shouting back at him, tapping and fidgeting, and Eddie could only stare as he went on, unable to speak. His protégée wasn't allowing much room for Eddie to talk, mind you, with his incessant chatter about his father (oh god, Campbell thought that Eddie was like his father), and pretty much anything else that came into his head. Rosalie had fetched the nurses, and now they were taking a hold of the boy and pushing him to lie over the desk so that they could sedate him properly. Campbell kept shouting, clearly unravelling with each second that went by, and Eddie felt awful, knowing that he had ignored the way that Campbell wasn't his normal happy self, and had been the one to cause this episode.

The next few days were absolute agony for him, since they weren't letting anybody see Campbell and Eddie had to live with himself and the lack of knowledge of when he could go and see the young man torturing him.

He was going to make sure that Campbell knew how sorry Eddie was, and that he was nothing like the man that called himself Campbell's father.

~~~

It was dark when Campbell woke up, groggy and both physically and mentally drained, and the only light in the room was the lamp on his bedside table. He accidentally stared at the bulb, blinding himself momentarily as he tried to work out who was sat next to him. The mop of dark curly hair leaned forward, and as Campbell's eyes adjusted and blinked away the last of the drowsiness he recognised the figure as Eddie.

"Whadda you want," he slurred, voice thick from being knocked out and his accent stronger than it normally was. He felt bad about the harsh tone, overwhelming guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave, but the last thing he remembered was Eddie sounding like- no. He couldn't go there again, couldn't think about that or he'd end up the way he was before. He knew he must have been sedated, since he never normally slept that much, but there were no memories in his head of why.

"I'm sorry, Campbell. I was having a shit day at work, and I know it's not an excuse but I am sorry. I was a dick to ye, and I shoulda noticed that ye weren't yerself, and I'm sorry," Eddie said, making tears well up in Campbell's eyes. He pushed them away, stopping them from falling as he heard his father's voice in his head telling him that 'real men dinnae cry, Campbell, so quit yer whining'.

"I'm sorry too, Eddie, I'm sorry." He was struggling against the guilt that wracked him, making him want to cry, and when it felt like he would burst if he didn't stop resisting he turned his head away from Eddie and sobbed into his pillow. Campbell felt Eddie move closer, the bed dip under the older man's weight as he laid a hand on Campbell's shoulder, thumb stroking gently in awkward consolation.

They stayed that way for a while, every now and then exchanging the words "I'm sorry" and "I'm sorry too" with each other, until after what felt like an eternity Campbell's sobs turned to sniffles, and he pushed himself up to sit next to Eddie on the bed.

He wiped his face with his shirtsleeves, cringing at the fabric when it came away soaked and grimacing when, as he sniffed to clear his nose, he got a mouthful of snot and phlegm. "Ugh, gross," he muttered, gladly accepting the tissue Eddie passed him and blowing his nose loudly. They sat side by side, not saying anything for a while. Eddie seemed to be debating where to go from here, what to do, or say. Campbell was kicking his feet, bare soles scuffing the floor, and fiddling with a bit of dead skin on one of his fingers.

"Careful not to pull too much, yeah? You'll end up stripping the thing bare and bleeding everywhere," Eddie joked quietly, trying to do something to raise his friend's spirits. Campbell moved his hands, placing them either side of his body so that he wouldn't be too tempted to start picking again. "I really am sorry, Campbell. I shouldnae have snapped at ye like that."

"I'm sorry too, Eddie. Not quite sure what for, mind, cannae remember most of it now. I know I went manic though, so... sorry, for... that."

"S'alright, Campbell. S'alright. C'mere." Eddie pulled him into an awkward hug, arm around Campbell's shoulders as the boy wrapped an arm around Eddie's waist, the other supporting his weight on the bed behind them. It was nice (if a little uncomfortable, but Campbell wasn't going to complain), being hugged like this, and he was sad when he needed to sit upright again to save his back from protesting against the angle anymore.

"Thanks," he mumbled, wiping away the tears that had snuck out at the knowledge that he was being held by somebody he considered a father.

"Anytime, Campbell. Ye ever need a hug, ye tell me, yeah? Likely that I'll need one too."

Campbell nodded, letting a small smile grace his face. Eddie's own smile appeared.

"There he is, he's coming back now." Campbell let out a wet laugh, nodding again and leaping up from the bed.

"Aye. Campbell Bain is back, people, back to be the 'Bain' of yer existence!" Eddie chuckled, glad to see the boy feeling better. He knew in that moment he'd do everything he could for this boy, this bright young soul, to make sure he knew that he wasn't alone in the world.

"I'll always be here for ye, Campbell. I mean it. The other day willnae happen again, yeah? Not like that. I've got ye."

"Thanks, Eddie. Thank you," Campbell said, sitting down again, expression earnest. "Really. I couldnae... I couldnae ask for a better person to look up to." Eddie smiled, clicking his tongue and tilting his head slightly as he ruffled Campbell's hair.

"Ye want a cocoa? It'll help, I'm sure."

"Please."

"Alright, ye wait here, I'll be back in a minute." Eddie left, heading in the direction of the kitchens. Campbell smiled after him, letting cautious hope enter his heart. Eddie was trying his best to make it up to Campbell, which was something his father had never done. Cocoa would help, definitely. And after cocoa, everything would start looking up.

[wildmoonworld]

Good Girl

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: alcohol, cussing, mental and emotional abuse, depression, sex (MINORS KEEP AWAY)

Summary: You were struggling to put yourself back together, thankfully you have two best friends that have been more than amazing to help you get back to reality. Until, Jake shows up….again.

Part 3

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It had been a couple weeks after New Year’s Eve, a couple weeks waking up to Danny sleeping peacefully next to you with only his boxers on. A couple weeks since, Jake ripped your heart out of your chest. Danny was more than amazing to you, when you were heading into a spiraling mental breakdown. Josh was there for you the last few weeks, letting you slip away into your depressed state on his couch. You practically moved into his place over the last few weeks, for which he offered a couple days ago if you would move into the spare bedroom. He was worried and concerned for you, he wanted to make sure to keep an eye on you.

“Danny was wondering if you wanted him to come over.” Josh says from the kitchen. You were laying on the couch, curled up watch some crime show.

“Will he?” you replied, peaking over the arm of the couch.

“I will let him know, but you might want to shower.” He says, you stand and throw the blanket on the back of the couch and begin to walk down the hall, towards the bathroom where you started your shower.

After showering, you could hear whispering coming from the kitchen. Sounded like Danny had gotten there while you were in the shower. Wrapping your towel around yourself, you open the door and the steam rolls out of the bathroom. Making your way down the hall, you stop before turning the corner to the kitchen, listening in on Josh’s and Danny’s conversation.

“How is she tonight?” Danny asked.

“She’s a lot better than last week, for sure.” Josh answers.

“Where is she now?” he asked another question.

“Showering, she might be out by now. You know where her room is.” Josh replies, almost in a chuckle. You could tell by the way Danny laughed, there was an eye roll not far after that.

“Daniel, why haven’t you spoke up yet?” Josh asked him.

“She’s broken, Joshua. I am not going to unload my feelings on a woman that is hurting.” He replies. Your heart begins beating faster by the second, your breathing is staggered, bringing your hands to cover your mouth. You hear the chair screech against the floor, jumping from being startled by the loud sound.

“Okay buddy.” Josh responds.

Tip toeing down the hall to get to your bedroom, Danny’s footsteps not far behind you. Pouncing onto the bed, still wrapped in a towel and hair is dripping from your shower. Trying not to make it obvious you were listening to a conversation that wasn’t meant for your ears. Danny walks through the door of your bedroom, his eyes are wide and his hand shoots up to his eyes covering them to give you privacy.

“It’s okay, it’s not like you haven’t seen anything before.” You say to him in a chuckle. His fingers separate, peeking an eyeball through to look at you.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Nodding your head, you pat the bed beside you motioning for him to sit with you. Dropping his hand away from his face, he walks over to you and sits on the bed. You reach over to his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. Danny has been one of your best friends for a few years now, he was a beautiful man, such a gentleman, caring and loving human. You adored the man he was, you didn’t know if you had feelings for him or not. There wasn’t one thing about this man that was bad.

“Thank you for coming over.” You whisper to him.

“Don’t thank me, Y/N.” he responds.

“I’m always going to be here for you, for anything you need.” He follows. Smiling up at him, allowing yourself to make eye contact with his deep brown eyes. His eyes were the prettiest shade of chocolate. Snapping away from his gaze, you stand up and walk over to your closet, picking through the old t shirts that you normally slept in.

“I have some t shirts at my place, if you’d ever want to go through them.” He spoke up, turning around to face him.

“Tomorrow?” you asked.

“Of course, anytime you’d like.” He responded with a smile. His smile was perfect, his teeth were perfect. This man was so gorgeous, you thought. Walking over to your dresser and pulling open the top drawer, sifting around to find your comfortable panties, grabbing a pair and throwing the shirt onto the bed beside him. Standing at the end of the bed, carefully stepping into your panties with your towel still wrapped around your chest. Danny’s eyes never break contact with yours, untucking your towel and letting is fall to the floor. His face is flushed, you could see his Adams apple bob up and down as he begins to get nervous.

“Can you hand me my shirt, love?” you asked him so sweetly. His eyes look down at the shirt beside him, slowly picking up the shirt to hand it to you. Not a word, his eyes ever so slightly look down at your exposed breasts, then quickly catching your gaze. You begin to smile.

“It’s okay to look, I don’t bite.” You whisper. Shirt in hand, you begin to pull it over your arms and over your head. The shirt drops down to your mid-thigh, walking over to sit next to him.

“Y/n, you don’t realize how beautiful you are….do you?” he says. His voice is almost in a whisper and his eyes are locked in with yours.

“It’s been kind of hard to believe that lately.” You say, looking down to your hands as you fidget with the rings on your fingers.

“I know. Believe me, honey. I would never lie to you.” He responds, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Can you lay with me until I fall asleep?” you ask, looking up at him. A smile forms upon his lips.

“You don’t ever have to ask.” He whispers, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist.

 

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You were beginning to pull through your depressive episode that Jake had put you so deeply into. Josh and Danny were a big part of helping you through any bad thought you had, you were grateful for the two of them.

One night, Josh decided on planning a wine night for the two of you. Which would consist of him cooking dinner and you supervising his cooking skills from on top of the counter along with a bottle of red wine. These were your favorite nights, it was a weekly thing you had begun to do to get yourself out of your head and honestly, it was working better than you thought. The aroma of chicken parmesan filled the room, Stevie Nicks playing in the background, Josh laughing at the god awful dad jokes you had told him. You were finally happy. Until…..

You hopped down from the kitchen island, placing your wine glass on the counter, running down the hall to the bathroom. While you were in the bathroom, you heard the front door open.

Your first thought, it was probably Danny stopping by to check on you, finishing up in the bathroom as fast as you can. You sling the door open and take off down the hall, turning the corner to the kitchen. There stood Jake, his back was turned away from you and your eyes make contact with Josh’s. Your body was frozen, your heart stopped, holding your breath and holding back the tears that you haven’t shed in weeks.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough, Jake?” Josh say to him, peering over his shoulder, not breaking eye contact with you. Josh was concerned for your mental health, hoping you wouldn’t spiral into another episode. Jake turns around to see you standing behind him, never breaking away from Josh’s eyes. Inhaling deeply, finally breathing. You can see Josh shaking his head, motioning you not to fall for whatever Jake was wanting from you.

“Can we talk for a moment?” Jake takes a step closer to you, your eyes shoot straight to his. His eyes were blood shot and swollen. As if he had been crying for days.

“Please, y/n.” following his question. Looking over to Josh.

“It’s okay.” You tell him before turning around to walk into the living area. Jake following close behind you, plopping down on the couch and pulling a blanket over your lap. Jake sits beside you, leaning over, his elbows are on his knees and his head was lowered between his shoulders.

“What is it, Jake?” you whispered, looking down at your newly fresh manicure. Danny had taken you to get your nails done a couple days prier. Sweet man, he is.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to hurt you the way I did. I’m an asshole and I don’t deserve someone like you.” He says softly.

“You’re right, but communication is big for me. All you had to do was tell me that I wasn’t what you wanted.”

“I know…you’re good for me and I know that now.” He says, looking over at you, his eyes are rimmed with tears. This man is broken and it written all over him.

“Jake, you are worthy of so much more than you believe.”

“I’m broken…” he says quickly

“Do you not realize that sometimes there are people who would sit and listen to you talk about everything that goes on in that pretty head of yours?” you asked him.

“Me, Jake. I have always been the one to tell you, you have someone to talk to and you push me away.” You followed, he stays silent, shaking his head in agreeance.

“I adore you, I care about you and I am here for you, Jake. What you did, hurt. I just wish you knew exactly what you wanted from me.” You say softly, dropping your head to hide the tears that are forming in your tear ducts. He lifts his head, shifting his body to face yours, placing his hands on either side of your face. A tear flows down his cheek and yours follows.

“I want you, y/n.” Jake whispers, his lip quivers from choking back the tears. He was trying his best to keep it together.

“Then fucking prove it, this is the last time. After this, don’t come back.” You responded, a tear trickling down your cheek. Jakes takes the pad of his thumb and wipes away the tear that had fallen.

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The night goes on, Jake decided to stay for dinner and wine. Josh didn’t like the idea of Jake being around you, occasionally he would ask you if you were okay or if he needed to ask Jake to leave. He was protective over you and you adored that about your best friend. Eventually, Josh ends up going to bed and the two of you are left sitting on the couch curled up to one another.

“How is Reed?” you asked softly, knowing talking about his son can be a touchy subject some nights. You begin to twist his necklace around your finger gently, patiently waiting for an answer.

“He getting so big, I will get him next month. So, I won’t be around town for a bit.” He responded, his smile lit up the entire room. Talking about Reed made him happy, sometimes it made him depressed and sad, he always felt so alone without having Reed. It broke your heart, knowing his time was always limited with him.

“That’s excited, I know you miss him tons.” You spoke up, catching his gaze. You always tried to make light of a situation.

“Will you come visit?” he asked, almost in a whisper.

“If that’s what you want.” Smiling up at him. He stands up and extends his arm out, gesturing to take his hand. Placing your hand within his, he lifts you off of the couch and leads you down the hall to your room. He opens the door, he stops and looks around the room. You have hung up tapestries all over your ceiling, hung paintings that you have had for years, and records are lined up on the walls. He turns around and looks at you.

“You moved in with my brother?” he asked, on the verge of laughing.

“He’s my best friend, plus he asked me to. Says he can keep a better eye on me that way.” You response, brushing his shoulder with yours to get into your room. He’s quiet.

Walking over to the bed, you begin to undress all the way down to your panties. You pull back the covers and slip into the sheets, Jake slowly making his way into the room towards the side of the bed. His eyes are amazed by the art hanging on the walls, he’s never seen this side of you. You were always a creative being, colorful mind, and a down to earth heart. He begins to undress, only being left with his boxers. Folding back the covers for him to slip in beside you, he lays flat on his back as he always did. He loved cuddling and holding you, while talking about life, emotion and things you both were going through. Lying in bed with this beautiful man, was the one time he would open up about himself, you appreciated him being so vulnerable with you during these times. Little did you know in a few months, those were the memories you cherished and missed the most.

Your head is on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, it was beating a little faster than normal. His eyes were still open, as if a thought was running through his pretty little head. Running your fingers gently, up and down his stomach.

“What’s on your mind?’” you whispered

“I view love differently, than most. It’s so hard to explain, I just know I’m not worthy of being loved.” His voices cracks with the response. He’s a sad individual, it broke your heart hearing him say he wasn’t worthy of love. When all you want to do is show him the love he deserves.

Your heart ached for him, felt for him. Sitting up beside him, throwing one of your legs over his pelvic bone. You straddle him, leaning down and placing a sweet kiss on his lips. You pull away and look into his eyes…

“I wish you would let me show you, how worthy you are.” You replied.

Running his hands up your thighs, back, until both of his hands were on either side of your face. He pulls you in and crashes his lips into yours. This kiss felt passionate, addicting and intoxicating all in one. Never wanting to stop the pure bliss you felt between you two at that moment. Sitting up, never breaking the contact between your lips, he rolls you over onto your back. The weight of him on top of you, was everything you had missed, his lips, his touch, his rock hard cock against your core. Bucking your hips, grinding your clothed sex against his. A moan slips free from his mouth, parting your mouth and sucking in his bottom lip between your teeth. Releasing his lip from between your teeth, his lip connect with your skin sending chills down your entire body. Open mouth kisses are placed against your skin, his lips reach your hardened pink peaks, taking you into his mouth. Swirling his tongue in circles, suckling the peaks until they are plump. His hands trail down your sides, sliding his fingers into the waistband of your panties, gently pulling them down your legs and tossing them on the floor. He sits up on his knees, still between your parted legs, he slides his boxers off exposing his throbbing, hard cock. He places his thumb over your pulsating clit, rubbing soft circles, making your back arch and your leg tremble on either side of him. Moans slip through your lips and he groans, being so pleased to hear you sing for him.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” He says, his eyes locked into yours, his fingers are picking up pace.

Taking himself into his hands, he guides his cock between your folds, playing with the sweetness you are unable to contain that is seeping out of you.

“Fuck….you’re so perfect.”  He groans, his voice is raspy and deep. His eyes are filled with lust and love. He lines himself up with your entrance, slowly sliding into you with a thrust. The two of you moan together, like the perfect symphony.

His hands are on either side of your head, thrusting into you faster and faster. His cock stretching you out so perfectly and filling you up, as if you were made for each other. With each thrust, he hits that one spot that makes you weak and your moans louder. Finally, your sight blackens, your head begins to spin and you’re unable to catch your breath. You have hit your sweet release, upon coming down his words become muffled. He approaching his climax.

“Fuck, I love you.” He says between moans.

Your eyes practically pop out of your head, hearing those words fall out of mouth like diarrhea.

“Are you being so serious right now, Jake?” you respond completely normal as if you aren’t in the middle of great sex.

“I love you, y/n.” he repeats, he could possibly be in the moment with what is going on. He could be genuine with his feelings right now, sadly you wouldn’t know for sure until after.

“I love you, Jake.” You reply, those three words, plus his name sent his climax through the roof. Tossing his head back, you can feel his warm release inside of you as he continues to pump his cock into you. He collapsed on top of you, out of breath and worn out. You can feel him pull out of you slowly, rolling over onto his back. You snuggle up against his chest, your mind is replaying those three words inside of your mind. Your mind is racing between ‘were you just in the moment?’ and ‘do you really, love me?’ Not really wanting to hear either of those answers, but you weren’t the one to hold back anything that came to your mind.

“Jake.” You whispered.

“Yes, baby?” he responded in a raspy voice, as if he was about to go to sleep.

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked softly.

“That I loved you?”

“Mhmm…” he shifted his body onto his side, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you close.

“Yes, I did. I care about you, I love you and I want to always make sure you’re taken care of.” You heart basically stopped, it felt as if you were being suffocated by his words. Being Jake, you couldn’t tell if he was playing with your heart or if he actually fucking meant what he said. You eventually let it go and didn’t want to respond. You knew the way you felt was true and you were able to show him how serious you were about loving someone so broken, the way he was.

The way this man used his words, they were powerful. His words were the easiest words to believe, yet the most intoxicating, soul crushing and hurtful words. Even when he put them together so beautifully, you loved him and you wanted him to be only yours. Deep down you knew that even if he was yours, he would never give you himself entirely. In fact he never gave himself entirely to his ex-wife, which is another reason they were divorced just 6 months after getting married. He was unfaithful, a manipulator, and a liar. He walked around with only lust in his eyes, not for the one woman who gave him a child, but for other women. What made you think he would be any different for you?

‘Stupid fucking girl.’ You thought.

[tlonista]

Astarion fic recs, Batch 2

Thanks so much to everyone who had kind words for my Astarion fic rec list! My habit continues unabated so I wanted to throw out another little batch of mostly recent, mostly hurt/comfort-oriented Astarion-centric fanfic that I liked. As before there's references to Astarion's past abuse and assault so mind the AO3 tags.

Anyway happy holidays fellow pale elf fans, pls tip me off if you watched the latest Larian animated short and felt moved to write about shivering blanket-wrapped Astarion sitting on Karlach's lap.

Incomplete Multi-Chapter:

The Friends We Meet in the Dark by Copaline

Astarion is captured by monster hunters while spiraling over how to earn Tav's affections. Second in a series, but can be read standalone; one of two chapters posted. Big fan of its protective f!Tav, and there's some fun banter with the rest of the gang.

I Don't Know You Yet by thbreakofdawn

Nicely executed modern Bloodweave social media (text messages and Twitter) AU. Astarion is a sex worker and Gale is a grad student struggling with his relationship to his girlfriend Mystra, and they strike up a text-only friendship after a random connection. Very effective use of the multimedia format.

If the Cross on the Door Doesn't Scare You by Aylwyyn228

Sweet, angsty "Astarion starves in the Shadow-Cursed Lands because he's too scared to ask for blood" fic with the added turn of Gale guessing exactly what's happening, but being too toxic-blooded to actually help unless Astarion tells the others about his vampirism.

a half-blown rose by winter_writes

Astarion's "Tav didn't kill Cazador" dialogue in the Patch 5 Epilogue is one of the saddest things in the game, and I'm so excited to see writers running with it. In this fic Astarion was recaptured by Cazador post-game and then finally freed thanks to a fire... but he's terribly injured in the aftermath and ashamed to have his ex-lover see him. Only one chapter so far but I'm a big fan.

death by rock & roll by falco_c

This hasn't been updated in a while and Astarion hasn't actually appeared in it yet, but I'm throwing it in as a bonus because I really love its Almost Famous-y music industry AU vibe. Its translation of the tadpole ensemble into rock-and-roll burnouts, featuring in-world interviews, is absolutely delightful.

One-Shots:

Untitled by trulycertain (Tumblr-only)

It's spawn Astarion realizing he can turn into a bat and flying around and getting tired with Tav around, that's it, that's the fic. Completely adorable fluff. But "Is this what it’s meant to be like? Being a spawn? Not a starved slave?" kills me.

Family by sword_and_lance

Astarion goes to see his family after being turned, and Cazador cements his control over Astarion by offering him some scraps of comfort in the painful aftermath. It's short and restrained and chilling and so so sad.

Pointy Ears by SpaceBarbarianWeird

Yes another fluffy fic, what am I coming to. But who doesn't want to read about Astarion rediscovering trust by letting Tav touch his sensitive pointy ears with some brief digressions into elven social norms and gift-giving.

Complete Multi-Chapter:

Desperate Measures by Asidian

One of the fics that inspired "If the Cross" above, and one of my favorite "Astarion in the Shadow-Cursed Lands" pieces. Very good at balancing a sympathetic take on the character with him being, like canon Astarion, deceptive and a little bit abrasive when cornered. Plus bonus fun with Scratch.

this is a gift (it comes with a price) by ryttu3k

A post-game Ascended Astarion fic in which AA is literally soulless and knows it, and his sometimes-lover Duke Wyll Ravengard discovers over a series of nighttime visits that he secretly hates it. One of my favorite Ascension fics in part because, intentionally or not, it feels weirdly true to the experience of depressive anhedonia?

The Light of the Seven by Verelia

@reddenmore mentioned this one in the tags on my last fic rec list and I wholeheartedly agree; it's a real good Szarr Spawn Family character study delving into the backstory and personality of each of Cazador's "children," including Astarion.

[isleofdarkness]

What are the sixes (Riah, Claudine, Mal, Jay, Evie, and Carlos) biggest fears?

What are their smallest fears?

-birb

Ooh, good one

Riah- two worst fears. The larger of the two is his power hurting or killing someone who doesn't deserve to be killed. The second one is anything happening to Hadie, intersecting with the first in that Riah is terrified he might accidentally hurt or kill Hadie. His most minor used to be his biggest fear, that his birth parents would come and take him away from Hades and Persephone. He used to have wake-up-screaming nightmares a severe panic attacks over this but, after Hades and Persephone spent a decade promising they would never let that happen, it's faded into the background. It's come back now that he's far away from his parents and they wouldn't know if his birth parents came for him, but it's a minor anxiety that he only thinks about when he's really spiraling. He recognizes that this one is irrational.

Jay- he also has two worst fears, one ever-changing and one staying the same since he was a child. The changing one always has to do with his father- what if his father does xyz? It was, up until his brief talk with Lydia, "What if my father finds out I sell myself?" Now it's "What is my father going to do to punish me?" Jafar has also threatened to hurt Evie or Carlos in the past to punish Jay, but now there's also Riah and Claudine and Jafar could definitely kill them, they don't have the same backing that Evie and Carlos have, not that Jafar knows. The permanent fear is "What if someone cuts off my hands?" It's a common punishment for thieves on the Isle and Jay is terrified of that happening to him. What would Jafar do to him if he couldn't steal? Death would be the best outcome and Allah, that's depressing. His most minor fear is Ace or Mischa Rasputin dying. They both mean a great deal to him but they're also both extremely hard to kill and unlikely to die anytime soon, so he's not too worried about that.

Mal- her worst fear is her mother hurting the people she cares about. It's happened before time and time again, but that doesn't mean Mal's desensitized to it. Her most minor fear, which should say a lot about the weight she has on her shoulders, is that her mother or someone else will kill her. And this point, it's barely a worry and almost a "Kill me, make my day" thing. The only thing she wouldn't like about being killed is the hell it'll send her section of the Isle into and the chaos it'll throw the politics of the Isle into.

Evie- her worst fear is her mother deciding to disregard her "marriage" to Ace and the fact that it "owns" her and her mother will sell her to someone else. Someone who isn't a gay CSA survivor, who would be all too happy to buy a sex slave. Her most minor fear? Probably Sykes trying to kill Agony again. It's always a possibility, but Want kind of eviscerated him for four hours the last time he tried, so he's probably unlikely to try again. Probably.

Carlos- his worst fear is always his mother. Her being within a mile of him is his greatest fear. His most minor fear, which should tell you a lot about how intense his other fears are, is his fear of dogs. Lydia (dog) can stay because if she's not a threat to Riah then she's probably not a threat to him (also he has several knives and Jay also has several knives,) at least for now, but she's on thin fucking ice.

Claudine- her worst fear is that Hades lied to her about "Oh, Jesus and Jehova? Yeah, they're both fine. Having Jesus around really got Jireh to chill out and the only people Jesus has a problem with are capitalists and totalitarians. Trust me, those two aren't gonna damn you to "Hell," which is, by the way, entirely controlled by me, who is not gonna send you to eternal damnation, for just existing as a human being." She worries he's lying about the two being forgiving and that, when she stands before them for her judgement, they'll be disgusted and cast her into Hell for all eternity. That's her biggest fear. Her most minor fear is her father will die, because she'll be relieved and that would be horrible of her. It'll make her an even more sinful monster for not honoring him. But he's currently immortal so this isn't high on her list of things that need worried about.