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pastshadows · 8 months ago

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Shadows of the Past

Chapter 16: Ruins

Summary: After a year of blissful cohabitation, Astarion disappears without a trace, leaving behind a heartfelt letter explaining his departure. Determined to find him, you traverse Faerûn in search of your lost love, only to realize that some absences are meant to be permanent.

Returning to Waterdeep, you find solace in the company of Gale as you come to terms with Astarion's absence. But just as you begin to heal, Astarion reappears, begging for a second chance at love.

The question looms: can you forgive his abandonment and trust him once more? As you grapple with your emotions and trauma, a sinister force lurks in the shadows, targeting you for unknown reasons.

With danger closing in, you must navigate the treacherous waters of trust, love, and betrayal to uncover the truth behind the mysterious entity's motives. Will you be able to reunite with Astarion while facing the demons of your past? Can you unravel the secrets that threaten your very existence?

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.9K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” You ask, glancing at Shadowheart.

Her eyebrows pinch, and she studies the map in her hands with Gale looking over her shoulder.

“This is the correct location, according to the map.” Gale says, with his fingers cradling his chin.

You walk through a grand wrought-iron archway toward the two-story manor with a facade of azure tiles that gleam in the sunlight. A marble staircase leads to the portico, lined with stately round columns and a double door with intricate carvings of mermaids and sea serpents.

“You look perplexed, Gale,” you say, as he comes up beside you with his arms crossed. “Something wrong?”

“Just lost in thought." Gale cants his head. "I cannot recall ever seeing this building before, and something with this much grandeur stands out.”

"So, are we just going to spend the day outside or are we going to discover what treasures this puppy has inside?" Hecat prompts with her voice high with excitement.

You barely manage to stifle the groan that tries to cow its way from your throat, but your face deforms into a disgruntled scowl despite your intentions to remain impassive.

Why did I insist on bringing her again? Ah-yes, because it was either this or leaving her alone with Astarion.

“We cannot just go barging into homes,” you conclude with an authoritative edge. It’s been a while since you had to take this tone with anyone, and it feels strange to be playing the role of the fearless leader again. “Gale grew up here. If he says he hasn’t seen this building before, then something is up, and we must proceed carefully.”

Hecat purses her lips with her hands on her hips, and then she laughs like an overly energetic child. “Of course, dragon girl. Whatever you say.”

“Well, it’s possible I missed it.” Gale says, trying to ease the tension. “Though, unlikely.”

“No.” Shadowheart hisses with distain. She looks at you with a mischievous smile. “Kamena is right, Gale. You wouldn’t miss a bright blue building in your hometown.”

You make a mental note to hug Shadowheart later. There’s a peculiar feeling rife in the air, and you glance around and study the environment. Though it looks picturesque, no birds fly in the sky above, no insects hover above the vivid yellow and blue flowers that line the gardens, and the salty breeze doesn’t rustle the trees or grass.

An illusion, and a sloppy one at that.

The Weave suffuses you, infusing every pore of your being, until the essence emanates from you in a blushing radiance. Reaching out, you project vines of power to twist and penetrate into the illusion and expel the magic that holds it in place.

The mirage flutters and dissolves away like paint on a canvas left out in the rain, revealing a forsaken structure with thorny, sunburnt vines that run up cracked walls of dirt-stained limestone.

“Someone went through a lot of trouble to hide this,” you mutter, drawing your quarterstaff, Markoheshkir. “Be on your guard.”

Gale fills himself with the Weave, Shadowheart brandishes her spear, and Hecat unholsters the sword she procured from the prison as you approach. The door squeaks on its hinges as you push it open and enter the grand vestibule. A discarded chandelier lays sprawled on the floor, which is layered with dust and rubble that grinds under your boots.

It doesn’t look like anything aside from rodents and insects has resided here in a long time as you search the forgotten manor. Clothing is strewn with holy moth-eaten rags hanging from wardrobes and chests as if the drawers were retching the clothing, indicating whoever lived here fled quickly. Jewellery of all kinds still sits on tarnished silver platters in the bed chambers.

“Don’t mind if I do!” Hecat yammers with a wide smile as she fills her pockets.

You roll your eyes as you flip through the embrittled pages of what looks to be an old journal, but the pigment in the ink has faded with age and become nearly unreadable.

Leaving Hecat to her ransacking, you meander through the upper-floor bedrooms and libraries, trying to imagine what this place would have looked like without the mould eagerly crawling up the walls, spreading its tendrils of decay, and the dreary, dirt-clad flooring. The ceiling was once frescoed to depict epic scenes of something that's no longer discernible through the fractures and decayed patches.

Shadowheart trots up beside you and whispers. “Hecat is going to need someone to carry her out of here if she keeps stuffing her pockets.”

“Good.” You lean close to Shadowheart, putting your arm around her shoulder. “I will happily leave her and her overstuffed pockets here.”

Shadowheart chuckles under her breath. “Me too, but I imagine we will have to drag Gale away.”

You wiggle your glowing fingers with a devious grin. “What do you think Sleep spells are for?”

Ducking into a bed chamber, you use the sleeve of your robe to wipe the grime from the window, allowing some light into the dim space. Shadowheart follows you, pulling out drawers and opening containers, analyzing everything with a quizzical furrow pinching her brow.

Your boots thud off a floor plank with a hollow plunk, making you stop in your tracks. Crouching, you brush away the debris and rap your knuckles against various boards until you find the source. It’s barely perceptible, but you can see the scratches where the beam has been moved.

“Shadowheart. Do you think you can pry this up with the tip of your spear?”

Shadowheart wedges the point of her blade between the board and pops it out to reveal a small compartment full of the silky remains of spider webs, and you cringe.

Shadowheart laughs. “Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of spiders.”

“Oh, don’t you start to!” You huff theatrically. “I take enough shit from Astarion over this.”

“Well, you did throw rocks at him that one time.” Shadowheart goads, trying to stifle her chuckling.

“Once! I did it once! Gods above. I’m about to throw rocks at you too!”

“Spiders, huh?” Hecat simpers, leaning against the doorframe with a smarmy grin. “Don’t worry. We all have our weaknesses. I’ve got you, dragon girl.”

You and Shadowheart glance at each other with palpable caution. Hecat has never been quiet, always stomping around Gale’s manor with footsteps so loud that it’s like her feet are made of lead. Yet here she is sneaking up and eavesdropping on your conversations. This one was innocent, but if she is capable of moving that quietly when she wants to, you will have to be more vigilant.

Hecat reaches into the hole, shooting you a smile that looks genuine but doesn’t reach her eyes, and produces a small diary with leather straps, keeping it tied shut. She hands the item off, probably unhappy that it’s not another gem or golden necklace for her to stuff in her already plump pack.

You open it carefully. The pages feel weak, as if they might fall to pieces like a dried leaf. The ink is dull, but there are passages that are legible, and you scan them. It’s written in an old dialect of common and speaks of meeting a handsome man in a tavern with eyes red like the sunset and skin pale and impossibly smooth like a pearl’s surface.

Several pages have to be flipped before you find another passage clear enough to read. It talks about sneaking out to meet the unnamed man in the rose gardens bordering the estate every night, how he seemed oddly cold when they embraced, and how his smiles were only ever tight-lipped.

Another excerpt speaks about sneaking him into the basement of the manor, falling in love, and how he spoke in sweet promises of eternity.

The rest of the words are illegible until the last page, which reads, “I am dead. I am dead. I am dead.”

By the time you look back up, Gale is standing with Hecat while Shadowheart reads over your shoulder.

Shadowheart shakes her head. “Poor fool.”

“I didn’t see a basement in this place.” You glance between Shadowheart and Gale, who both shrug.

You meticulously search the main floor for anything that looks out of place. Hecat and you move overturned furniture, Shadowheart tosses books off shelves, and Gale uses the Weave to look for any illusion that may be still at play, but all you get for it is dirt-streaked faces and grimy hands.

“You could just break the walls,” Hecat muses, looking around. “You’re powerful enough to do that, aren’t you?”

“What a bright idea!” You cannot keep the poisonous sarcasm out of your voice. “I will just bring the entire place down on our heads. That will surely do it!”

Hecat scoffs, but before she can lash you with a clever counter, Gale shouts, “My friends! I think I found something!”

Shadowheart pats your back as you trail behind Hecat with a fearsome frown. You really would like to melt her eyes from her sockets. She’s been eyeballing Astarion ever since you returned, and try as you might, letting go, or growing up, as Astarion so harshly put it, has been a challenge.

You’re trying, but insecurity is a rabid beast, and it hasn’t quite had its fill of you yet.

Gale points to an unremarkable shelf built into a wall. “Seek, and you shall find! There’s a draft from the cracks in the wood.” Gale grabs your hand, sticking it close. “Feel it?”

Although it’s barely perceivable, the air coming from behind the cracks is cooler than that of the ambient room. Your fingers trace around the edges. If there were any scratches or marks to indicate a way to open this, they’ve been hidden by peeling paint and swollen, cracking wood.

You fill yourself with the Weave making your eyes burn pink, and Shadowheart and Gale move away habitually, an old habit from your adventures. Hecat, on the other hand, stands close, tapping her foot impatiently. You’re very tempted to let her get caught in your destruction — an unfortunate accident — but Gale guides her away before you can make up your mind.

“Detono!”

The wood boards are thrown inward, hailing splinters with a loud boom. The dank, mildewed air fans your sweaty face as you peer into a dark corridor. Shadowheart casts Light on her spear, and you hold fire in your palm as you make your way through the cramped alley with mindful steps until you come to a stone staircase that winds down.

The shadows seem to stretch and distort along the stone walls ominously, and your footsteps echo throughout. It takes minutes to reach the bottom, where it finally opens up into a room with a dirt floor. There are dirty, hay-stuffed mattresses strewn about, but the room extends too far to see properly.

You crouch as Shadowheart stops by your side. You hold your arm out to halt her and scan the earthy ground. “Traps.”

Astarion taught you many things — identifying traps was one of them — but he laughed boisterously until tears shone in his eyes when you asked him to teach you how to disarm them.

“Ah-no.” Astarion giggles mirthfully. The harder you scowl, the funnier he thinks it is.

“What?” You pout and shoot him the puppy eyes that you know he has a hard time refusing. “Please?”

Astarion smirks, leaning back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head. “You can look at me with your sad puppy eyes and precious pout all you like, darling. The answer is still no."

“Why not?” You snort. “Don’t you think it would be prudent for me to know? What if I get myself trapped somewhere?”

“Well, since I go where you go, I don’t see that being a problem.” Astarion grins handsomely, fangs peeking out from the perfect bow of his lips.

“You’re scared I’m going to blow myself up, aren’t you?”

“Scared?” He chuckles with a highly arched brow and a slight shake of his head. “No. I have no doubt you will blow yourself up. If you die, who is going to light the fire for me? Gods forbid I would have to return to doing it the old-fashioned way. With these nails? Truly a travesty."

“You know that I am well aware you can cast Fire Bolt, right? I mean, you don’t cast it well, but well enough to light the fire."

“Don’t cast it well? Hells below.” Astarion groans. “It’s a cantrip; there’s hardly any skill needed for such child's play. The same cannot be said about disarming traps. If you fuck that up, you die, and your dexterity is atrocious. I’ll leave the magic to you, and you leave the traps to me, yes?”

“Fine!” You relent, giving your foot a stomp because you know it will earn you another lilting giggle from him, and it’s somehow the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard. “I didn’t hear any complaints about my dexterity last night.”

"Sassy tonight, are we?" Astarion smiles, patting his lap. “Do you ever stop thinking about sex?”

“With you?” You settle with your legs at his hips and his hands around your waist. “Never.”

“Well, stop thinking and start doing, my sweet.”

Returning at night is a dangerous prospect. You’ve been doing most of your scouting during the day and making sure you’re well within the safety of the manor long before twilight blankets the city.

You sigh. “We will need to return with Astarion before we can proceed any further.”

“Oh, goody!” Hecat squeals. “I cannot wait to see the vampire in action. That must truly be a real pleasure to see.”

You close your eyes tightly, scrunching up your entire face with a white-knuckled grip on Markoheshkir.

It would be so terrible if she tripped and fell into the traps. Wouldn't it?

“That vampire has a name,” Shadowheart scolds with a surly intonation. “And you would do well to mind your tongue, or you’ll find yourself on the streets.”

“Now, now,” Gale mewls in his too-cordial, assuaging intonation. “I’m sure Hecat didn’t mean to offend.”

“I—“ Hecat trips over her own words. She tries to keep her voice steady, but you catch the faintest tremble of dread braided with embarrassment. The Tiefling doesn’t want to be left on the streets, it seems, but you cannot help but wonder if it’s all an act. “I didn’t mean to antagonize anyone. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.” Hecat grabs your arm, forcing you to turn and look at her. She pleads, “Especially you. Truly. My mouth can run a little brainlessly. I’m sorry.”

She sounds sincere, and her eyes don’t radiate any ill-will. Guilt sneaks up on you like a shadowed figure, unnoticed until it’s standing behind you and smothering your conscience in its dark silhouette. This woman has been decent to you. In prison, she protected you from the riffraff and was essential to your escape; outside of it, she’s done nothing more than make obtuse comments and salivate over Astarion, but most people do the same when in his presence.

You wonder idly if there is anything you can do to make him slightly less earth-shatteringly handsome — a moronic contemplation. Your best idea is that you could polymorph him into a sheep, but knowing him, he would find a way to make even that look good.

Ridiculous, bafflingly beautiful man.

With a lungful of musty air, you acquiesce and try to gag the mistrustfulness that has made its home in your bone marrow. “It's alright. Let's return home, and we can think about if we want to return here at night. We could be walking straight into a trap.”

Astarion greets you, standing just shy of the sun flooding in from the door, having heard your approach. “Gods. You’re positively filthy. What in the Hells were you up to? You look like you’ve been rolling in dirt.”

“What? Not going to give me a welcome back hug, lover?” You tease.

“Bloody Hells no,” he taunts, quirking a brow at you with a mock disdainful grin. “You seriously cannot expect me to sully all of this with all of that.” He gestures wildly toward you.

“I’m certain I recall you enjoying a little roll in the dirt once in a while.” You taunt, shimming your shoulders with a whimsical smile.

“Good Gods, you two really haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Shadowheart chuckles, placing her spear on the weapon rack. “At least take it upstairs, will you?”

Astarion smirks with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Gladly.”

Hecat strolls past Astarion without even glancing his way, and you wonder if the woman has finally — fucking finally — taken the hint, but there is still a slight sway to her hips and the tip of her tail ghosts over his upper thigh. Whether it was done on purpose or by accident, there’s no way to tell.

Astarion darts to the side at the unexpected contact, and his features contort in a knee-jerk response. He swallows hard, making his Adam’s apple bob, and you see it written in his eyes.

Disgust. Loathing. All those feelings he tries so hard to forget.

You seethe, your skin worming over your frame in a sea of flames, and you step forward with magic braced on your fingertips. Astarion slips in front of you and shakes his head in a silent plea to overlook it. It makes you physically ill, but you yield and stalk upstairs to your room to change into something less covered in muck.

“Thank you,” Astarion murmurs.

“For?”

“I do love it when you act pig-headed,” he grunts, currying his fingers through his hair. “Hecat. I know you saw it, and I know you saw my reaction to it.”

“She made you uncomfortable,” you hiss under your breath, tossing your dirty robe and trousers away aggressively. You want to say she is lucky to still have her life, and that is a godsdamned truth. Relax, you think. Astarion is capable of taking care of himself. He needs my support, not my ire. You take a deep breath and say, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, really,” Astarion laments, sitting on the bed with his hand on his forehead. “Not that you’re not aware of anyway. It was a spontaneous response to being touched in a way I wasn’t expecting, and perhaps a little too close to home, if you catch my drift, but I am not convinced it was purposeful.”

Sometimes you wonder if you pushed him too hard in the Shadowlands when he confessed. Should you have backed off and been his friend instead of his lover? Is that what would’ve been better for him? In the moment, it felt right to hug him, but sometimes you look back and see it as a selfish thing to do when he was telling you he didn’t enjoy intimacy.

Oh? Intimacy brings up feelings of disgust and loathing? Well, let me press my body right up against yours without asking!

Foolish fucking woman.

You cannot help but worry that you cause the same discomfort on occasion when you touch him unexpectedly. Though his issues surrounding affection are difficult for him to navigate, they are also undeniably demanding of you. Where you find solace in his touch, regardless of whether it’s expected or sudden, the same cannot be said about him, and it’s all too easy to misplace the mindfulness of that fact.

How often do you touch him out of reflex and cause the same feelings to crop up? How many times has he ignored it and simply let it happen without saying a word?

“Don’t.” Astarion pleads suddenly right in front of you, taking your hand and pressing it to his chest in the way he knows soothes you. His face and voice are a ledger to his anxiety. He blurts frantically. “Don’t pull away from me now. Don’t run from me. Please.”

In another lifetime, you would’ve asked the questions plaguing your mind without hesitation. You have memories of when communication was harmonious and uncomplicated. He would tell you when you were being an obstinate, pigheaded child, and you would tell him when he was being a haughty, old prick.

And then he left me, you think, in the dead of night.

That time is dead, buried in a graveyard of uncertainty and doubt. You’re beginning to trust him; day by day, it gets easier and a little less daunting, but will you ever be that confident in your relationship again?

Astarion’s crimson eyes don’t leave yours, and his thumb sweeps across the back of your hand, the picture of patience. You allow your body to lean into him slowly so that he knows your intention — a gesture of comfort and reassurance that you aren’t going to race out the door like you’ve done on so many occasions. His response is unforced and natural, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight.

“Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours, my love.” He coos, soft and gentle, in that whisky-warm voice that allays your turbulent thoughts. “You can talk to me about anything.”

You mull it over in your head, not completely sure that you can handle starting down this particular road. Quiet minutes stretch out between you. Astarion’s hand rubs slow circles across your back, but he does not press you further.

“Do I ever make you feel like that?” You mutter against his chest, sheltered in his arms from whatever painful truths this ends with. “I forget sometimes to make my intentions to touch you obvious or known. I need you to remind me when I lapse.”

“Oh, love, no.” Astarion smiles as you venture a glance up at him. He leans forward but halts inches above your lips, making you meet him halfway. You kiss him, your hand caressing his cheek. “When it’s just us, you needn’t be heedful of when or where you touch me, Kamena. You haven’t made me feel that way in some time, but if you ever do, I will tell you. I do not intend to keep anything from you again.” He reassures.

“Okay.” You exhale heavily through your nose and try to relax the rigidity in your body. “I still get scared sometimes that you’re going to leave again, that I’ll wake up one morning and you’ll be gone.”

“I know,” Astarion sighs, kissing your forehead. He takes your arms and gently guides them around his waist, encouraging you to touch his back with a steady gaze. When you hug him, you rarely wrap yourself around his waist, ever mindful of his back and scars. It is a show of how much he trusts you and how your touch does not bother him. “I know it will take time, and I will never stop trying, but do you think you will ever be able to trust me again?”

“I’m trying,” you reply truthfully, even though it’s far more complex than that. You bury your face in his chest, finding it easier to confess when he isn’t staring at you with those eyes that impair your ability to speak honestly. “It just... it still hurts.”

“I’m well aware. You mutter in your trance sometimes, begging me not to go or to come back.”

A flush of embarrassment tidal waves through you, pricking across your skin all the way to the tips of your ears. Hells. You knew you often woke up screaming, but you didn’t realize you were also talking during your rest.

You wave it off, trying to play it as insignificant and something you can easily disregard.

Astarion grabs your arm. His touch is gentle, but his expression is grave. “No. Don’t pretend it’s nothing when it is anything but.”

You ground yourself and attempt to persuade him. “They are just dreams, Astarion. It’s really not— “

“Serious?” Astarion retorts, clearly a little irritated that you think you can manipulate him into believing this little white lie. “It is significant, Kamena. Those fears, the ones I caused, do not just infect your dreams; they bleed into the waking world as well. I see them on your face; endeavour to catch them before they latch on and take root; keep them at bay as much as I can.

“I do not begrudge you, but don’t discount your residual pain.” Astarion looks askance, his eyes darkening like cloudy skies. “If you minimize it, then you also discard the effort I am putting in to dispel them and prove that I am here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I--" you stutter, trying to govern the impulse to keep cementing your suffering behind a wall and hope he doesn’t see it. Your throat feels dry all of a sudden. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I know this has been difficult for you as well. I didn’t mean to undervalue your efforts.”

Astarion’s eyes return to yours, full of hope and appreciation for acknowledging that you know he’s trying. “Thank you. Now, quit leaving me in this dreadful suspense. Did you find anything on your little expedition today?”

You dig through your bag and hand him the diary. “Not much, but the place was glamoured like the bog, if you remember.”

“Do you think my memory really that fickle?” Astarion scoffs while he pours over the pages. “I may not remember everything from two centuries ago, darling, but I vividly remember a couple years ago, especially your sun-kissed skin, rosy cheeks, and eyes that could slow galaxies. Though, I would have preferred if you had left that illusion in place.”

“Perhaps it would have been more pleasant, but it was pretty funny to “Baaa” at the Redcaps, no?”

Astarion laughs. “You surprised me that day.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” Astarion simpers with a smug grin. “I did not expect you to bleat like a sheep so well — a flawless performance, truly.”

“A flawless performance, truly,” you repeat, doing your best to imitate him with a mocking flair.

“Sorceress.” His eyes swing up from the journal with a handsomely quirked brow. “Not half bad! You’re improving.”

You giggle at his praise. “Do you still have armour and weapons, Rogue? Or do we need to go on a thieving spree?”

That gets his full attention, and Astarion’s head jerks up. “I would never say no to a night of splendid depravity, but I do indeed still have my armour and weapons. Why?”

“There’s a basement positively brimming with traps that need disarming.”

“Hm, well, now I kind of wish I picked the thieving spree.” Astarion pouts. “Disarming traps all night sounds like much less fun.”

“You could always teach me how,” you taunt.

“This again? Gods.” Astarion groans, smoothing his hand down his face, exasperated. “The answer will be no until the end of time, sweetheart, but nice try.”

“You suck sometimes.”

Astarion laughs, saunters over, and folds his arms around you. He presses the sculpted muscles of his chest against your back and kisses your neck, tracing his lips up the column. “I am a man of many talents. I suck, bite, and lick, if you ask nicely enough, love.”

“Please.”

“Good girl,” he purrs.

Approaching the derelict estate slowly, Astarion’s eyes flit about the shadows as he methodically scans every concealed corner. He holds out a hand, halting you and Shadowheart at the archway, and listens. You and Shadowheart know this routine well, and you stand muted and motionless until Astarion indicates otherwise.

“I don’t hear or smell anything out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean they are not waiting downwind or out of sight.”

“You don’t say.” Shadowheart snickers satirically. “I would never have guessed that. Thank you, Astarion, for your impressive observations.”

“You’re very welcome, flower.” Astarion drawls with a boyish grin.

It feels like old times watching Astarion in his strikingly etched, black leather armour with gold stitching and buckles. Shadowheart still wears the Adamantine armour from your travels, but it’s been dyed sky blue, white, and gold. You adorn Wavemother’s robe, dyed deep lilac, orange, and black. The chains have been altered to include dragons that appear to soar up your chest.

It is, unsurprisingly, Astarion’s favourite among your robes.

Brandishing Markoheshkir with a flourish, you keep the Weave poised at your fingertips as you make your way inside.

“Do you think I could have a little look around?” Astarion asks, looking at you for permission as if you were still the leader of the ragtag group of misfits. “Perhaps I will find something you… overlooked.”

“Missed,” you grunt. “You want to look for things we might have missed. Be my guest, but if you’re looking for valuables to steal, Hecat already pocketed them all.”

Astarion nods, strolling off to pick through the ruins of someone’s life long since dead and turned to bone dust. Your fingers pass over dainty figurines that are chipped, dulled, and antiquated.

“How did you get Hecat to stay behind?” Shadowheart asks.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I can be exceptionally persuasive, and if that fails, intimidating.”

“Oh,” Shadowheart picks up a tattered book, tossing it aside. “How could I ever forget your silver tongue? It got us into and out of so many situations.”

“Didn’t it?”

“Who do you think these people were?” Shadowheart’s brows furrow. “They were obviously affluent and left in a hurry, but people with this type of money don’t tend to just go missing without notice.”

“Left, taken, or were killed.” You cast Light on your quarterstaff to illuminate the gloomy space and peer around.

“Killed,” Astarion concludes, descending the stairs with silent but rapid steps. “Massacred really.”

“How do you know?” Shadowheart frowns.

“Come now. Need I remind you that I’m a vampire?” Astarion crouches, sweeping away the layers of grime to reveal tenebrous, old floorboards. He twitches his fingers at you, and you toss him your glowing quarterstaff. He hovers it above the cleared patch and gestures toward an almost invisible discoloration. “Blood,” he concludes. “Very, very old, but blood nonetheless. It’s positively hither and yon in this place.”

“Hither and yon?” Shadowheart giggles. “Hells below. I do forget how old you are.”

“Curious.” Astarion arches a brow at her with a dastardly gleam in his nebulously red eyes. “I never forget how much of a child you are.”

Shadowheart scoffs indignantly, her arms crossing with a scowl.

Astarion chuckles, spinning Markoheshkir like he would his daggers, and then handing it to you. “Well, shall we head down into whatever horrors await us? You’ve only paid for my services until dawn, sorceress. It will cost you extra if I have to make an additional visit to this hellhole.”

“I don’t know if I can afford your fee, Rogue.”

Astarion pivots on his heel, tugging you by the waist into a chaste kiss with a knavish grin. “I am positive we can work something out, love.”

Shadowheart grunts her displeasure, making Astarion smile against your lips. You give him a playful shove away and point. “I’m not paying you to stand around.”

“Oh,” Astarion murmurs with a wink. “I do like it when you take charge and boss me around.”

Descending the stairs is even more imposing with the knowledge that you could be walking straight into a trap. The drum of your heartbeat spikes, and your breathing starts to quicken. Astarion glances back with a nod that tells you he still hasn’t detected anything unusual lurking in the abyssal depths. He offers you his hand, and you take it gladly.

At the bottom, you, Shadowheart, and Astarion all shuffle into the minimal space that Astarion indicates as a safe zone. Each of you tries peering into the nethermost bowels of the basement, but the shadows are far too thick. Even the Light emanating from Markoheshkir is hardly enough to brighten the vicinity around the three of you.

Shadowheart stares at the ground with a mix of trepidation and hesitancy. “Can you disarm traps in such low light, Astarion? Safely, I mean. I rather like my limbs attached to my body.”

“Not all traps are bombs, my dear.” He drawls nonchalantly, taking your staff and holding it out over the ground. “And these are an invigorating mix between acid and explosives. Hmm. If the acid is combustible, we would be in for quite the show. Not to worry. I can defuse these in my sleep. However, I’ll need some light, so Kamena, you need to stick close to me and step only where I indicate, understand?”

“Are you sure?” You ask, gripping his arm.

“If I was not sure, I would not have you follow me. I would never put you in danger.” Astarion assures with his eyes anchored on you, covering your hand with his own. “Do you trust me, Kamena?”

A nod to your earlier conversation where you admitted you’re still afraid he’s going to leave. You meet his gaze resolutely. “I trust you. Lead on.”

Astarion leads you through the tangle of traps, pointing where to place your feet. With Markoheshkir gleaming and slung across your back, you let fire hover in your palm at a distance Astarion deems safe and impel the element to burn white-hot. It is, admittedly, an excessive expenditure of your sorcery.

Even with Astarion’s mastery, it’s a slow-going process. There are far more traps than you were able to perceive at first glance, and the room extends further back than you anticipated. It seems every time Astarion has you proceed, you get naught more than a couple of shuffling steps before he’s crouching over another trap lying in wait for a careless foot. You glance back at Shadowheart, who has cast her own weapon with Light and call back to make sure she’s safe.

“Tell Astarion to bloody hurry up!” She grunts. “I think he’s out of practice.”

Astarion rolls his eyes, groaning under his breath as he fiddles with the device before him. You watch the deftness of his fingers as he makes short work of the mechanisms. It’s obvious why he refuses to teach you this particular skill. You wouldn’t possess enough patience or adroitness to perform this task. How Astarion knows which wires to cut, levers to adjust, or shells to remove is a mystery to you. They all appear different visually.

“She knows I can hear her, yes?” Astarion grumbles, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“She knows. Are you getting tired? We could take a break.”

“Tired?” Astarion quirks a brow at you with a frown. “What gives you that impression?”

“You’re sweating,” you reply bluntly.

“Yes,” he says snidely. “You are hovering a white-hot orb of flame over my head.”

“Why didn’t you just say something?” You scold him, trying to hide embarrassment. You know you’re being overzealous with the brightness. “I think I can coerce it to burn cooler.”

It’s an utter certainty that you can; fire is in your blood, and it bows to you, but it will require more endurance. As adept as you are, power is not limitless.

“I didn’t say anything because it’s kind of like being in the sun again, Solicallor.” He smiles authentically, but there is a sadness behind it that he doesn’t try to hide.

He misses the sun.

You nod your understanding, but still focus on marginally reducing the heat.

“How did you learn this?” You blurt out the question that’s been whirring around your mind since you started watching him.

You can’t imagine a magistrate would have much use for this, even a crooked one. Picking locks, absolutely, but this?

“Books at first.”

“Books?”

“Yes, darling, books. You know those things with paper and words all bound together? Books.” He teases.

“Ha-ha.” You say flatly. “I meant it more like you can learn this from books?”

“The basic principles of it anyway.” Astarion nods. “The application of them requires a little more hands-on experience.”

“There is not much to do during the day when you’re a vampire, besides trance, so I would read.” He glances up at you. “At night, after my orders were completed, I would peruse the city and disarm every trap I found. I blew myself up, poisoned myself, and had my skin eaten away by acid plenty of times before I got it right. Cazador would get positively peeved when I returned injured. It was good fun. Looking back at it now, I think I was trying to get myself killed, either by the traps themselves or Cazador.”

He seems bemused by the whole reminiscence, and you’re trying to decide whether to be horrified or not.

“Vampire spawn are obnoxiously hard to kill.” He muses thoughtfully. “I think that’s the last of them.” He stands, eyeing the ground and looking for anything he might have missed. He reaches for the quarterstaff draped across your back. “May I?”

You nod, and he takes it. He instructs briskly. “Stay here. I’m going to double check.”

“Astarion…”

Astarion squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “If one of these things blows up on me, I will survive — a little blood and I’ll be right as rain — but if one blows up on you, it could kill you, and I would never be able to forgive myself. Please don’t be mulish for once. I will be right back, and you’re more than welcome to continue scowling at me.”

You huff, rubbing your forehead. “Fine.”

Astarion strolls off confidently while you mutter under your breath, keeping the fire in your palm animated mostly for the solace it provides. You observe Astarion’s movements only by the lambency of Markoheshkir bobbing around in the dark like a dancing spectre.

He returns, calling out to Shadowheart to let her know it’s safe to move about.

“Should we spread out and search, or should we stick together?” Shadowheart asks, directed at you. “How big is this place?”

“I’m not sure.” Spreading out doesn’t sit well with you when you don’t know what could be skulking around in the darkness, but time is also of the essence, and it would be more efficient. You find yourself giving instructions, falling back into the leader role you so loathed. “Spread out, but always keep each other in sight. We can work our way down systematically.”

You recast Light on one of Astarion’s daggers, making the spell keeping Markoheshkir aglow fade. Astarion opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. “I have fire. I don’t need it.”

It surprises you when Astarion merely nods and concedes. He knows well enough that there’s nothing he can say to change your mind, and it’s a pointless venture to try.

You can veritably hear him in your head calling you pig-headed, and you smirk to yourself as you start combing through the space. Mattresses litter the ground, stained and soiled. Pieces of loose paper, utensils, cracked or broken dinnerware, and sometimes stuffed animals are scattered around chaotically.

When you finally get to a wall, it’s just plain bedrock. This place is more of a cavern than a basement. Droplets of water dribble down the stone, and gnarled roots reach out from the ceiling like spindly fingers. You swallow hard when you come across sets of rusty shackles and bindings affixed to the walls, nailed straight into the stone. A shiver runs down your spine; whether it’s from being cold or your increasing disquietude, you’re unsure.

It may have been prudent to wear a thicker robe.

You, Shadowheart, and Astarion don’t need to communicate much as you work your way through foot by foot. It takes little more than a glance or a curt nod for any of you to indicate you’ve found nothing and it’s time to proceed.

The nostalgia is equal parts wonderful and unnerving. You cannot deny that you enjoy having a clear goal — the danger and exhilaration of peril — but the small voice of reason affirms that this, too, is another way of running from yourself.

Barrelling headfirst into hazards gives you something to focus on instead of facing the fact that something within you is broken, perhaps beyond repair, and you don’t have to admit to yourself the thing you fear most — that you will never be able to trust Astarion again and any chance of a real relationship is fated to fail.

Can you go to bed every night terrified that when you wake, he will not be there? Can you spend the rest of your days wondering if today is the day he disappears?

Furthermore, is it fair to keep him with you if you’ll always doubt him?

Your inability to let your fears go and move forward affects him just as much as it affects you. Would he be better off finding someone else — someone who can be with him without reservations, someone who can love him completely and utterly without worry.

He deserves that, the kind of love you had for him before, and you’re not sure you will ever be able to get back to it.

“Kamena!” Astarion hollers with a too-high, almost panicked timbre that rips you from your contemplations.

You lunge into a sprint, Shadowheart following closely behind, both of you with spells already sparking on your fingertips, and Markoheshkir poised by your side. In your alarm, your mastery of your dragon Hellfire slips, and flames writhe over your body like a nest of molten serpents wrestling to escape.

Astarion is standing by a dilapidated desk, with moss growing over the surface and up the tottery legs. He holds a piece of wet parchment in his hands that he’s inspecting with a dismayed look.

He hands it to you when the flames around you wane. “Recognize these?”

The red ink has been smudged and streaks down the parchment like crimson tears, but you would know these markings anywhere. You’ve been trailing your fingers over similar ones every night.

Infernal script.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I love reading your comments ❤️

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

Shadowheart is the best ❤️

Infernal script - rarely a good sign.

Still wanna know your thoughts on Hecat!

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #astarion x mc #astarion #astarion smut #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #shadows of the past #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x oc #astarion x named tav

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howlonomy · 9 months ago

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in all the 'trauma siblings' stuff with Clover & Kanako, I keep coming back to thinking about how Flowey engages with this

Like, here's someone who went through an at least similar ordeal of getting a human soul mixed into a monster body, leading to a lethal, traumatic injury, into a rebirth into a new body whose physical and emotional state are all way the fuck out of wack

Except Flowey was shaped a lot by having to go through the traumatic aftermath alone, and lives in the weird space of having experienced unknown years of resets but also is still mentally kind of a child

So I have to think that Flowey sees these kids and that little Asriel part of him is screaming "don't let them wind up like us", but being Flowey he also has no idea how to really comfort anyone.

Leading to sweet moments like Clover collapsing somewhere and before anyone else in their family can even pick up on something being wrong, there's already vines springing up to catch them, because of course Flower would know how to spot weakness in people after years of doing that, but now there's a productive positive use for that instinct and it's nice

But also moments like "Gee how do I cheer up Kanako about that appointment with Alphys... I know! We'll torment her! What a wonderful idea!" Because hey, a little bit of sadism always cheered him up when he was suffering

And he'd probably settle toward a crass & hyperbolic style of comforting people with hit-or-miss moments, like a sort of "Wow clover you ate SHIT just now", trying to get them laughing at the misfortune instead of crying, but obviously sometimes It's Not The Time For That or he reverts a bit back to thinking something really fucked up like "Man, that person was really rude just now, we should kill them and everyone they love" and the kids look back at Flowey like "dude what the fuck"

And everybody's different ways of processing trauma are constantly both helping and clashing with each other as these kids help each other figure this shit out because as much as the adults want to help nobody but these 3 can really come close to understanding how it feels

this has been a big ramble for an ask and not really an ask but I wanted you to have this

THIS IS SOOOO GOOD BECAUSE YOURE 100% RIGHT

flowey struggles with knowing the concept of empathy and compassion but not really. KNOWING it. i imagine he can at least remember how it feels being asriel and during the final boss but. its easy to know what it is and harder to put it into practice when you dont actually feel it

i think youre right in that he would try his best to help but not really know HOW. like it takes him a bit to realize that oh, i can see the weaknesses in people, whatdo i do with this information now that i cant use it to exploit them? what can i do to help instead of harm? what is objectively the GOOD thing to do with this information?

hes still an asshole and a bitch but he cares. hes learning to anyways. even if he missteps a lot the people around him are forgiving and willing to help him on the right path and correct him. i love…. flowey :[

#asked and answered #monster clover au #mcau lore #i love character studies and analysis. i love them so much #im not very good at writing them but read this was absolutely a joy #ohhgghh flowey kanako clover frisk friendship is literally everything to me #flowey kanako and clover support circle where they talk about trauma #flowey and kanako talking about isolation and the lab #AUAUGHUHH

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rottenpumpkin13 · 11 months ago

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Thinking about how vindictive and spiteful Sephiroth is post nibelheim and how comparatively docile he was beforehand and also thinking about that saying about how dogs that dont bark are the most dangerous because there are no warning signs.

I think Sephiroth has been bottling up rage (knowingly or not) about his situation, about everything for years and years and years.

I think a commonly overlooked aspect of chronic abuse that you know you cant get reparations for is the rage and spite. You have to make nice all the time with people who hurt you and never get any closure about it. The rage is something treasured because it means that its not just in your head- they did hurt you. Even if you forget what they did exactly (and probably will because chronic trauma does funny things to your brain), you dont forgive because that means you arent prepared to twist the next blow awry. You learn to take every vindictive shred of pleasure of any little bad thing happening to the people responsible because there is no justice here you will ever get- so its the closest next thing.

I think its not a stretch that Sephiroth for years very quietly nursed that same rage and spite, and when he finally slipped his leash he had no way to learn how to use it constructively -no desire to because that hot burn of spite is so addictive of a high- and just fucked over everyone as much as possible and some people in particular.

Before Nibelheim he probably never would have acted on it beyond mild petty malicious noncompliance and 'losing paperwork', but it was probably always lingering.

A good scene that shows the bottled up rage and emotion he'd been biting down for years is the new library scene from Rebirth, where he unleashes sarcasm, disbelief, rage—raising his voice for the first and only time—and we see him cry. Sephiroth had internalized this rage due to years of conditioning to obey and comply, and let's be honest Hojo probably taught him not to act out on rage and maintain control because angry Sephiroth would be dangerous for him and Shinra. Then he learns the truth about Jenova, the project, and Gast's involvement, who he deeply respected, contributing to his suffering, it became the breaking point. Which brings me back to the range of emotions he displayed during that library scene. Sephiroth is a character who both during Crisis Core and the events after was mostly stoic and reserved, so it's highly telling how he was feeling when the most emotions we've ever seen him display was during his final breakdown when he finally "snapped"

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #asks #correction: first and only time we see him cry not counting tfs #discussion

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greml1nb0i · 3 months ago

Text

Hazbin Hotel Rewrite [WIP- this is copy and pasted from my docs; this is old but i wanted to share it anyway]

Rewrite the Characters:

Original +opinions (ooo~ Spicy) :

Charlie - Princess of Hell, Daughter of Lucifer. Sheltered and Cheery.

I hate that she’s just Disney Princess coded. They could have used the whole sheltered route well but TBF we don't see that either. We see a weird rendition of that where everyone forgives her for her terrible actions but yet other characters like Husk and Angel Dust are somehow held to a higher sense of accountability for their actions?!

I also don’t believe whoever raised Charlie could keep her away from the ever growing and changing landscape of Hell. Like if you're going to be a Princess of anything its really important for the next heir to be well acquainted with their kingdom's landscape and history. At the very least talk to the locals and commonwealth.

Her design is...ok. It didn't change much from the pilot but tbh i liked her Pilot design, I feel like it makes sense for her to wear hints of red and white, but i wish they added more than just red, i feel like black or gold would have been better or even purple for Biblical accuracy of Pride.

Vaggie - Girlfriend to Charlie and protector of the Hotel, ex-Exorcist.

Why did they change the lore? Also why does it feel like the VA hated being there or was just given 0 directions. She sounds dull and plain except for when she’s sounding like she’s angry, which is 99.98% Of Vaggie’s emotions.

That, an amnesia apparently?! How does vaggie not remember the very weapon that cut out her FUCKING EYE that still makes no sense, like how tf her and Lucifer and even Husk have wings, if wings are going to be used for ANY character why make them seem important to Vaggie when Husk literally has wings, and Lucifer the supposed “fallen Angel” STILL HAS HIS?! Like why? How does this make sense?

Angel - FemBoy, Sex worker. Deals in Self destruction, self loathing and deep depression while also being flirty and promiscuous. Was in a Mafia family. 1940s timeline.

Trauma porn character and just a bunch of gay men stereotypes. As a survivor, his story doesn't hit the way its meant to. There's a good and bad way to show SA and Abuse and while they did it “eh” (im saying this loosely) at first, they were completely unrealistic and downright infantilizing at the end.

There's no way someone who just went through a beating, an having to almost get drugged and dragged out of bar, is going to forgive the same person who started the stupor in the first place- ESPECIALLY ON THE SAME NIGHT!!!!!

I FUCKING CANT WITH THESE WRITERS THINKING MENTAL HEALTH CAN BE SOLVED IN A 20 MIN EPSIODE, IS THIS A KIDS SHOW ABOUT FRIENDSHIP OR AN ADULT SHOW ABOUT CARTOON DEMONS IN HELL.

And don’t get me started on that terrible musical number, it’s just soft core rape in a cheery pop tune i fucking hate it!! It doesn't help that Raph, an SA fetishist STORYBOARDED THE DAMN SCENE

WHAT THE FUCK MEDRANO!?

Husk - Angry grump, bar keeper. Contracted to Alastor. Gambler. From the 1970 or 60.

The design is a character designer's worst nightmares come to life on the screen. Every furry from the early 2000s clutching their pearls in cringe. It screams “omg rawr xD uwu” era and i think we as a society are way past that, i figured a 30 something year old woman would be too.

[apparently it was her sisters OC that was put into the show, viv why?!]

Alastor - radio show host from the 30s. Cannibal. Half Creole. “Wendigo design”. Cocky and always smile but is "quite dangerous when provoked." [yea ok pal]

An OC from middle school that should have stayed in middle school. There is a reason so many OCs from artists' early childhood don't make it into their new and growing art style. Most of the time if you keep obsessing over the same OCs you stunt yourself on growing in your art. Tumblr Sexy Man is that exact thing. I like him in concept but, if he was drawn better and actually looked like a man from the 1900s and in his 40s,(or even a half creole man; that's supposedly a Wendigo) I'd have less to complain about. His concept is good and interesting, but its not the first or the last and Alastor def isn't the first. Also give that man a haircut please!

Nifty - Japanese-American. From the 50s Obsessive and a neat freak. Camera shy but psychotic.

I feel like this is just a racist stereotype waiting to be exposed. The “young psychotic Japanese girl” trope is so fucking old and repetitive that i cant vibe with a character like Nifty when i know her only purpose is to be used as comedy bait. It doesn't help that Viv didn't give Nifty almost any merch! Like WOW really showing favoritism over the merch sales and that is disgusting.

Sir Pentious - British inventor. Kinda an idiot but is a brilliant machinist.

We were robbed of a decent villain. I hate that he became part of the cast and became the first redeemed as if Angel wasn't there longer and started showing signs of Redemption sooner, like we got more Redemption scenes of Angel but like NONE of Pentious and we are supposed to believe this weird snake dude is redeemed just cuz he kissed a girl and got himself killed for nothing???? VIVZIE YOUR ASS WRITING IS ASS!!

Also he's a stolen Character...seems to be a trend for Viv..

Lucifer - King of Hell, Father of Charlie, Sin of Pride. Depressed and non-serious, deep self loathing. Complex of some sort. Short King.

He’s fine..i guess, i mean its freaking Jeremy Jordan VA-ing him…he kind fixes whatever is wrong with Lucifer character wise. [this is for very obvious reasons a joke, while re-reading this i realized some people might not know i'm being sarcastic,oopsies] He’s a terrible character for numerous reasons. He is kinda homophobic if you really think about that “i like girls too” line and then proceeds to call her “MAGGIE”; Lucifer feels like he is just there to satisfy Viv’s disney esque “daddy issues” type kink she has for “tragic characters and shitty dads” type characters.

Designs wise he trash. He looks like jeff the killer but blonde and drawn by your aunt who refused to go to art school

Cherri Bomb - Angels Friend. Arsonist. From the 60s(?). Punk rock.

Her design is literally traced and just the Addict design…the fans are just stupid. Also i dont like the fact that Viv EXPECTED viewers of her show, to have done homework on who the fuck Cherri is, cuz if you're a new watcher, and didn't read the fucking Vivziepop Bible, you wont know who tf she if or why you should even care about her.

Why is Angel hanging out with someone like this in the first place, You’d think because Angel is older and from a different time period he wouldn't vibe with Cherri?? But apparently Viv thinks a fem gay man from the 30s would be the best homie to a 20 yr old punk rock Aussie from the 60s, a whole 3 decades of time difference!! Tell us why and how they know each other!! How can these fundamentally very different people even vibe together!! Is it just cus "wow shared trauma of abusive lovers" cuz wow Viv.

(her entire design is also stolen soooooo~)

Mimzy - who?

This one also feels really fucking racist. Idk what it is with Viv but the jewish stereotypes of Mimzie are absolutely atrocious.

Fix:

Charlie - [TBD]

Vaggie - [TBD]

Angel - [TBD]

Husk - [TBD]

Alastor - [TBD]

Nifty - [TBD]

Sir Pentious - [TDB]

Lucifer -

Was an Angel with dreams, and took part in the Creation of All Things.

However Lucifer was too ambitious and went off course with the designs of Earth’s creatures, causing the other Angels to feel uncomfortable by him and his new creations.

While the Angels were tolerating him, he was allowed to visit the First Human, but in doing so felt that their lack of knowledge was unfair and so in hopes of helping the other Angels see things his way, he gave the Apple of Knowledge to Adam and Lilith.

This didn't go as planned though, Where Lilith became kinder and more empathetic, Adam however became more uptight, and acted as if he was better than Lilith.

Lucifer defended Lilith against Adam thus causing the Angels attention to be drawn. Seeing what Lucifer had done; Ultimately bringing evil (free will) into the world, They (strangely) cast Lucifer AND Lilith, as well as the creatures Lucifer had created to the dark void;

The Angels now would call it, Hell. Lucifer, home.

Lucifer would first land in Hell confused and depressed, Along with Lilith they both begin to freak out as they look into the dark, empty landscape in front of them. Feelings of bitterness begin to reside within Lucifer, that settled into a resilient sense of ignorant Pride.

Lucifer’s Creations -

The demons and most of the Hellborns. Lucifer is treated as the Divine Judge of Hell, His punishment is having to witness all the evil that had been created due to him and He in turn must turn what could never be, into another one of his creations. Though he is given it a process. He has given up on making anymore Hellborns due to them fixing that themselves. Demons that are specifically Dead Humans (The Sinners).

Sins -

All of the Sins were once creatures created by Lucifer that began to Form into The 7 Deadly Sins. However the rest of these creatures evolved into lower ranks and a hierarchy was formed. With the Sins and Lucifer being at the top.

The 7 are special creatures that Lucifer held a special fondness to in particular. More so than some of the other Creations. Each of these Sins were given a mission after the fall and were subsequently turned into the Sins by the Angels, who felt they deserved the same punishment, if not worse, as Lucifer. Forcing each of the Sins to work as their prince/princess of their specific ring unless they want their entire existence to cease. They rather that not happen.

The angels cursed all the sins, and Lucifer himself. that if they ever stop their torment they will cease to exist. Angels thought this was humane but didn't realize or rather didn't care that much at the time how barbaric it actually is.

Dubbed the Curse of the Angels or Angels Kiss

(play on Kiss of Death where whomever Death kissed is marked for death,

here the Sins were “kissed” by the Angels and a “kiss” was once used to symbolize a curse or bad omen onto another)

their "death" however is more than they evaporate into nothing

its their very minds and bodies slowly begin to deteriorate painfully to the point of being empty husks. No expression, No emotions, No sense of self. Nothing. Their consciousness and personality essentially gets erased entirely.

Premise IDEAS for Rewrite:

Sinners go through character arc delving into their issues that lead to each one's Redemption

Heaven gets upset over the rise of redemption in Sinner

Earthly Denizens of Heaven/ “winners” attack the Hotel

The Sinners and the Staff defend the Hotel

Heaven’s attackers are turned fallen.

{END}

so i started this almost a year ago, it was right when i really started to dislike Viv and Helluva Flop Boss. If you wanna give a suggestion on what you think could make this better go for it. It's a WIP- so any advice is welcome and appreciated!!

#this is an old draft #hazbin critical #anti hazbin hotel #vivziepop critical #anti vivziepop #im still working on it

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the-bloody-sadist · 7 months ago

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Oooooo, could you do Yosano, Dazai, Kenji, Kyoka, and Atsushi?

Ps im ngl i always spell "actually" wrong 😣 i type so fast my autocorrect just cant keep up

CRACKS KNUCKLES OBNOXIOUSLY

(p.s. TYPE SLOWER. no jk that's actually so cute patpat it's okay little guy)

disclaimer first: a few of these characters I know very little about past what the anime offered and what my attention span was during their screen time, so forgive me if some of this trauma tie-in happens to be an element that already exists in some fashion (but isn't focused on) that I just didn't catch. Most of the ability stuff is just so fucking confusing and weird that I got used to dismissing any deeper looks into the possible meanings to their characters. REGARDLESS! I'm going to act as if I'm the co-writer of BSD and I have a skeleton of what their abilities/characters are supposed to be like.

other side note, I would make it the world rule of BSD that abilities are born out of either trauma or desperation, not inherent at birth. Each character has a past that involves how their ability was born.

Yosano

Ability birth:

I'd change her past to be that she was Mori's "favorite" (yes, in the inappropriate way) from wherever he met her, and he took her along to the war for company along with the other ability users, hoping to traumatize her enough to create some sort of ability birth in her. I'd make Mori, as a villain, someone who does this to children as a job, basically, unethically creating the birth of abilities by giving them trauma. Every mafia member is either an existing ability haver that he's hired to help him or a child he raised and traumatized to become ability users.

While in the war, Yosano would be a sensitive child obviously who hates seeing the mass deaths, and this would be the trigger for her healing ability to be born, because whenever she sees someone dying, she goes mad trying to save them.

Trauma history:

So she has a fairly traumatic backstory already that I think - out of all the characters in BSD - was portrayed pretty well, comparative to the others. However, with her ability to heal, and the wartime past with Mori arc, I would keep her deeply affected by that past event to the point where she's not proud of being a healer, even though it was born because she wanted people to stop dying. Mori soured that when he abused her ability after it was born to the point that she never wanted to see people revive again just to keep fighting.

Character change:

I would change Yosano to be a morbid character obsessed with death (and give her a metal goth-inspired design) who is dedicated to the idea that death is important, inevitable, and should not be prevented. Death is the ultimate rest, and Yosano would see herself as a perversion of nature who would be hindering that process if she were to heal anyone. This worldview would be entirely based on her experience in the war and how she kept soldiers on the battlefield so long that they went mad and only wished for death to escape their hell.

Relationships:

I would give her a close bond with Dazai because of this, seeing as that would make for some interesting partnerships. I would have her be sensitive to suicidal people because it triggers those memories, and she'd be undecided about whether she'd encourage Dazai in his wish to end things or stop him because she's attached to him.

Arc:

Her emotional arc for change (from refusing to heal to embracing her healing abilities for certain exceptions) could involve some sort of innocent NPC character (say, a child) who has a terminal illness and does not want to die. This could change her mind and she would choose to heal them before the end so that they could live a full life, and then decide that she'd use her healing abilities from then on only when death was an uncontrollable circumstance and an unwanted end, and only to prevent it until the character got the death they preferred. IDK, SOMETHING LIKE THAT. JUST OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD.

Dazai

Ability birth:

With Mori established as the prime abuser/villain, Dazai would've been born a normal but sheltered boy, neglected by his parents (leading into the sensitivity of being "invisible" or "not human") who comes across Mori somehow and is lured to run away from home (because grooming, and the fact that he receives attention from Mori and thus believes it's "love", becoming convinced his parents don't love him). Then thrust into the mafia, Mori routinely abuses him to get him to form an ability. The focus on his abuse would be sexual and medical. Mori would be curious to see what would form out of someone with the fear of being invisible being told that they're inhuman and alone. He would isolate Dazai and leave him in dark rooms for hours if he showed emotion, and force him to murder and maim other people (or children) to make him as antisocial as possible. This would create the self-eating void of No Longer Human. It would be both a manifestation of Dazai's loss of self-worth as well as a shield against Mori's use of abilities on him to hurt him.

Character change:

NYEHEHEHEHEHEHE MY FAVORITE! Although I usually write Dazai in my fanfics with these elements, just realistic-ized instead of supernatural-based, here's what I'd do for him in the canon, disregarding all fanon portrayals of him as this sort of character, already: No Longer Human is, by nature, an ability that destroys and makes the abnormal "normal". Dazai would be the ultimate contradiction to the "normal", being a human devoid of emotional expression entirely, himself a void to give only other people normality. Basing him more heavily off of his ability's namesake book (and the protagonist, Yozo), Dazai would be in a constant state of severe depression to the point of antisocial behaviors and sociopathic inclinations. Any attempts to help him escape this would be impossible, as his ability is so inherently parasitical that Dazai is subhuman, only able to "cure" others (by robbing them of their abilities while he is in contact with them). I would focus on him as a moral grey, the unpredictable character in the show who'd be more likely to join the villains at a moments notice and forsake our protagonist.

Trauma history:

His trauma history, other than Mori - namely, Odasaku's death - would be a major part of his character. Because of Oda, who was his first and only companion that didn't care about how strange and inhuman he was, died at what he sees to be his own failures, Dazai would think of himself as incapable of human connection without the threat of annihilating either the humanity of the other person or the literal life of the other person. To try and be more simple (sorry I'm so wordy, I hope it's not confusing), I'd say he'd be paranoid of falling into the "trap" of human connection now (thus leading to the antisocial behavior) and would attempt to push people away because he's convinced the past would repeat itself. "Anything worth having will be lost" and all that.

Current behaviors (in relation to the trauma):

Mr. touch-starved, touch-averse. Since his ability is based on contact, I'd make a Dazai who wears bandages not only to cover the egregious self-harm, but to cover up as much skin as possible, because he's convinced it will help him not touch people. I'd add a dash of reverse-mysophobia in there (mysophobia is the extreme phobia of germs) to add to how he feels as though he contaminates anyone he touches because of NLH. Since I'd keep Oda's last wish in his trauma history, Dazai would be in the ADA, but the complete detachment of his coworkers from emotionally caring for him would make Dazai a machine driven by the necessity to carry out Oda's last wish - to use his ability for good. Since he doesn't want to think about his time with Mori or be alone (even though he believes he deserves to be alone), he is staying with the agency out of duty and escapism from himself. His single use is to be a weapon to stop villains from abusing their powers. God, I'm so sorry, I have WAY too many thoughts about how I'd use this for Dazai, I hope it isn't coming out like the jumbled mess I think it is. Anyway, I'd also make him asexual, monotone-voiced, and brooding. He'd be a walking representation of how sexual trauma in particular can affect someone, making them feel worthless.

Relationships:

As mentioned with my version of Yosano, I think I'd pair them as acquaintances who work well together. Dazai likes anyone who thinks he should die, and his suicide attempts would remain a part of his character as well, just treated with actual weight. He interprets Yosano's love of death as a wish for him to kill himself, so when he has the time, he tries his best, but is notoriously bad at going all the way through. I'd give him one thing hindering him: the insatiable wish to not be lonely before he dies. The wish to find one friend to relive his Oda trauma, except this time with him dying happy instead of the other person, thus leaving them to live their life in peace without his burden.

Arc:

The chance to have his wish fulfilled would come in the form of Atsushi. Atsushi being oblivious, socially unaware, and unbothered by how strange Dazai is - as well as genuinely caring about his wellbeing - would trigger those old feelings about Oda, forcing Dazai to unconsciously seek out a repetition of his trauma. This time, however, he'd succeed. Atsushi would become close to him, and Dazai would protect him, and once it got to the part where he's ready to kill himself to relieve Atsushi of the burden of his existence, Atsushi would stop him and make it known how little of a burden he is, and how much good Atsushi sees in him.

Kenji

Character change:

OKAY THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY HARD. Kenji is such a bright character, and for the sake of contrast if I were to rewrite BSD, I would keep him that way, because a story filled with characters who are all as bleak and depressed as each other makes for a boring portrayal of trauma. Because, if everyone has trauma, NOBODY has trauma. Syndrome reference. They all cancel each other out and become far less important. HOWEVER. In a void, if I were to keep Kenji in line with my ability = trauma, I would give him the archetype of "the smiling goofball with the most crushing backstory who somehow made it through and came out the other side without mental illnesses and a love for humanity" if that....isn't too wordy. Does that make sense? Like Vash the Stampede in Trigun Stampede, basically. You'd have no idea this guy suffered until he told you his backstory while grinning ear to ear in the special side episode that you thought was going to be filler. He'd have the "yeah it was rough but I don't mind! I'm just sad for the other people who got hurt!" type beat and there would be 300 fanfics made about him breaking down because the fandom never got to see him cry in canon.

Ability birth/trauma history:

Kenji's superhuman strength would be born out of the landslides incident in his village. I wouldn't make it too deep, really, just your usual natural disaster trauma. I don't remember anything about Kenji's family if they were mentioned in BSD, but let's just say he lived with his family in the village very happily until the landslide incident. One of his family members got crushed under a falling tree (not dead, just trapped and injured), and Kenji's ability manifested out of the desperation to save them because nobody else could. Family member survived but was left disabled for the rest of their life. Kenji would be triggered in current day if he were to see anyone in life-threatening situations, but he would have the fight response and would be confident in his ability to save them.

Arc:

No arc for him, he's emotionally stable and would be there to assist other characters in their arcs!

Kyouka

I love Kyouka's current character type, so I wouldn't change anything about how she's written in the main storyline, BUT SHE DOES HAVE A WELL OF TRAUMA TO DRAW FROM! This is what I'd do with that:

Ability birth:

First of all, Kyouka's backstory is a bit weird to understand in relation to her ability itself, so I would simplify and change a few details, even though I do like some of the elements of its portrayal in the anime. Second of all, I love the Kouyou (I'm trying hard to spell everyone's names right) mother-daughter relationship going on with her, so I'd first of all have to build up my version of Kouyou.

Kouyou in canon wanted to leave the mafia with a man she admired, so let me harp on that by saying her motivation was that she wanted to have a family with him. Classic. Okay, so she fails in that in canon, the man gets killed, and she holds a grudge against the head of the mafia at that time (not Mori). Once the mafia is taken over by Mori, she was involved with the killing of the former mafia leader, so she becomes enthralled by Mori's sick passion and attached to the children he brings in. This is her own perverse version of a family, the only kind she'll get. She forgives herself for being Mori's enabler by convincing herself that she's the refuge for all the hurting children he brings into the mafia. She is their mother figure. To Chuuya, to Dazai, to Kouyou, etc.

Okay, NOW enter Kyouka, the new target of Mori's current attempt to make yet another ability user. Kouyou wants a little girl to take care of (she hates Elise, we all hate Elise), tired of all the boys. Mori preys on this and uses that motivation to convince Kouyou to kill Kyouka's mother and take the mother's place. This will bond her to the child.

Kouyou is all for this. Kouyou would become Kyouka's mother's assassin.

Once in the mafia, Kyouka is not like the others because she's basically a kidnapping victim instead of a grooming victim lured into the mafia. Stockholm syndrome manifests while Kouyou spoils Kyouka, but Mori is ofc determined to traumatize her. However, they underestimate how much smarter Kyouka is than some of the other children, and she is aware that Kouyou is only being kind to her to try and replace her mother. Her ability manifests as a way to preserve her mother's memory. Her ability would BE a ghost of her mother, basically, here to protect Kyouka from the fakers.

LONG WAY TO SAY THAT BUT HEY, KYOUKA HAD A GOOD BASELINE TO DRAW FROM. I would also tie in the phone by putting that into the trauma of her mother's death. During the assassination, Kyouka was on the phone with her mother, coming home from school. Since her mother was attacked while she was apart from her and she heard her mother's death on the phone, her trauma links directly to that, and Demon Snow would have a consistent phone-voice if it were to speak to represent those last moments of her life.

Current behavior (in relation to the trauma):

In joining the ADA and that whole thing, the one trigger I'd focus on would be that Kyouka refuses to talk on the phone with anybody. Everyone who works with her has to work around this, because she's internally convinced that talking on the phone will 1) cause someone to be compelled by her words (since Demon Snow follows phone commands) and 2) make her afraid that person will somehow meet misfortune if they speak over the phone. She'd retain that superstition.

Arc/relationships:

I would make an episode where Kyouka has to overcome her fear of talking on the phone. She'd still be close with Atsushi mainly but I would probably add a dash of Yosano in there as well, helping Kyouka process death as a whole and especially in relation to her mother. I would present a main conflict where Kyouka could put others in danger if she doesn't use a phone (say, a 911 call), and no other character is there to do it for her. She sees how her superstition doesn't come to pass because the 911 call brings only help and solves the situation, and then could grow when she realizes that she's allowed to be angry for her mother's death, and allowed to keep Demon Snow in honor of her memory, helping instead of harming others. She is also allowed to protect herself from harm. Basically Demon Snow would represent the grieving process in some way.

Atsushi

I really hate this guy in canon, I do apologize for how much I'm going to change him.

Character change:

To start, I'm a huge hater of canon Atsushi (as mentioned), but quite a fan of BEAST Atsushi, in comparison. I would rebuild his character based more on BEAST than BSD. Okay, so it's widely tossed around that Atsushi is a good representation of PTSD (he's not, from an officially diagnosed CPTSD haver, I'm sorry, though if anyone who has PTSD likes his representation, I'm happy for you <3 live in peace). I would shift him to be a representation for survivor's guilt. Why this choice? First of all, my changes would already make almost every character a representation of PTSD because all abilities would be a metaphor for PTSD. I'll get into the changes for his backstory to fit this narrative in a second. But I want to merge his BSD and BEAST personalities together. In BSD, he's always making everything his fault somehow and using self-blame like it's a personality quirk. I want to use this, and mesh it with the more serious personality he has in BEAST. He'd remain an ADA member, but he'd be less... comedically brainless. First of all, autism. Yay!!! I love socially awkward characters if they're not overdone, so I would give Atsushi the "not labelled but definitely autistic" character type. Social cues are hard, he struggles to make genuine connections or "correctly" convey his emotions, all that. This would make him a better match-up for Dazai since they would find some common ground in the emotions department, with Dazai being keen on understanding the way others act socially but not WISHING to participate, and Atsushi just not knowing how to participate "properly". He would feel bad about this as a main character conflict, wishing to assimilate into "normal" society better when he feels so alienated. This would also fit his um....unique? eccentric? Character design and haircut. JUST SAYING. The arc (which I'll talk about in a second) would be about accepting himself the way he is instead of forcing himself to assimilate to society, so don't think I'm making him autistic as some sort of derogatory thing. Not at all.

Trauma history:

So I mentioned I would give him the survivors guilt theme. For his orphanage backstory, I would build up the fact that he was "the weird kid" but he really loved the children he was around and desired to connect with them. The abusive caretakers I would tone down a bit to give some more realism to the abuse, because I find the backstory ridiculous and tacky in canon. I'd take inspiration from real life horror houses and camp counselor stories, especially the psychological manipulation of making kids tattletales on each other, essentially, as a way to protect themselves. If anyone does anything "wrong", the kids can earn themselves a day of rest from the abuse by being the caretaker's "pet" and telling them who transgressed. I'd keep the elements of Atsushi being put in solitary confinement situations (but not chained up), starvation, physical abuse and threats to permanently maim any children that ran away (crushing their legs/ankles etc.).

Because of this, Atsushi's personality would form around the desire to be the savior of all the other children. Tokyo Ghoul ahh sentiments like "it's better to be hurt than to hurt others" would be his motto. Self-sacrificing little guy. He would get himself in trouble just to redirect attention from other, more fragile kids, and thus become the main target of the abusers. However, as what usually happens in reality with hero-minded people in groups like this, the abusers would convince the kids that this was because Atsushi thought he was better than them, so the kids would alienate him since it gets them rewards from their abusers and relief from abuse. If Atsushi wants to take the fall for them, by all means, let him take the fall. Atsushi gets blamed for everything. (This is how it can make his current self-blame behavior make more sense)

Ability birth:

Atsushi's Beast Beneath the Moonlight would birth under the extreme stress of being everyone's punching bag. Atsushi, like any victim of abuse, would be bothered at first by the reaction of anger and hatred he has in his heart when kids blame him and when abusers go after him again and again. Even though a lot of this hatred is self-focused, there's a growing rage against the monsters hurting him, and a need to become a monster to hurt them back. Also, the need to fulfill their accusations that he is the monster. AKA "fine, I'll be the villain you want me to be" arc. Atsushi is abused until he hits a breaking point, finally, and can't take it anymore. He accepts that instead of being hurt constantly, he does want to hurt his abusers back, he does want to kill them, and the Beast is born, a trauma holder that is out of his control. On the day of its birth, it destroys the entire orphanage in a blind rage, and Atsushi blanks out during the attack. The main drive of his current story would be him trying to figure out what actually happened that day after waking up where he does in BSD's first scene.

Current behavior, relationships, & arc:

Since Atsushi would theoretically be the main character, still, his ability would stand as more unique since he has zero control of it. This would be because he refuses to process his trauma in the orphanage, only retaining the survivor's guilt about "a disaster happened and I was the only survivor, but I don't know what the disaster was caused by, only that I blame myself". I would have Fukuzawa, Kyouka, and Dazai be the main accomplices to solving this for him as well as emotionally assisting in his arc to accepting what he did and understanding the nature of his beast. It would be a nice way to explore the rage that survivors of childhood abuse retain for their abusers, and how dangerous it can be if you don't process that trauma in a healthy way. The whole goal would be to keep Atsushi from denying that his childhood abuse hurt him and that it was fucked up. The other characters would be motivated to do this because of the disaster that would come of Atsushi losing himself to his beast and going on a rampage.

This is probably why Atsushi in canon makes me so annoyed, by the way, because he had such POTENTIAL with the metaphors to really represent PTSD and trauma, but failed miserably and instead just repeated a single scene on a loop until I wanted to blow my brains out. "it would've been better if you'd just died in a ditch somewhere" is my winter soldier trigger phrase now.

....

OH MY GOD I'M DONNEEEEEE, THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THE CHANCE TO RAMBLE MY ASS OFF!!! Clearly I love the chance to do it, so if you want to give me any other characters (if I didn't make you regret asking), PLEASE FEEL FREE! I would love to see what rolls out of my head with the right prompts! I spend so much time focusing on Dazai that I've forgotten about how much unused potential lies in the other cast.

THANK YOU AGAIN, I HOPE ANYONE WHO READS THIS FINDS THEMSELVES ENTERTAINED! And if it happens to be of any quality, you have my full permission to use this shit for your own fanfics if you'd like, just credit me if you please! I'd never spend enough time on characters aside from Dazai to actually use these ideas, so I'd be thrilled to see what others come up with. Please oh please write me an AU so I don't have to, I want to indulge....

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slashingdisneypasta · 2 years ago

Text

MultiVillains x Reader || Drabbles

Plots / Includes: These are each inspired by texts from the Unsent Project- so this is gonna be heartbreaking 😅 . Enjoy XD

(Also- the ratings at the end of the blurbs is how upsetting it is at least in my opinion, for your convenience XD 😅 0 is happy, 5 is sad, 10 is dark. Remember these are my opinions so take them with a grain of salt and proceed cautiously if you think anything will trigger you ^^ I'm just trying this out)

Bo Sinclair x ChildhoodSweetheart!Reader- whatever happen to us, remember that i always loved you and always will. Your parting words to your childhood sweetheart before you leave town. || 6-7 1/2 out of 10

Captain Hook x Reader- i don’t hate you. i’m sorry it ended how it did. An affirming moment between two people who used to love each other. || 4-5 out of 10

Cruella De Vil x Model!Reader- you did a damn good job of hurting me, but not good enough i’m healing. You call her up and say some things that satisfying your fricken soul. || 8-9 out of 10 (its angry)

Hades x Reader- even when I get over you and all that you’ve done for me, i’ll never forget the happiness. This one’s about an ex-lover of the lord of the dead who, if you asked, would never say a bad thing about him. And how he responds. || 2-3 out of 10

Inkubus x Reader- if you had said something earlier it would have been you. He finally admits he really wants you which is all you’ve wanted for the last 5 years but its awful because its too late and you cant do this with him now. || 6-7 out of 10

Laughing Jack x Reader- i hope you can forgive me one day. i’m sorry i didn’t say goodbye when u left. i love you. These are the words L.J wishes he could send you, but that part of him that can admit those things out loud died a long time ago. || 5-6 out of 10

Wheezy Weasel x Reader- the universe keeps putting us in the same place at the same time and you still refuse to come to me. Wheezy is sick and tired of letting you leave every time you two find your ways back to eachother so he lays it all out on the table for you. || 5!!! out of 10

Warnings: Heartbreak and angst throughout. But also mentions of Mr and Mrs Sinclair (Neglect and abusive parenting), break ups, past break ups, caring about eachother but not getting back together, kind of psychotic reader in Cruella’s, being in mutual love but not being together, death of reader, gratuitous swearing, inner struggles, L.J struggling with his emotional trauma, break ups, immoveable objects, etc. Also unedited.

Bo Sinclair: whatever happen to us, remember that i always loved you and always will

Bo always had a deficiency in love- his parents never truly loved him and in a house like that you learn to protect yourself. You have to learn to protect yourself so your heart doesn’t break daily. You could tell this was in him, or it wasn’t in him, from the moment you met Bo when the two of you were 5. He just had that… air. And little five-year-old you, in overalls and mud, felt for him.

Since then, you did everything you could to make him feel loved, because honestly? From the second moment you met him he was. Sure, at first it was just puppy love; A little kid looking at another little kid and thinking he would look perfect next to a picket fence walking a cute dog, or in a church holding your hand. Despite that it was more then enough fodder to build a lifelong relationship from, developing rapidly over the years from being sandbox buddies to sneaking out of your window at night after a fight with your parents just to spend the night in his truck with him. To making out behind school for the first time and ending up with a kissing rash you hid by staying home for days. To him inviting you to prom. At 16 the two of you were the steadiest couple in town. And you were right when you were a kid- he would look good in a church holding your hand, now.

… Your heart still pangs like hell in your chest when you even just remember that that is never going to happen, though.

Because you cant stay and he cant leave.

He’s never going to walk that dog (Skippy you’d named it in your head over the years, after the peanut butter Bo liked) by that damn picket fence you would’ve taken such good care of. You would never get married, though it felt something like torture inside knowing that you two would not share a future at all.

Bo always had a deficiency in love- it came from his parents and you tried like hell to put him back together but looking at him now, your bags in the backseat and the drivers side of your car open, waiting for you… and him standing there all sweet and charismatic, like he’s not bothered by this when he raged last night in the darkness of your back yard… you can see it never really got fixed. Nothing you can do could ever repair what they broke. And it destroys you inside.

Sniffing, you carefully lay your hands on his shoulders just to feel him a last time, maybe commit him to memory. The darkness over his eyes from the baseball cap on his head hides the dark look inside him that you saw last night. You give him a serious look, nudging your forehead against the rim of his hat. You take a deep breath in, for saying goodbye with-

-He immediately shakes his head, leaning back from you. “Don’t say it.”

“Bo- “

“Naww, don’t say it.” Theres a good-humoured smirk on his face but the tone in his voice is not joking. He’s not joking. “Y’can still stay. C’mon, I’ll help you unpack- “

“Bo,” You start again, insisting and closing the space between you two again. Persistently, you catch his eye before speaking again, waiting until he’s still and he’s paying attention.

… Then you take another deep breath and lean your forehead softly against the rim of his hat, this time. “Whatever happens to us- I need you to know-… I always loved you, and always will.”

Then you squeeze your eyes shut, squeeze your fingers into his shoulders one last time, and then break away into the car.

Captain Hook: i don’t hate you. i’m sorry it ended how it did

Of all the things to see outside your window at night, this had to be one of the most surprising. Sure, its true that he used to visit you at your window every night, you would leave the window open for him, but its been years since then and now the window is closed and latched. And yet, he’s here.

Even so, you move forward a moment after you see him and unlock the window for him once again- then step back and wrap your dressing gown tightly around your body; eyes wide as they flicker up and down his body. “Is everything okay??- “

“Everything is fine, my dear.” A terrible pang rings throughout your chest at him calling you that, a twisted echo of the reaction you used to have to his pet name for you. A lot can change in 3 years, you suppose… but that doesn’t mean you like it. “I just… I wished to… ask you something.”

This experience is almost surreal, for you. Dreamy. Having Hook turn up at your window again after all this time has been a dream - no, nightmare, - for you since you said goodbye; You imagined all the things he might say, the way he might beg for you back and the way he might come back just to have a last word with you… you were never sure which was worse. Whether you hate them or still care about them, its always awful when your ex comes back. Its always painful.

You’re not quite sure which one this is. Looking warily at him, you arms crossed over your chest, you feel the cold air coming in from around him on your face and shake your head “… Why don’t you come inside?”

“… thank you, but no.”

“Why not??”

“I don’t think I’ll be staying for long, to be frank. Can I ask my question now, dear?”

“I… “Taking a deep breath in to strengthen yourself, you nod. “I suppose. Go ahead… “

Something in his face shifts then, something vulnerable appears. “Well I.. I- I’ve been thinking lately, about our time together. I had a dream, and… “ His eyes flicker away from yours for a moment, and you know he had dream like yours. You sympathise, but sympathy is a dangerous game and you can’t fall back into old feelings for him- it would be too much, having to start again from the beginning getting over him. So you fold your arms tighter and lift your chin, holding it in when he looks at you again. “And I couldn’t get it out of my head. Smee, that… blundering fool… suggested I come here and ask you myself, so- I- I just have to know, my dear… do you harbour any ill-feelings towards me, still? I know that we ended things and it was unpleasant but I would really regret it if… if you hated me, for anything I said at that time.”

At this you cant help it, your expression immediately softens and your arms loosen against your chest almost entirely. You feel bad for him. And you would never want him to ever think that.

You??? Hating him?????

You couldn’t.

“No… no no no- I- I could never- “ God, you’re a blubbering idiot. Taking a deep breath to calm down and possibly manage a complete sentence, you start again. “… I don’t hate you. I’m sorry for how it ended.”

The two of you just look at eachother, then. Searching eachothers faces for any of the malice that you remember from those last weeks- it wasn’t that you suddenly disliked each other though, it just… some things… sometimes two people aren’t meant to be for that long.

And thankfully, its not there.

A warm smile crinkles the corners of Hooks eyes, and he nods. “As am I.”

Cruella De Vil: you did a damn good job of hurting me, but not good enough i’m healing

“Arghhhh!” The frustrated scream is muffled by the pillow you have pressed against your face but its still loud, and you don’t feel better afterwards when you pull your warm face away from the pillow and force a deep breath. When that doesn’t work either you stand up, throw the pillow on the floor and stomp down on it.

Its childish, you know. But you are pissed.

Not only did she just stop answering your calls, stop looking at you at work, stop asking for your presence - like it was some switch!, - , but now she’s fired you!??

This. Bitch.

“How the fuck could she do this??” You hiss, storming to one side of your little studio apartment- then whipping around storming to the other side. “I am the face of that stupid fucking company!” With that, you snatch up a cushion from the couch this time on your way across the room. Its one she gave you, made of precious fur so she wouldn’t have to totally slum it in your apartment the rare times that she visited. You stop and stare at it for a few moments, fury bubbling and rising inside you at the sight of the stiff, uncomfortable black-and-white thing before you finally whip around again and go to your desk. There you grab a pair of scissors and stab them into the ugly thing.

That feels good. So you rip the scissors out again and cut a sizeable chunk out of one of the corners.

It cuts surprisingly easily and you sit down for a few minutes at your desk just cutting away at it until all you have now is a pile of feathers and fur. When its finished, you’re a little calmer and pick up your polaroid camera from the very edge of your desk. Snap!

“Hmmm,” You smirk, shaking out the polaroid until it shows the picture. “Cruella will appreciate this nailed to her office door I think… god I sound like a psycho… “For a moment, you consider chopping up the photograph, instead- but instead just shrug. “Honestly oh-fucking-well.“

Cruella made you this way. She can reap the rewards.

“… fucking hell… “As you sit by the ex-cushion and its innards, you feel an almost sadness looking at it. You remember how she bought in the first place, yes to jazz up your home a little bit so she doesn’t feel uncomfortable in the low-rent district,… but also so she could be there when you were sick that one time. That was shockingly warm, of her. You thought after that, that she actually cared about you.

Then your face goes sour again, anger licking at your heart like flames. Because despite that, she did this to you. Somewhere between then, and now, she decided that you weren’t in fact worth it. She changed her mind. Like you were an option on the fucking menu.

Slamming the scissors down on the desk and dropping the polaroid, you stalk across the room back to your bed. You throw pillows off of it until you find your cell phone, that she gave you, and punch in the numbers that would get you her.

When the ringing stops and the line clears, and you can hear her breath in to say something, you immediately speak first. As far as you are concerned- she has nothing to say. “How dare you- I am a supermodel you heinous, ice cold, disgusting old freak. Your company is going to crumble without me to wear your rags and you’ll- ughh! You’ll- “ What? She’ll regret this? She’ll miss you? She’ll want you back? You know in your heart that none of that will happen. And it kills you. “Agh! I’ll- I’ll find something better. I’ll be much happier working for- being with, someone else. I promise.” Are you promising her, or yourself??? Either way this screeching has calmed you down some, and now you’re just standing there with one hand on your hip, breathing carefully. “… you know what? You hurt me real bad, Cruella, you did a fantastic job. But not good enough- I’m gonna heal.” As soon as you say it you know its true, and a semblance of sanity returns to your mind.

Then you hang up and, for good measure, you throw the cell phone at a wall with all your might- smashing it into pieces.

Hades: even when I get over you and all that you’ve done for me, i’ll never forget the happiness

“Even when I get over this and you and everything we had- I’ll never forget how happy you made me.” Those would be your last words to him. Those were perfect, you thought. He needed to know that despite this not working between you both anymore, that he would still never be a villain in your life. A lot of people make those assumptions about him and just because you were finished, you would never revert to being on of them. He made you happy for a long time when you thought you wouldn’t be that again and that will never be erased by anything. Not to you.

So, giving one final teary smile, you then turned around and walked away.

Its many many years later when you see eachother again. You’re much, much older now and your heart stopped beating. He meets you at the gate, not something he does with just everyone, and he smirks at you just like he used to.

Its nice, that he still looks at you the same now as he did back then. It makes you feel warm inside, despite being dead.

“So… welcome back.” Are the first words he says to you in so long, and you give a warm smile in response. Sure, you should be scared… you’re dead… but looking at him, you just can’t be. “How bout I show you to your bunk for the next eon?”

Nodding yes, you follow him nervously past the gates and past the river styx. You’re surprised, walking by that- aren’t you going in there?? You thought you would… But Hades keeps moving, not looking back as he leads you deeper into the Underworld. Past the throne room you’re familiar with, past a big iron door with Asphodel Meadows indented into it… to a similar door with Elysium on it. Your eyes widen, stepping back- but Hades’ smoke creates a barrier behind you so you cant get away. It gathers against your back and softly nudge you forward again.

There’s no way- you don’t deserve-

“Uh uh uh… not so fast, babe, you belong here. Look- “ Hades speaks and your wide-eyed attention is immediately on him again, waiting for a good explanation for this. You never in your wildest dreams thought you would ever end up- “I know when our thing ended I was aaa… lets say a little cold. But- I need you to know that wasn’t because I didn’t like you anymore. Babe, damn, you’re still my favourite mortal. And… “The odd, unfamiliar, empathetic look on his face transforms once more to a smirk now. “I heard all the nice things you’ve been sayin’ about me all these years. Remember, I got ears everywhere.”

Oh- well- you’re about to say something, but a smoke tendril wraps itself around your mouth. Hades holds up a finger. “Not just yet. I just wanted to show my gratitude and… “He pushes the door open, which creaks from absolute lack of use over the years, and what’s you see inside is beyond your wildest daydreams. There is absolutely no way he is sending you in there- “Welcome to your final resting place, sweetheart. You like?”

The smoke all over you slips away, then, you’re free. And without thinking, you step towards the doorway.

Its beautiful… and you can’t wait to be there. Is he really sending you there??? Glancing at him, he nods and you look back at Elysium. You take another step, putting your hand gently on the inside doorhandle.

Elysium. You can’t believe it.

“Y/N- “

“Hades,” You finally speak, turning to him before you just go and step inside without saying a word to him. If you did that, you would regret it forever. When he looks back at you, you give a gentle shrug. “I promised, Hades.”

This grin on his face now, is genuine. He loves you- he is always going to love you. This is the reason you couldn’t stay together, because one day you would die and it would be too hard on him. You’re so sorry that the separation changed nothing… but a small, selfish part of you is glad he still loves you too.

… But instead of saying that, making this harder on him, you just give another warm smile, a thank you, and then turn around and walk away.

Inkubus: if you had said something earlier it would have been you

You are literally looking at him in horror. You didn’t think before this that anyone in real life would truly have the power to horrify you to this degree, but he has done it. Honestly if anyone could, you’re not surprised it was him, but you do wish he would shut up now.

By the time he’s finished your eyes are downcast, you can’t even look at him. He comes back for the first time after a year and… and this!? 5 minutes ago the last thing he said to you was I’m going away for a little while, watch my plants and now its I shouldn’t have left like that. I’m in love with you???

You have no clue how to respond. You want to tell him to leave now, you want to say get fucked, how dare you, you want to slam the door closed so hard the walls shake and crumble, you actually pray for a hole to open up under you and take you away to somewhere where he isn’t looking at you anymore.

“Uhh… “Eyes flickering up towards the porch light to keep your eyes dry, you delicately cross your arms around your stomach and then tighten them there. Then you take a deep breath, and look square at him- you hope he scan see the rage and the hurt in them. You wish it would make him step away, back down, apologise. “So a year ago… when I said to you… if you think you’ll ever want me back then tell me now… were you listening??”

He senses the absolute storm in you but he doesn’t step away, or back down, or apologise. He takes a step forward, reaching out for you. “I always listen to you- “

“Oh-” Fiercely rolling your eyes, you twist away from him and pull your hand up and out of his reach. He always listens to you?? “Because I was asking you that because I needed to know, if I should let go of any dumb hope that the man I wanted would actually ever actually love me back, or if I should wait- because I would’ve waited. I really would’ve… “Looking at him now, you remember that part for definite. You loved him, you wanted him, you would’ve waited… however long, he needed. “Do you remember what you said, Inkubus?? It was important, so you should remember it. You better.”

You watch him and see the very moment the memory flickers through his head; The wince that follows… you almost feel the regret that must burn in his chest. “I said- “The sharp look in your eyes makes him stop. You do not want to hear them again. “I see… “

“Yeah.”

“I don’t suppose I could make it up to you, for that grievous mistake on my part?”

Here was the man you wanted so badly for the past 5 years, finally finally begging for you- actually begging. You know if you only said yes, just closed the door behind you and nodded he would grin at you and your insides would turn to goop, he’d kiss you just the way you imagined - and damn it did you imagine. Which is just wasted time, now, - and he would take it from there. It would be so easy to do. You might even be happy with the decision…

But then you take a deep breath and look away from him. Remember how he left and you had pick up your pieces and do this fucking thing on your own.

So, no. No.

You can’t.

Now your voice has lost all the unrestrained venom from before, all the anger, and you’re just tired and sad. “If you had said something earlier… “ God, it would have been so different… “But no. No. Its too late.”

“Y/N- “

You close the door.

Laughing Jack: i hope you can forgive me one day. i’m sorry i didn’t say goodbye when u left. i love you

L.J’s POV

“Just send it.” I growl, an almost feral edge to my tone that I cant say I’m fully proud of. “Put. It. In. It’s just a bloody letter Jack. Now!- “

The letter nearly slips into the slot this time, but I see Y/N’s face in my head for a moment, just a moment, and they’re pretty as ever but they’re reading the letter. They’re reading the letter, finishing it, and then setting it aside. They do not respond to me.

The letter swerves and goes over the top, slipping down the backside of the letterbox, instead.

“Aghh!” I’m heaving. This is ridiculous! What!? Why can’t I- “My god.” Dropping to my knees on the ground, I reach underneath the letterbox with one of my long arms and collect the now dusty, dirty letter back again. I sigh. “Of course.”

Slowly getting back up to my feet, I look at the letterbox with a frown on my lips. I have to do this. I have to tell them…

Okay. Taking a deep breath and puffing out my chest, I inwardly pump myself up for this. I think I need to, considering how hard this seems to be. Let’s go Jack, we can do this, we’re very very close. Just one more try. Come on. Here we go-

I accidentally picture Y/N again at exactly the wrong moment. This time it’s a memory; This actually happened. And its horrible.

Before my eyes, seemingly, I see them animatedly explaining why they have to leave to me - because they got an amazing job opportunity, a fact I’m surprised I remember considering I was blocking them out at this point, - , that they’re so very sorry - something I definitely didn’t care to hear at the time, - , and then… inviting me to see them off the next day. Say goodbye properly.

… But the next day came and I didn’t go to see them off… The letter once again mises its target. I saved myself from that unnecessary pain of saying goodbye. Didn’t I?

I’ve been so sure about that, for a while… But not so much, lately. No. Suddenly I regret it. I’m thinking maybe I should have been there, maybe it would have been better. Perhaps I wouldn’t still have this nagging itch in my chest every time I think about them. I wish I would have… been there…

And now I just want to tell them that. They need to know that I’m sorry I didn’t go, or say goodbye to them when they left.

That I hope they forgive me.

I love them.

But I am apparently physically incapable of sending this bloody letter!

Wheezy Weasel: the universe keeps putting us in the same place at the same time and you still refuse to come to me

Creaaaaaaaaaaaak- “Oh, shoot.”

“Mmm… toldya that floorboards a little loose.” Wheezy mumbles sleepily, cracking his eyes open to see you caught with your boot just pulled on but not laced up yet. He immediately sees what’s happening, and those scary steel eyes narrow at you. Oh, no. You were really hoping to avoid that. “… Goin’ somewhere?”

“I… “ Searching for the words gets you nowhere; There are no words to sufficiently explain yourself in a flattering light. You’re running away- again.

“Its kinda early.”

“Wheezy, I- “ You try again, but he’s already climbing out of bed and fixing his sleeves. Watching him, you wait for the way he’ll shut down and let you go like he always does. It hurts, but you’re used to it. And you’re sure it hurts him when he sees that you’re leaving, so… you’re even. You owe it to him to stay and see the moment he gives up on whatever’s between the two of you every time.

“No.” Is all he says, and you’re a little surprised. No?? What does no mean??? You open your mouth to ask, concerned, but he says it again; Head still down and eyes not on you as he finished rolling up his sleeves. “No.”

“No??”

He lifts his eyes to see you again and you’re struck with the utter intensity of them. “No, yer not leavin’ again.”

Jaw dropping, you look around- searching inside yourself for the words again- this time to say yes, you are. You have to, this isn’t good for either one of you. Sorry. “… Actually- “

“Y/N,” Suddenly he’s in front of you and his hand’s on your face and his eyes are soft on you now and god- you could give up right there. He is such kryptonite to you, its unbelievable. “Just stay this time, huh? Just fer breakfast- its Greasy’s day, so you don’t haveta worry about anything. And it might actually taste good, considering the boss aint cookin’.”

“I can’t stay for breakfast… “

“Why’s that?”

“You know why!”

Eyes going cold again like a switch, Wheezy gives a frustrated sigh in front of you and closes his eyes; Letting his hand fall down to your shoulder, instead. “… why can’t you believe this could work?”

What kind of question is that? Exasperated and desperate to just leave, you step away from him, edging towards the door. “Because it never does!- “

He looks at you again and he looks so damn frustrated, throwing his arm out for emphasis. It’s surprising, he’s usually so cool. “ - Because you always run away! What are you scared of, Y/N??” He comes in close to you again and you feel like a bowl of soup- “The universe keeps putting us together over and over again- and you still refuse to come to me.” His voice is quiet, and soft as it can be after years of chain smoking, and it’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you… in a crappy low-rent apartment downtown smelling faintly of pee, no less. “… Why’s that??”

You have no idea what to say to second part, so you elect to ignore it. Its easier. “… I’m not scared- “

“Really?? You coulda fooled me.”

“Wheezy, I-… This is dangerous, for me.” You can feel the pressure building up, hear the blood pumping in your ears. You have not wanted to admit this part, you have wanted to keep it buried so as to not hurt him but it’s about to come out and you can’t stop it. “This stuff that you do for Smartass, and the judge… I can’t be mixed up in all that! I could get hurt. And… I can’t-… I can’t… “

“… y’cant put yourself in that situation for a guy.” He realises slowly, on his own. And it’s a small relief… though really, really small.

You want to tell him it’s not true, that he is so worth it because truly, honestly, he is and you love him… but… “Yeah,” You let out, more as breath then an actual admission. But he hears it.

And he understands, too. He nods and actually looks like he understands you. Which just makes it worse for you! He’s fucking perfect, what the hell!? “I get that… “

“Thank you… “

… When it’s clear that Wheezy isn’t going to stop you this time, you sit down on the edge of the bed and silently do up your boot laces. Wheezy carefully sits down next to you, reaching to get your jacket for you and hold it silently while you finish your boots. When you do finish, you turn to him and he hands it to you, forcing a small smile.

For a moment more you just sit there, wondering how you could possibly say goodbye to him. Really, say goodbye. Because you don’t think… you’re ever going to do this again. Not after this. Its over.

You can feel your heart breaking as you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Wheezy.”

“Love ya, baby.”

“Oh I love you too.” You sigh out, pausing only a moment more to let it sink in, then take a deep breath and leave the room.

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cyanide-rifle · 1 month ago

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Hello! More inquiries!

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

what made you start your blog?

tell a story about your childhood

would you say you’re an emotional person?

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

fave colour and why?

do you collect anything?

what do you do when you’re sad?

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

do you trust easily?

how many tabs do you have open right now?

fave song at the moment?

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why?

56. State 8 facts about your body

57. Things you want to say to an ex

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

64. What is your definition of cheating?

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you?

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone?

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why?

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

83. Who was your first kiss with?

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

Strawberry: What’s the best dipping “sauce”?

Mango: Do you have any pets? If so what are they/their names?

Lychee: What’s your favorite drink?

Grape: Do you have any siblings?

Gooseberry: Favorite animal?

Fig: Do you think you’re smart?

Cherry: Deecribe someone you think is cute.

Coconut: Do you like the beach?

Banana: What’s the worst artificial flavor?

Blackberry: What kind of phone (if any) do you have?

what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are?

past, parents and the fear of everything

what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

Frutiger "_____" , "______" aero

what made you start your blog?

Started this bad boy *slaps my blog* in december of 2016 (hmmm who told me that again? 👁 oh yeah you) and back then i probably did it to find aesthetic pics

tell a story about your childhood

Ran against a cigarette automat and my mom laughed at me (rudeee)

would you say you’re an emotional person?

Maybe it seems like i am emotionally cold but if you think that you just dont know me enough (my family thinks im a cold brick and that im a robot)

what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but maybe been to scared to do?

Not be scared of everything anymore (BUT WHAT IF THIS HAPPENS??? AND THEN THAT??? WHAT IF????)

what do you think of when you hear the word “home”?

A certain smell? Maybe my mom? Maybe my childhood home? Simpler times? Last moments before death i'll see my mother? Or someone else entirely? I had certain delusions that felt like home like that house in the woods isolated from everyone else just me and him, but i cant trust my feelings at all so who knows what home is, maybe home is everywhere and nowhere

fave colour and why?

Black, dark red, dark blue, purple they look cool

do you collect anything?

Trauma just kidding, no i dont im stingy with money (i do collect pokemons for my dex)

what do you do when you’re sad?

Listen to music and think about how my blorbos will comfort me

what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

Fantasize about various things good things, sexual things, violent things, death

do you trust easily?

Yes and its a flaw of mine

how many tabs do you have open right now?

Well on chrome i have 97 and on ecosia 181

fave song at the moment?

Hmmm well it changes all the time but i've been listening to HENNESSYXMTNDEW a lot lately

12. Do you forgive betrayal?

Not really, i'll always have it in the back of my mind even if i forgave you (because im too afraid to lose someone so i'll rather have them in my life then set boundaries, cowardly me)

27. Has someone ever written a song or poem for you?

28. Have you ever been cheated on?

Depends what one would call cheating she didnt fuck anyone but she was flirty to other people and kissed them, (then i did the same to hurt her, what a dumb idea, ashamed of myself be better)

30. Have you ever considered plastic surgery? If so, what would you change about your body?

I dont want to get plastic surgery i want to look like my parents when im old

39. Have you ever wanted someone you couldn’t have?

Feels like thats all i do, yearning, yearning for what? Everything

48. If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say?

"Omggg i'm so happy for youuu!!" I'd be so hurt but try to play it off but i'll cut the contact slowly or immediately

52. Is there anyone you’ve given up on? Why?

I still hope we patch things up even though she did me so wrong (have some self respect)

56. State 8 facts about your body

166cm , i'd say my arms are long i think, small hands, small feet, my bones in my legs crack when i walk, body hair is doing well, veins are looking nice

57. Things you want to say to an ex

Habe ich dir nichts bedeutet? Ich dachte wir hatten ein gutes verhältnis (hast du mich jemals gemocht?)

58. What are five ways to win your heart?

I dont think im worth being won over but i'll try listing some stuff anyways, food, tell me when theres something wrong (i have the tendency to not talk about my problems so if you talk about yours maybe i'll talk about mine, and of course i want my partner to feel good so i want to listen and be a good boyfriend), cuddling maybe? I've never really cuddled but i feel like the person who cuddles me i'll fall for immediately because im just that touch starved, someone who lives maybe the same kind of music, same kind of humour

64. What is your definition of cheating?

Flirtatious texts with others any kind of kissing (likeeee why are you being flirty with another person when you have me, if the plan was to make me jealous i'll just leave)

73. What’s something sweet you’d like someone to do for you?

I dont know if i can provide anything back so i'll say nothing

74. What’s the most superficial characteristic you look for?

Beautiful eyes

76. What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone?

Wrote someone letters that were 5 pages long or more and put rocks and feathers in the letter because they looked cool (never got an answer)

79. When was the last time you felt jealous? Why?

I feel jealous all the time, something small sets me off like the mention of another name (mostly only with romantical partners, with friends i worry if their friends are better than me and if i'll be replaced soon)

82. Who is the last person you hugged?

My cousin today

83. Who was your first kiss with?

My first love, it was at night i thinkkk i was 16 she brought it the idea up (i was having feelings for her forever and she knew) and i ran around a few rounds until i crashed into her and kissed her (i was so nervous), she acted like it wasnt a big deal and i was so heartbroken about it (but continued following her like a lost puppy for the next few years in the hopes that she'll love me) (i still hope we patch things up again, i mourn for someone that doesnt exist anymore)

84. Why did your last relationship fail?

Not enough communication, impulsivity

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

When im alone all the time

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

*forgets everything anyone has ever said to me*

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

How they treat the less privileged

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

December 2016, 8 years? Goddamn time flies

Strawberry: What’s the best dipping “sauce”?

Cheeseeee

Mango: Do you have any pets? If so what are they/their names?

1 dog teddy

Lychee: What’s your favorite drink?

Pineapple juice also banana juice

Grape: Do you have any siblings?

Gooseberry: Favorite animal?

Wolf and snakes

Fig: Do you think you’re smart?

No i'm dumb as fuck (also got a low tier education)

Cherry: Deecribe someone you think is cute.

I'm afraid of falling in love i dont want to think about anyone that i could envision a future with

Coconut: Do you like the beach?

Yes but i havent been in like 8 years (dysphoria)

Banana: What’s the worst artificial flavor?

Hmmm i dont know but i am particular about stuff that is open in the fride/freezer like cheese or ice if i know it'll have to go into the fridge/freezer open i'll just est it whole because i hate the taste when it mixes with the other stuff but for example if its cheese thats open and i'll slap it on a pizza thats fine because its heated up and wont smell/taste like anything else

Blackberry: What kind of phone (if any) do you have?

Samsung a54

#asks #MOREEEEE

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