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#starts of as angst
solitary-traveler · 17 days
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Stars Around My Scars
The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it.  “I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”
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Kabukimono x Gn!Reader
Notes: Hiii, so um let me clear a couple things first. I'm not able to post the second part for ascent to oblivion since I'm busy and exams are coming up. I promise I'll upload it as soon as possible. Take this simple gift for now. And yes this is a repost. Anyway, I just merged them together. That was a shitty decision honestly. Seriously, me and my impatient ass yesterday-
Art: @OogyPng (X)
Warning: mentions of self harm, i swear there's fluff-
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The beauty of mortal life comes with its finite period of existence, that fleeting period before dissipating in the blink of an eye. 
Much akin to that of a firework display.
They explode, bragging their scintillating colors that douse the sun in jealousy. With an ear-piercing blast, it blankets the night sky, fluorescing like the moon as it gleams like the stars above.
If life was momentary for a puny human, why not make use of it?
Why not become a wanderer and travel the world?
You get to region hop and satiate your wanderlust. To encounter unfamiliar faces and attach their names to your expanding friends’ list. To pick up tidbits about riveting stories recounted by elders and children alike. The possibilities are unending, a spectacle waiting to be unboxed.
Yet there’s always the impending menace of falling victim to the grappling claws of solitude.
You’ve been plunged into that headspace a few times already. Despite your protests, the glister of joy and love you’ve gotten from simple things flickered faintly, the bleakness settling in. Your surroundings felt barren, as the dismal winds swept away every inch of ecstasy from within you. Your godforsaken history comes back to taunt you, a reminder of your internal demons who’s having a field day tormenting you.
“You’re so fucking petty it’s almost hilarious. So undeserving. Why are you still here? You’re not worth anything. And you’ll never be.”
“An accident? That’s a bullshit excuse.Without you, the accident wouldn’t occur. It’s all your fault. Everything is.”
“Everyone hates you. Why can’t you get that right? Everyone you talk to finds a fault in you that they don’t dare say to your face. But they know. They can’t help but judge you. Of course they would wouldn’t they? You’re a weirdo”
“A disgrace.”
“A worthless piece of shit.”
The thoughts bounce within your mind, endlessly toying with your emotional state.
You emit a burst of bitter laughter.
It‘s cold.
The temperature was rather freezing despite the incandescence the sun was offering. You can barely feel it radiate through your skin, as a pang smashes through your heart.
You don’t want to be cold.
Your gaze shifts to your sword resting on the patch of grass beside you.
Another benefit of wandering. No one would suspect that your scars are self-inflicted.
As far as you’re concerned, It’s only natural for wanderers to acquire marks that resemble cuts and bruises on their bodies. Incessantly faced with the turmoil of threats and hazards, scars are assumed to serve as tokens of the risk they have confronted on their previous journeys. 
Besides, it’s not like you wanted to do it. It just felt right. Like the self imposed wounds on your wrists belonged there. It felt as if the blade slicing your hand like paper was supposed to do it. That watching the red liquid flow out of it was because you deserved it.
At least you’re not cold anymore. Who knew blood could be so warm?
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The distant display of lights crackle against the tranquil night.
You flash a mixture of colors, expressing the turmoil of what you refer to as your emotions. Yet the speck of your allure was gradually dwindling. 
It wouldn’t take long before you vanish.
Like a pretty firework.
But what use is a pretty firework when it waves and dances all alone with the stars, concealed far from anyone's vision? 
What use is a pretty firework when they're just meant to blink momentarily and dissolve?
You got your answer when you met an eccentric puppet during one of your travels. Sweet, little Kabukimono found your dying spark and rekindled it with his saccharine smiles and candied words. 
You grasped the concept of how fireworks are meant to shine for others to see, for at least one person to view and relish. For them to admire. And for them to love.
And Kabukimono loved you.
There’s no denying that. 
Your traveling companion cherished you, always doting you with his presence. He would never leave your side unaccounted for and often offers you praises that you find doubtful.
“You’re so cool Y/N! You’re so efficient in fighting! Can you teach me??”
“I didn’t mean to stare! You just… looked pretty from here…”
“I just wanted to spend time with you! …Is that so bad?”
Much to your skepticism, you find yourself hesitating to swallow his words. They felt like lies, sugar coated phrases meant to lure you into a trap of false hope. False sense of security. I mean, who would find you this interesting? Who would want to be by your side? Who would want to constantly seek you out because they enjoyed your presence? Because they enjoy being with you?
Lies. 
Every honeyed statement that rolls out of his tongue are nothing but lies.
He was going to leave you. Sooner or later.
But for whatever reason, the puppet stayed. He would not tire from his sickening performance of pretending to care for you. He should visit the theater sometimes, given how top tier his acting skills are. He claims with a two faced, innocent grin that the place beside you was his, and only his for as long as you were together. He says he wants to know about you—to study and learn what makes you… you—all the while those deceitful puppy eyes stare at you whenever you recount tales from your journey.
You’re stubborn self refuses to acknowledge the fact that he’s showing you genuine affection. Authentic fondness.
Maybe… it’s not an act? 
You were perplexed. You aren’t sure how to navigate through the solution of this problem, considering how you have no experiences regarding this matter. You aren’t aware of what to do, of what to say. It was frightening really, venturing into uncharted territories. 
So you do nothing.
And Kabukimono remains by your side.
The puppet was nosey when it came to you. One time, he caught a glimpse of your scars when you attempted to snatch a fish for dinner, only to result in you falling into the water. You sure had plenty of them. He sighs, wondering how much they must’ve hurt. Poor you.
In all honesty, he pities you. You carry an aura of despair, a chilling sensation that never seems to go away. It was attached to you in a way, like a melancholic burden that lays upon your shoulders. A suffering the puppet doesn’t want you going through. 
He would often ask about the origin of your scars. You were quite reluctant at first, but his persistence was soon rewarded by one of your wondrous tales. He cherishes your stories. It was always enchanting to hear about different regions that he can not visit. 
The scars on your wrists stood out to him though and he usually expresses great displeasure towards it. 
“I don't like them” he frowns, “They reek of desperation”
In the young Kabuki’s mind, he notices that they don’t match the other marks on the surface of your skin. They were messy and painful to look at, like a blend of misery and torment was doused over that certain area. A mixture that can’t be dried, that can’t be removed.
He detested seeing you drowning in your sorrows.
An idea invaded his thoughts. He picks up a bright yellow marker from your bag and gently clutches your arm. He pops open the cap and uses your hand as a canvas, doodling little stars around your scars. This warrants an eyebrow raise from you, a look he just dismisses. 
“What are you doing?”
He flashes you a grin—one of the many precious expressions he loves to show off to you—as he huffs proudly, “I'm drawing stars!”
You were baffled. “...Why?”
“So that these little guys can protect you! That way, no more painful scars when I'm not around!”
When I'm not around.
A tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips.
You were feeling a bit cold today. 
But Kabukimono seemed to have warmed you up in his own way.
For a moment, your inner demons  and insecurities were thrown behind a wall, padlocked there while Kabuki held the key. The world stilled, no movement dared to interrupt the serene moment between two wanderers who found solace in the presence of each other. 
Your gaze never left the indigo haired puppet as he continues to work on the stars. He was focused on it like it was some masterpiece he was dying to show to the world.
…Seriously, he's such a silly guy.
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tennant-davids · 10 months
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GOOD OMENS 1x02 - 2x06
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egophiliac · 4 months
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Please elaborate on your twst Pokémon headcannons I’m very interested
I had planned on drawing everyone for this (I made a LIST!) but it. hasn't been going well. 💀 soooo here's what I have so far!
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Riddle - Roserade (I was going with 'no legendaries', otherwise I would've given him a Shaymin) (and I don't think Togedemaru is actually a hedgehog or I would've given him one of those too) (...they kind of do fit though. hmm.)
Trey - Alcremie (clover/mint cream + strawberry/ruby cream)
Cater - DITTO SQUAD! DITTO SQUAD! DITTO SQUAD!
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Ace - Impidimp (I feel like there's probably a better one for him, but I can't think of it)
Deuce - Scraggy (meanwhile I KNOW deep in my heart that this is true)
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Leona - Pyroar (but like. a nasty Pyroar. just a grizzly old Pyroar with the shittiest attitude imaginable. they pretend to hate each other but secretly they are a bonded pair, do not separate)
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kittykalliarts · 6 months
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For decades, the blank vision that Iudex Neuvillette wears near his heart has been subject to much discussion in Fontaine. Nobody remembers who it had once belonged to or why the ancient dragon protected it so jealously. It is said that if the Chief Justice would to stare at it for a long while, it would be sure to rain right after. Oh, how beloved that person must've been.
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fir3flytv · 1 month
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Jason Todd can kill a man with his bare hands, but with you, they're as delicate as possible, like you're a porcelain doll, able to crack at the slightest touch. His fingers hover over your skin, a light as a feather you would think you were imagining things. He's cautious, carful, thoughtful. Everything else in his life has broke. Even him. But not you, never you. You can't. You're untouched. Perfect, never to do wrong. He worshipped you like a goddess, like you created heaven and earth. And you did.
You created his earth. His world. You were his heaven. When he died, he swore he saw you. You were his everything, his reason, his purpose, his love, his hope. He was so in love it hurt. Every look shared between you, his mind swirled with possibilities. He couldn't live if something happened to you because of him. He couldn't live without his world. It was an odd place to be stuck in. Scared of staying, scared of leaving. He kept his distance. Touches were never long. Lips ghost against yours. It's like he's never fully there. Every night, the cold side that was suppose to be his haunted you. It's hard to love a ghost. It's like being in love with a figment of your imagination. You find yourself questioning if he's even real. Every time he comes home, he proves to you that he is. That brought upon its own set of questions, heart crying out for more of what it was deprived. Were you not enough reason to stay? Were you not enough? Was he yours like you were his?
You felt like the moon, forever revolving around the Earth, compelled to, even. Always at a safe distance, longing for more. That is, until one night. He comes home, smashing his helmet to the wall. The landlord won't like that, but a problem for another day. Without thinking he crashes into your arms, head buried into your chest. The Earth crashed into the moon. Hell will follow, you both knew that. But it didn't matter. You had him. He had you. that was enough.
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vsimp · 11 months
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bitter
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pairing: kamisato ayato x f!reader
wc: 3k
genre: angst
summary: where you are in an arranged marriage with him and you rarely ever see him
warning: somewhat traditional housewife roles, negative thoughts
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What a cruel fate it was, to fall in love with a man who neither loves or hates you.
To spend long, cold nights alone. A large, indifferent room divided by two separate futons.
You knew that your husband was a busy man. He worked all night, barely resting during the day, and every time you’ve caught glimpse of his office, there was always a huge mess laying around on his desk. But having been married to him for such a long time, you felt that the distance between you two grew longer and longer every day.
In the morning, you would greet him with the biggest smile you could muster. He would greet you back with the same gentle smile everyday. At this point, you knew what his real smile looked like. You don’t recall when the last time he’s ever given you one.
If Miss Ayaka and Thoma were busy, and you dined alone with your husband, the table would be silent. You didn’t know what to say, and he’d also be reading over papers while eating, so you were afraid to disturb him. If the two were present, or if there were any other guests, Ayato would be more active in the conversation, joking lightheartedly and appearing like he was actually enjoying himself.
This man did not treat you unkindly despite having these feelings that lurked in your chest. In fact, it was the opposite. He was a true gentleman every time you interacted with him. He would open the door for you while you two walked together. He would pull out the chair when you wanted to sit. He would hold your hand and escort you to any event, or if you were getting on/off a carriage.
But it was all superficial. It felt like he was forcing himself to do these actions for you. You couldn’t even tell what his intentions are for doing so. You couldn’t tell if he just disliked you, disliked this arranged marriage, or if he just wanted people to see what a loving husband he was, that everything was okay right now even though it really wasn’t.
From touchless nights to meaningless small talk, your heart ached at the thought of everything. You don’t ever recall the last time he’s kissed you on the lips in private. You don’t recall the last time he’s ever opened up to you about the depths of his heart, from the things that scared him the most, to the things that has made him truly happy.
And while you know that a relationship thrives off of communication, you couldn’t help but feel scared. You were scared that the man in front of you would grow even colder, shutting off the depths of his heart forever, pushing you away if you were to ever confront him. Maybe he’d even take it to an extreme and call off the marriage with you, telling you that he never loved you, as this was really only an arrangement between your two families. Maybe he was in love with someone else prior to this marriage, and he has only reserved his heart for them all of these years.
You have seen his darker sides. He doesn’t think that anyone has noticed, but you have. You were always watching him, after all.
A more mischievous side of him existed deep down in there, a certain sly foxiness that could even rival Guuji Yae herself. Sometimes, it would scare you to see that forced smile on his face as if what lingered in his mind were true thoughts darker than what he had initially led on.
But despite his flaws, despite the mask he constantly wore around, you loved him. You loved him so much it hurt. You loved how he cared for people despite them being complete strangers to him. You loved his gentle smile as he holds your hand so tenderly when you accidentally trip. How could a man be so kind, yet so cruel to your heart?
And even as you laid in bed most nights alone, shedding tears as if you were the dark side of the crystal moon longing for the light of the sun, you still loved him regardless.
You were in your futon all alone as of this moment, staring at the ceiling. The room was pitch black and silent, other than the occasional sounds of the residual droplets from the passing rain. Ayato would never let you rest in a room that was cold, so the temperature was heated comfortably, yet you couldn’t help but bundle yourself up under the covers even more.
It was cold without him. You didn’t even realize when the last time he had actually went to bed in this room you both allegedly shared.
But it didn’t matter anyways because his futon laid far away from yours.
Your own husband wouldn’t even come near you when you’re together in the same room. You didn’t know if he just wanted to be respectful as a formality between husband and wife, or if he is repulsed by being in the same vicinity as you, but it hurt regardless.
You sighed as you covered your face with the blanket, trying to get rid of these harboring thoughts. It was no use, no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about your relationship with him every single night. He is what plagues your mind at night, like a thorn lodged deep in a fingertip. It was only soon that you will be bleeding out your love for him.
How could you make a scene about all of this anyways? You've seen how hard he works. You knew that everything he did, it was for the sake of protecting his family and home. Who were you to complain about how busy he was? That was another reason why you continued to keep silent. You thought that your worries meant nothing compared to his own.
Your mind was racing a mile per minute, and you knew you weren't able to get any sleep like this. You got up and out of your futon as you decided to go for a stroll around the estate. The guards protected the outside and prevented from anybody from coming in. As long as you walked around inside, there should be no problem with you strolling the corridors, so long as you remained quiet.
Lighting up a candle, you started meandering through the halls, your footsteps nearly silent with no goal or destination in mind. You didn't even realize your feet had automatically taken you to the doors of his office, the same door that you have stared at many times, knowing that your husband was in there, but you had no reason or courage to open. You see the dimly lit light through the translucent paper sheets, and you knew that tonight was going to be another long night with no rest for him.
You sighed, not remembering the last time you had been in his office, and you were about to step away, but the door suddenly slides open rather violently. You flinch in shock because you didn’t expect for anything to happen, as he usually never notices your presence.
"Who is there?" He said in a serious tone, and you were finally greeted by the man who plagued your every thought and dreams. His hand laid on the hilt of his sword, almost as if he was ready to strike down any intruder who was lurking in the shadows. But instead of drawing his sword, he blinked a few times, realizing it was just you who stood there. He instantly let go of the sword and his expression relaxed a bit, although his eyebrows were furrowed slightly to show confusion. "Y/n? What are you doing here? It is almost 2am right now."
His presence stunned you for a second before you snapped out of the current awe-struck daze you were in. It had been quite a while since you've seen his face. He was rarely home anymore, but when he was, he would be holed up in his office. You only ever see him to greet him when he returned back home, and sometimes when he leaves, as he had a habit of sneaking out secretly every so often.
"Oh." You were flustered at this unexpected situation. "I had trouble sleeping, so I decided to go for a walk..."
"Is something troubling you?" He asked in concern. "If it is work-related with the household, then I know Ayaka would be happy to give you a hand.”
"It's not that..." You shook your head. You didn't want him to worry about you, so you tell him a small lie. "It's just one of those nights..."
"I see."
"Have you been faring well?" You then asked him.
He gave you a small, gentle smile, but you have seen this many times. It was one of the masks he wore when he wasn’t telling the truth.
"I've been doing alright," he replied. Anybody would've believed him, as he would never appear disheveled in front of anybody, but from the way his eyes had a slight dark tint underneath them and the mess that apparently was his desk with papers and pens strewn everywhere, you knew that he was far from so. "I was actually looking to take a break soon from my paperwork. Since you probably will be up for a little bit, would you care to join me?"
An invitation from him was rare, and you immediately jumped ship. You nodded. "Let me go prepare some tea."
"Oh, there's no need to do that."
"Nonsense," you gave him a reassuring smile, knowing what he was going to say. He was so considerate as always, not wanting to trouble you. "It will only be a few.”
You start to walk down the hall to head to the kitchen, but you were surprised to hear footsteps behind you. Before you knew it, Ayato was walking beside you, and you could hear your heart thumping in your chest.
"Ayato?" You questioned.
It was dim, as the candle was the only thing that lit the dark halls, so you can barely make out his expression.
"I'll tag along with you then." He said softly, as to not wake anybody else up. "It will be a good change of pace from being stuck in my office all night."
To you, he was so hard to read at times. If he was accompanying you, he surely must have his reasons, as he had never used any of his personal time on you before. He only accompanied you outside when he had a special meeting at an event that required for both spouses to arrive. Those were the only times when he was somewhat affectionate. That was why you were nervous when he decided to come along with you, thinking he had an ulterior motive like he usual does. But a small, small part of you hoped that it was something else; that he wanted to join you because he missed you and just wanted to idly chat.
You stepped into the kitchen and then lit a brighter lantern to illuminate the room using your own candle. But before you could do anything else, you watched as Ayato's hand pushed a portion of your hair aside. You couldn't help but feel your cheeks heat up at the action, your eyes making its way towards him now that you were able to see his face.
He wore a gentle smile on his face as he looked down at you tenderly. A rare expression indeed, you’ve only noted him to give this look to Ayaka. It made your heart hurt a little as it thumped away in your chest, feeling like you could soar to the moon and never come back.
"Your hair was getting close to the flames, so I didn't want it to burn,” he explained.
"Oh..." You didn't know what else you could say. "Thank you..."
With that, you started boiling the kettle of water, your body moving to find tea leaves. Ayato watches on without speaking a word, and you two drift into a somewhat lulling silence.
As you prepared your leaves, Ayato interrupted the silence no sooner than later.
“There’s another event that the Kanjou Commission is hosting,” he said. There it was. He needed you to attend another political event with him. You were once so naive to think that he would actually spend time with you just because he wanted to. You knew he hated small talk and would rather get straight to the point. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind attending it with me.”
Of course you didn’t mind, if it meant that you would be spending more time with him. But even if you did expect for this, you were still disappointed.
“Sure. When will it be?”
“In two months. They’re hosting a party event to discuss upcoming financial plans for the winter.”
You nodded, your hands a little rougher than usual as you crushed up the dried tea leaves in the mortar. Usually you would hide your emotions well, but it definitely showed in the way you pounded at the leaves.
If Ayato had noticed your switch in moods, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he went over to the cabinet to grab two cups for the tea.
“I appreciate it. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
Another blatant lie fueled only by courtesy. He always says this whenever you did a favor for him. If you were to truly ask for a favor, he would have Thoma somehow fulfill it, or he would say that he was too busy to do it himself, and that he would make it up later. He would send a gift, picked out by either Thoma or Ayaka of course, to later apologize for not fulfilling your promise.
And although it has only happened four or five times before you’d stop asking him for favors, knowing that he was too busy to fulfill them, it still left a bitter feeling within you.
You felt that it was selfish for you to feel this way. You knew that he had lost his parents at a young age, having to resume the role as the leader of the Yashiro Commission and head of the Kamisato Clan very early in life. You thought it wasn’t right for you to feel bitter about small things like this. Yet, as you glanced at the man in front of you, who barely looked at you and instead stared at the bright full moon outside, your heart ached at this solemn expression— one that loomed with fatigue and tiredness.
Maybe what you truly longed for was his happiness. Maybe you wanted to share that happiness with him, although you knew it would be a long shot. So long as he was the head of the Yashiro Commission, the leader of the Shuumatsuban, there will always be a distance between you two, as he prioritized things differently from any other typical person. Even though he was in the same room as you right now, as the moon peaked through the small window, the cicadas singing in the distance, he still looked as alone as ever. Like there was an unmeasurable length between you two, and you were too afraid to cross it, in fear that you would never be able to reach him.
The kettle soon starts to heat up, and you take it off the flame to start steeping the tea leaves. A few minutes of silence passed, and you wondered then if he was going to leave immediately after he finished his tea. It was still hot, so you had a couple more minutes left with him, right?
You poured the tea carefully in the cup and then proceeded to hand it over to him.
“It’s hot, so be careful.”
“Thank you,” he smiled at you and graciously accepted the tea. He picked it up to his lips, blowing it a few times as he inhaled the scent. “This smells like a different type of tea than the one you served at the event the other day.”
You remembered that event. You were attending a birthday party for an old couple who were close friends with the Kamisato’s. You brewed that tea with extra care, knowing that Ayato was going to drink it on that very occasion.
“It was truly delicious,” he complimented and you felt your heart soar at his words once more. “I know I never told you this, but it was one of my favorite hot teas.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I smiled, making note to remember that information. “This one that I brewed helps with stress and calms the mind.”
He took a sip once the tea is cooled down a bit more. “I can see how this one can have that effect. It’s a very mild, but calming flavor. It’s a good choice for you to brew this, since it will probably help you sleep.”
Actually, you had brewed it for him, so that he wouldn’t stress so much, but you held your tongue back. Instead, you took a sip of the hot tea, trying to match his pace so that you both could finish at the same time.
“I hope you like it,” you said.
“I do enjoy it quite a bit,” he replied with a small smile on his face. “I will take it to my office and savor it. I appreciate you willing to spend time with me.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“I hope you get some sleep soon, and try not to stay awake for too long,” your husband stated. “Please pardon me, I must return to my work.”
You forced out a smile in return, knowing that he had cut his time off with you short on purpose.
“Have a good night, Ayato.”
He gave a small nod as he walked out with the tea in his hand. You waited for the door to fully shut before you leaned on the counter with your back pressed to it.
He didn't even wait to finish the tea before he left. He just went straight to the point, pushing you aside as if your feelings had never mattered to him in the first place.
Your hands gripped the ceramic tea cup tightly. It felt like if you had held it tight enough, it would shatter and break, scalding your skin like the way your husband did just now.
Your tears dripped into the tea, the salty solution messing with the delicate taste of the drink as you sipped it, not wanting anything to go to waste. What was once a calming, smooth taste was now bitter.
So, so bitter.
It was another cruel, lonely night that awaited you.
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avenoirn · 5 months
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in his heart's core
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alymccart · 2 months
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[click image, right click > view image in new tab for high res]
*SLAPS COMIC DOWN* WHO WANTS SOME CHAGGIE ANGST!?
Edit to add: Mood music for this one is Counting Stars by NINA
In all seriousness, the really fast reconciliation between Vaggie and Charlie was kinda upsetting to me in that they really didn't *talk* about the issue at all on screen. I understand fully that the low episode count was the likely reason for this. I know they HAD to talk about it at some point before the final battle, though. The entirely unnecessary full-demon rage glare Charlie was giving the defeated Lute seems to lend credence to that theory, at least. Charlie knew what Lute did to Vaggie, even beyond the battle bruises Vaggie had just gotten. Anywayyyy... this is my personal take on how that conversation went down. Used it as a fun experiment with a different coloring style, as well. Enjoy!!
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bovinaeblogs · 7 days
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SHITTEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ill type the text below since its kinda messy
narinder: LAMB!! what kind of prank do you think this is??
lamb: wtf are you talking about??
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full colored verison of the lil' fella too,,,,,, dude doesn't know anything,, cant even count
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shepscapades · 4 months
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I think I need to start putting more Red vs. Blue references in dbhc actually
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x-crowmancer-x · 3 months
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Sometimes it's a tough, angsty day and you put your face in a cake.
It's ok Chayanne.
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Danny couldn't really explain why he always answered this specific summoning ritual. It was like a feeling. One of warmth. Of a mug of hot cocoa in your hands and a nice weighted blanket dropped around your shoulders as a fire blazed in the hearth in front of you, keeping the chill in the rest of the room at bay.
Danny always lost himself in the sensation and found himself back in that stupid circle of protection with that same wierd guy demanding answers. But Danny didn't know anything about a "Lazarus Pit" or a "Pit Madness" let alone a cure for it. Even if he did he wasn't going to tell Red Robin anything after all the times he'd used the marriage summoning spell to get him here.
Earlier on Red had explained it was the only spell known to thier universe that could summon an entity from "The Lazarus Dimension" Which he guessed was another name for the ghost zone and Phantom was the only one to ever be summoned.
Danny couldn't help but wonder why...
After escaping Bird boy and his supernatural pop quiz (oh look, another test for him to flunk) he returns home only to discover his parents had seen him get summoned and accused him of being a ghost that replaced thier baby boy.
Naturalally the next time Red Robin had summoned Phantom he was angry. He was tired and dirty from being on the run from his parents, his worlds US government, and Vlad. Not to mention his own rogues gallery didn't exactly cut him any slack.
So Danny decided that if Red Robin wanted to abuse the power of a marriage ritual than the very least he can do is put his money where his mouth is.
Danny grinned and exited the magic circle, taking delight in Reds widening eyes before he lunged. A kiss sealed the deal, making sure Danny had a safeish place to stay.
After all, married couples in the infinite realms were obligated and even compelled to protect and care for eachother.
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mobius-m-mobius · 5 days
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it's a fair question 🙃 Lokius Incorrect Quotes [12/∞]
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notsad · 8 days
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You've done this before...
Countless of times...
Why now?
Bonus :)
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Kidnapped Astarion
I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.
Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)
So now let's get to that angst:
It had all happened so fast.
One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.
But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.
What a mistake that had been.
When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?
Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.
But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.
It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.
He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.
Terror.
And then, he felt nothing at all.
The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.
Cazador.
"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"
Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?
"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."
Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.
He should have realized there was a reason for it.
He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.
"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"
"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.
Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"
It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"
"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"
"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."
Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."
He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.
But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."
Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"
It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"
Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?
"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"
No. No, no, no.
"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."
"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."
Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.
Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.
His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"
"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"
"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.
He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.
He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.
His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."
He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."
Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."
Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.
It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.
It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.
He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.
If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.
You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.
So why was he still crying over it?
It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.
But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.
It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.
My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.
He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.
I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.
He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.
Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.
Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.
But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.
And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.
It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.
Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.
He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."
The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?
He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.
It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.
Or so he thought.
But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."
Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.
And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.
He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"
He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.
He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."
You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.
Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"
"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"
Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.
"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."
Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."
"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"
"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."
Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"
"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."
"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."
You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."
Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.
Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.
Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...
He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.
And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.
He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.
The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.
He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."
You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.
He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.
Free.
He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.
"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"
"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"
"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."
You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.
But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.
Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.
But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.
As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.
Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?
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crabsnpersimmons · 4 months
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a little wip for a little thing i'm working on!
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