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baldursgate3gayz · 2 months

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I hate this god you have become (and miss the man you once were)

Trigger warning: death, talk of past abuse/sex abuse

Word Count: 5013

‘This was off-putting,’ Gale thought.

He’d received an unusual message, some stranger’s magical prayer to him that just had a location but no other information. Curiosity led him to follow the message, and when he opened his eyes after teleporting, he was even more confused.

It was a temple, one that was actually dedicated to himself, but unlike the others he had visited, this one seemed untaken care of. He was at the top of a grand stone staircase in the heart of some garden, but what was probably once a beautiful landscape was dead and dirty. The stone around him looked as if it had seen battled or been abused by some madman caretaker. The foliage that was around was welted and looked frail as they seemed one weak breeze away from collapsing. It felt uncomfortable; it made the god wary, and he almost left, but a pop from inside the temple caught his attention. He made his way to the building, attentive for anything out of the usual.

It was a rather grand temple despite its worn-down condition. It was a single large room with scattered about damaged pews, and in the center towards the back was a statue of Gale. There were some cracks and pieces missing from it, but was in the best condition out of everything else the god had seen. He almost didn’t notice the person standing at the foot og it, behind a stone table. They were wearing a long, worn down looking black robe that was so long it trailed on the floor around them. They had stark white hair with dulling blue tips that Gale just barely made out in the weak torch lighting that was dotted around the room. Gale’s heart skipped a beat when he saw it; there was only one person he knew with such hair.

They turned sharply, and Gale almost fell to the ground as Tharan revealed himself in the dim light. The half drow and god stared at each other. There was something off about the man, something Gale hadn’t seen in his other inactions with him. There was a craziness to his eyes, a wild, uncontrollable look. For the first time, Gale felt wary.

“Hello, Tharan,” He said, as he always did.

He waited for the other man to respond, as he always did. He wasn’t expecting him to clap so loudly that it echoed through the temple and rang in his ears. He also wasn’t expecting Tharan to turn back around and throw his arms out.

“Friends and family! We thank you for gathering here today as we take time to remember dear old Tharan,” The sorcerer’s voice boomed out, echoing through the temple. Gale frowned in confusion. “A man remembered by many as the leader of the group who defeated the Dead Three’s Absolute plot that would’ve destroyed all of Faerun!” There was a pop of a weak lightning spell that came from Tharan’s fingers. Gale wondered if it was supposed to add a weird dramatic affecting, especially when the half drow looked down at his hands and sighed. There was a deep sadness in his face, something the god had never quite seen before. “But!” He shouted unexpectedly, startling Gale as he snapped out of that sadness. “There was more to him than just the stories that are told so often nowadays. Like many heroes, he dropped off the map after his victory, becoming a deranged, pathetic old man, all for some old lover. One may call it Tharan’s Folly,” He practically shouted.

Those words made Gale angry. Whatever was going on with Tharan, that was a line too far, and he thought the half drow would’ve known that. Those words also echoed throughout the temple as if they were taunting the god. “Tharan, what in the hells is this?” He asked through his teeth, trying to get across his frustration so the other man would stop with the theatrics. Instead, the sorcerer turned around to look at him, a dramatic shocked expression on his face. “Gale!” He exclaimed in a disapproving tone. “I know your mother most definitely taught you proper manners during a funeral. It’s rather rude to interrupt the opening speech,” Tharan snapped. The god stared up at him for a second before shaking his head. “Funeral? I-” He cut himself off as he looked at the other man. That wildness that in the half drow’s eyes seemed to get worse. Tharan had acted strange the other times they had met since his ascension so he wondered if this was another one of those times. “What’s the meaning of all this? I feel like you’re trying to make some sort of point.” He said, crossing his arms. The other man’s eyebrow shot up. “Meaning? There is none; this is my funeral,” Tharan stated bluntly, scoffing as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Gale frowned. “You are not dying, Tharan,” He said lowly; he didn’t find this joke funny. The half drow’s eyes narrowed down at him as he leaned down where he stood above the man at the top of the short set of stairs in front of the statue.

“How would you know?” The sorcerer hissed.

The god’s pounding, angry heart faltered, but he ignored it, pushing the building worried feeling away. “This is not funny, Tharan-” A loud, high-pitched fake laugh interrupted him. “And what about this isn’t funny? After all, it’s only the death of me,” The half drow said with a snide angry voice. That sick, worried feeling in Gale’s gut deepened and started to crawl to his chest. For a long moment, they stared at each other. The god felt his skin cry under the glaring eyes of the other man, filled with so much anger. Tharan opened his mouth as if ready to say something, but he stopped and shook his head. “You know what’s truly funny?” He asked instead, stepping to the side of the alter, his ragged robe bellowing behind him. Gale wondered if he somehow enchanted it to have a dramatic flare.

“When Mystra broke up with you, you isolated yourself. You drove everyone wavy while wallowing in your own pity,” The half drow said, a taunting smile on his lips. The God opened his mouth to snap at the other and reprimand him for bringing up that horrible bitch’s name, but Tharan continued before he could. “When you left me, I did the same thing. I drove everyone away as I morphed into a cold, bitter old man,” Anger seeped through Tharan’s voice as he began to descend down the stairs. “That wasn’t the same! I was a danger to people!” Gale managed to counter, puffing out his chest. “Either way, I’ve always been here for you! I’ve reached out countless times!” He was shocked when the sorcerer rolled his eyes. “Four times is not countless, Gale. And either way, what makes you think I’m not a danger?” Tharan asked, his voice condescending as if he was talking to a disobedient child and not a god. But that did make Gale pause for a moment; there was no way it had only been four times. There had to have been more; there had to be.

Still, the god shook his head. “Why did you call me here, Tharan?” He questioned, trying to ignore the anger he felt. Again, the half drow laughed a fake, dry laugh. “I already told you, it’s my funeral! I mean, who else would show up than the dead man and his ex-lover?” Tharan snapped, his voice getting louder with every word. Gale stared up at him for a moment, trying to figure out just what exactly was going on. The sorcerer was talking crazy to the point where the god was worried the other man had been drugged and maybe cursed. “You aren’t making any sense,” Gale decided to say, taking a step back as he frowned deeper. The sorcerer’s glare deepened, and stepped closer to the other man, leaving into his space. “Godhood has made you dumb, it seems,” Tharan taunted, shaking his head. “Very well, allow me to spell it out for you. No one else is here, and there is no one else coming,” The man finished his sentence with an overdramatic flourish of his robe. The god’s mouth fell open in confusion, and he tried to find logic in the other man. He could keep fighting this, but he felt it would be an endless cycle, especially with the half drow’s tenacity he seemed to have now. Instead, Gale threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, I will play along,” He sighed. “Why aren’t they coming?”

“Why don’t you think!?” Tharan screamed, which made the god stumble back at his volatility. The echoes of the screams ringing in his ears. “I’ve driven them all away! I’ve spent the past eighty years thinking about one person, talking about one fucking person,” The screams were strained, hysterical as the half drow’s eyes filled with immense hate. “I have gone from loving to hating you back and forth for so long. No one wanted to watch it anymore,” Tharan finished, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Gale’s mind felt scattered from his sudden outburst as he scrambled to find something to say. “I..” He stammered, especially as the gaze of hate the sorcerer was giving him intensified. The god had a desire to match the anger he was getting, almost as if to show the other man just how ridiculous he was acting. “If they were your friends, they should’ve tried to help you,” He tried to say with confidence; he wasn’t sure if he was successful. “They did!” The half drow howled. “Do you know how many times I heard them say I was dying over you? That I was killing myself with the grief of you leaving me? They couldn’t handle it anymore,” Tharan cried out.

Anger began boiling in Gale, his fists clenched. He felt betrayed, thrown into the fire of something that was not what it seemed. “Did they tell you that?” He asked. “Are they the ones that made me the villain of this story of yours?” The sorcerer’s face suddenly grew deadly serious. “You were the villain as soon as you used that crown,” He said, cold and quiet. The god tried desperately to ignore the hurt ache his heart gave at that, brushing off that horrible feeling that was filling his chest. “Well, if they truly cared, they wouldn’t have given up,” Gale tried to argue back with a forced smug grin. Some part of him was screaming, disgusted by his words towards the half drow. This was Tharan he was talking to, the love of his life, but he felt this need to stand his ground. He didn’t want to be the villain; he didn’t think he was, or so he believed. “It’s been a long time since we defeated the absolute Gale; I doubt you realize that,” The sorcerer answered somberly. It was the first time in their interaction that the god heard a deep, true sadness in his voice. His eyes were clouded with grief. Again, the god’s heart thumped painfully. “That Tharan from then died the day you became a god. My friends… Our friends had to pull away for their own well-being. They no longer wanted to see what I had become,” Tharan turned away, staring off blankly. “I couldn’t argue against them; I didn’t want them to see this husk of their dead friend anymore either, so I agreed to stay away,” He finished quietly, still staring off. Gale swallowed against his tight throat.

“You aren’t dead, Tharan,” He said, voice shakey despite his efforts to try and seem confident.

There was a very long stretch of silence as the god stared at the half drow. He was still looking off, face stone still. Gale felt that itch to try and fill the silence; he wanted to step forward and fix this. He could if he offered the power of a god to the other man again, and Tharan accepted it. He could mend this, and everything would be fine. That feeling eating away at his chest would go away, the half drow would be the man Gale remembered, and all of this would fade away into a horrible memory. Before he could open his mouth, though, Tharan slowly turned his head to look at Gale. A fearful shudder shot through the god’s spine at those dead eyes boring into him.

“I might as well be.” He said, voice flat and low.

Those words felt like knives in Gale’s chest, the pain making all the air the god had vanish. Any confidence he had built disappeared to shame. He desperately tried to brush it away, but those cold eyes fixated on him wouldn’t let it. It was almost like the half drow was controlling the feeling deep in Gale. Eventually, Tharan’s eyes drifted away as he walked past the god, his dramatic robe brushing against his skin. The man stood at the entrance of the temple, looking out into the dark night sky. The god turned to look at him fully, fighting the desire to reach out and place his hand on the half drow’s shoulder.

“Do you know what makes this all just… so much worse?” Tharan eventually asked. “I caused all of this. If I had stood my ground, tried harder to sway you from this path, then maybe…” He looked over his shoulder at Gale. His eye, the one Volo had replaced, was far duller than the god remembered it being. “What do you mean?” Gale asked softly. The sorcerer’s eye flickered away again. “When we were in Baldur’s Gate after we found the book of Karsus. You showed me the Outer Planes, you asked me if I would agree to you using the crown,” The sorcerer’s eyes came back to Gale’s. The god remembered, at least kind of. “I protested at first. I said that I didn't need a god, that I just wanted you as you were, but you pushed back, and I…” Tharan’s eyes squeezed shut as he turned away from the god again. His shoulders shook very slightly, and Gale swore he heard a muffled sob. “I didn’t want to lose you,” The half drow started, his voice shaky. “You were the best thing I had ever experienced in so many years, and I was terrified of losing you,” He gave an unamused laugh; it was forced. “That’s why I agreed, but I lost you anyway. All I did was sentence myself to another eighty years of misery,” The sorcerer said. There was another stifled sob, but this time it was louder. Gale frowned in confusion as he gained the confidence to reach out for the other man. “Another?” The god asked softly, just as he was about to place his hand on the other man’s shoulder.

Suddenly, Tharsn’s entire body went rigid and snapped around, causing Gale to stumble back from the suddenness of it all. The half drow’s eyes were so wide. There were some specks of tears, but there was also a crazed, angry look. This anger was different, though; this was something Gale had never seen before from the man. This was a boiling, roaring disgust, a deep-seated hatred that must have been festering for a long, long time, and the god was the one responsible for it. He didn’t need to be told; he could feel it blazing in the other man’s eyes. He was so distracted by the hate that he was caught off guard by the howling screech Tharan let out.

“I cannot believe I was so foolish!” He screamed, echoing not only in the temple but to the courtyard below. “How unbelievably fucking stupid of me,” The sorcerer’s arms were being thrown about as he began wildly moving. Gale’s stomach turned into anxious knots at the erratic movements. “What a godsdamn waste of eighty fucking years!” Tharan screamed; it was strained as he did it at the top of his lungs. An explosive pop came out of the half drow’s fingertips as he bellowed out. Gale felt the heat of the magic from his spot, and it burned through the ground with as much anger as the other man seemed to have. “Tharan!” The god shouted, taking another step back to avoid the wild magic. He almost fell when the other man suddenly teleported to him, getting right inot the god’s face. “You know,” Tharan had tears going down his cheeks. “I had hoped, a small foolish bit of me had hoped that you spent the last years thinking about me the same ridiculous amount that I have thought of you,” The man hissed, making Gale trip backward as the sorcerer crowded him back. The god was too stunned to try to speak; he felt tiny in comparison to the half drow’s explosive anger. Tharan stopped moving to let out a howl of hate. “What an idiot I am! What a fucking fool I have been to spend all these years blubbering and crying over you and you… and… You…” He trailed off, struggling to catch his breath. Gale watched as the tears began to pour from his eyes. With the sorcerer so close, the god began to see more details of his face he hadn’t noticed before. His hair was no longer bright white but was greyer and thicker. Deep wrinkles made his face sunken in, and his skin seemed far more leathery. His cheekbones were much more prominent as his skin seemed to cling to his skull, no longer able to fill out his face. When Tharan’s eyes locked onto Gale’s, he wondered if they had always looked so weathered. “You don’t remember what my life was like before we met. You were the only one I had told and you don’t even remember.” The half drow’s voice was so quiet, it shook so weakly. Gale bit his tongue to stop his own tears; this wasn’t his place to cry.

“Tharan… I’m so sorry, I should-” The gods started to say as he reached out for the other man, but Tharan pulled away. “I remember everything you ever told me. The yawning portal, you summoning Tara, the story of your orb, your amazing mother, how you struggled with students, your occasional hand at poetry, that hundar sauce you made with a wallop of a kick, and so much more,” The sorcerer said as he glared down the god. His tears were still falling. “I have played each and every one of our conversations in my head over and over again for eighty years. And you remember nothing of my past?” Tharan asked, this time his voice was quiet with devastation as his eyes grew deeply sad.

Gale wanted to say that he did remember; he wanted to recall those memories with the same clarity that the half drow had, but he couldn’t. Everything before the crown, all the pain and misery caused by Mystra, became covered by what he thought of as a frosted window. The god found those memories blurry and indistinguishable, but they weren’t the only memories. Everything was obscured to the god, including his time with Tharan. His feelings were still there; he had an overwhelming love for the half drow that never went away, but the times they shared were also behind that window. Gale hung his head, willingly showing shame for the first time since coming to the temple. “I’m sorry, Tharan, I don’t remember,” He fumbled through his words, finding it hard to speak past the lump in his throat and the pain in his chest. There was a sad scoff that made him tilt his head up to look at the sorcerer. “I shouldn’t tell you; you should remember,” Tharan said through his tears. He closed his eyes before taking a few deep breaths, seemingly trying to calm himself. When his eyes reopened, he deliberately kept his gaze from Gale’s.

“I grew up in the Underdark to a hateful father with seven half-siblings. He hated us all, but especially me for being the half drow dumped on his front step one day,” Gale tried to remember this story, but his mind could not find it. It made him sick. “One day, I walked into my father brutally beating one of my younger siblings. I snapped, exploded actually, and ended up killing my entire family when I did. It was the day I learned I was a wild magic user,” Tharan spoke in a choppy manner and his eyes seemed to be somewhere else. “After that, I was dropped off at some guild. From ten to twenty, I lived there. They weren’t a family, but they took care of me,” The sorcerer’s eyes darkened. “Until they didn’t,”

“They had me meet with a devil; Dharmos was his name. We only had one exchange, giving each other our names, nothing more. At least, I thought nothing of it,” The frown the half drow had deepened even more, a hate once again in his eyes. “I didn't know the guild had sold me to him until I was already in the hells, chained and now wed to the devil,” Tharan slowly lifted his left hand, and Gale saw a deep indent around his ring finger. It truly surprised him; he swore he had never seen that before, or maybe he… He couldn’t remember it. “The next eighty years were full of torment as Dharmos’ husband,” More tears were coming down the man’s cheek, and before Gale could stop himself, he reached out and wiped them with his thumb. The movement felt familiar, like he was reenacting a memory. The two men stared at each other briefly, and Gale felt he could suddenly feel everything clearer. This felt right, the two of them sharing the moment together. The god felt as if nothing could harm them, that nothing bad could happen. It didn’t last, though, as Tharan frowned as he roughly pushed Gale’s hand away. Shame, again, burned through the god. The half drow glared him down again before turning out to the night sky again.

“I was caged and tortured, treated like I was less than nothing. He’d muzzled and gaged me when he didn’t want to hear my cries. He’d have my bones crushed, had my fingernails ripped off, broke my limbs, snapped my fingers over and over again,” There was a pain in the sorcerer’s voice but also this strange nostalgia. Gale felt sick at the implications that carried as if the other man wished to be back there. “I was kept from food and water for agonizing amounts of days. He’d crave into my skin like I was a canvas for his artwork. He would rape me or have me raped whenever and wherever he desired, but I wasn’t able to fight for myself,” The god watched Tharan’s fist tighten as his shoulder slowly tensed up. “And I told myself there must be some reason he was doing it, but no, there was no reason. No other reasons than for his sick, sadistic pleasure,” The tension suddenly skyrocketed. Sparks began to crackle around the half drow. He took a few steps forward, now outside of the temple at the top of the stairs, looking out into the darkness. “And you don’t remember any of that?” His voice was quiet, but it still managed to echo. Gale felt himself shrink down as the sorcerer snapped around to glare at him. The god was pinned down by those eyes, the anger and sadness behind them.

“What a waste,” Tharan whispered.

Gale felt defeated at those worlds; he felt everything he’d done to get here weigh down on his shoulders. How could he have let this happen? How had it been so long? How had he tried so little to get Tharan to join him in godhood?

How had he let the love of his life suffer for so long?

He could fix this, though; he could make things right. Gale would make the half drow a god, and all of this would go away; they could fix it together. He can make it up to the sorcerer. He took in a deep breath, which was a bit of a struggle against the nerves in his chest. He couldn’t wait for that feeling to go away. The god opened his mouth to speak, but the half drow took a few steps down the stairs, and Gale scrambled to follow him. He forced himself to stand next to the other despite his fear. Tharan didn’t look at him though, instead up at the stars.

“Tharan,” The god’s voice was shaky. “I… Let me make it up to you; I could fix this; I could fix you if I made you a god,” He tried to make his words solid, trying to put on an air of confidence. “Please, I want you by my side again, besides…” Gale sighed, taking a careful step toward the sorcerer. “I owe you that,” For a long moment, Tharan stared up at the sky, his face unchanging. Gale could feel his confidence slipping away, his body wavering under the silence. Then, the half drow turned to him, and the god’s confidence grew for a second until he saw the hateful look the sorcerer had.

“There is nothing left to fix,” Tharan answered coldly.

For once in his foolish life, Gale could find no words.

The sorcerer looked towards the sky again as he sighed. The god followed his eyes, he was surprised by the color changing in the sky. It felt like time was going so fast.

“A new dawn,” Tharan spoke softly. “For an ending life,”

Before the god could say anything, the half drow collapsed to the ground, shocking Gale. The other man’s robe bellowed out around him as he fell, splayed out like a shadow consuming the sorcerer. The god dropped to his knees with a cry of Tharan’s name that echoed around him. Reflexively, he grabbed the man and was surprised that he actually leaned against the god. Gale carefully placed Tharan on his lap and cradled his upper body. Now that he was holding him, the god felt just how bony the half drow had become, how light he felt against Gale. His skin was so shallow, his eyes dull, and there was a deep, aged sadness that sunk in the sorcerer’s entire body. That’s when it washed over the god, with his lover collapsed in his arms.

Tharan was dying, and it was Gale’s fault.

He was dying of heartbreak all because of Gale.

Tears began to cloud the god’s vision; they took hold of his throat, practically choking him. It was a miracle he managed to speak. “Please, Tharan, I’m so sorry I can’t,” A sob crawled out of his throat. “I can't lose you, too,”

A frail hand reached up to his cheek, forcing Gale to look down at Tharan. Those eyes he looked into were unrelenting.

‘You already did,” The half drow choked out. The god shook his head, whether out of denial or sadness, even he wasn’t sure.

“I love you,” Gale sobbed, his body shaking as he reached a hand up to the one on his cheek. Tharan’s weakly pulled away.

“I loved the man you were,” He said back, weak but still angry.

All Gale could do was cry.

He looked away as he hung his head; he couldn’t make himself look down at Tharan. He was startled when the god felt a weak yank to his robe and forced himself to look down at the sorcerer. Tharan’s face was so… old and tired. The man opened his mouth and few times, and his eyes fluttered a little before he managed a weak voice.

“I hope this tortures you for as long as it did me. I hope you suffer with this pain for eternity. I hope this feeling haunts you for the rest of your time,” Tharan’s hand dropped away limply, his breaths grew even more shallow as he stared up past Gale’s head.

“And I hope it was worth it.”

His voice faded, his breaths weakened and his eyes clouded over. There was a moment where Gale saw this spark in the man’s eyes, something that sued to be a full sparkle of magic but now a weak blink of the light. The chaos that roared in the sorcerer was burning out.

Gale opened his mouth, ready to plea and beg for Tharan to stay with him, but before he could, the man just… fell limp.

His arm dropped, his head sagged back and his eyes blanked. A vibration that was all around that Gale hadn’t even noticed disappeared. Tharan’s wild magic disappeared from the realm.

“No,” The god whimpered as he grabbed the half drow’s hand. “You can’t leave me, Tharan. Not like this,” He begged, willing the man to move. But he didn’t. His eyes stayed still. A sob crawled out of Gale as he pulled Tharan closer, begging into the air for any movement, a beat of the half drow’s heart. Yet there was nothing; his heart was unmoving. “Please come back. I need to fix this,” The god’s cries became louder, he no longer cared to try and control himself.

The shame he was tried ton push away began to flood him, grief drowning him. He felt like he couldn’t breath; he couldn’t think he was underwater, and the only man who could help him was now dead in his arms.

Killed by Gale.

“It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t worth it.” He repeated over and over to the sorcerer, not that it mattered.

It was too late; Gale was far too late.

So the wizard sat, holding the dead sorcerer in his arms, dead by the hands of the man who chose to be a god.

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Hello, I managed to write my angry version and it ended up being a lot longer than expected :) There is an ending I will be writing soon, but it will mainly be dialogue-based before rolling into hopefully a new series if I can make myself do it.

Again, I have no ascended Gale nor finished the game so I don't really know how it goes but this is what I feel like would happen cause I a) love writing video game men I love being bad people and b) Gale gets icky if you agree to give him the crown so I can kinda assume what he'd be like ascended which I don't like :(

Thanks for reading and here is the other version if you'd like to read that too!

Also, the Ao3 link to the original fanfic where this part has been added.

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corvid-feathers · 3 months

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You should talk about your wof ocs :3

oh boy I got so excited to share my characters that I wrote a short story that takes place at the very beginning of my oc's lore. I'll put the character references at the end

Queen Treefrog was a young rainwing Queen, she had been in power for two weeks when she started acting odd. Leopard, a half nightwing dragonet was the first to notice the change. Treefrog had started doing things that just, didn’t make sense. She assigned battle training to the rainwing school lessons…claiming it was for the good of the tribe. Despite the fact that the rainwings have been at peace with all other tribes for longer than Leopard could remember.

She looked a bit off too, as if a different shade of blue than normal…but everyone told him that she was the same colors and that Leopard must just not remember it right. She had a new scar even though she’d never got into any fights. Leopard could swear her patterns were different!

No matter how many differences Leopard pointed out, nobody believed him. The rainwings assumed the young hybrid was just paranoid. Leopard felt like he was going crazy, something was wrong and nobody else noticed! He decided to follow the Queen that night. She often left to patrol the rainforest at sundown. It proved difficult since he was unable to change his scale color, luckily the sunset helped him stick to the shadows.

His little spy mission led him to a rather hard to find clearing. There was the Queen, standing in front of a corpse. Whoever it was had clearly decomposed a bit, Leopard had to fight his urge to gag. He couldn’t tell who it was. After a few moments Treefrog started to leave the clearing. As his Queen left curiosity flooded Leopard’s mind, he wanted to know who the dead rainwing was. Was it a criminal? Competition for the throne? Someone Treefrog just didn’t like? Upon closer inspection, he froze.

Lying dead in front of Leopard’s own eyes, was Queen Treefrog.

Queen Treefrog's reference

The faker's reference

Leopard's reference

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clayteland · 4 months

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I'm kinda new around here, who is this 'mother'

"Mother" is my Og creepypasta. In this universe the ma'am is just the one who "takes care" of the proxys, or at least she is kind enough with them to be around them.

Here, Clara is nothing else than the spirit of someone who was once a Mother, there the nickname.

#creepypasta #artists on tumblr #original drawing #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta oc #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta blog #woman #beautiful women #30s #old woman #beutiful #oc artwork #oc tag #oc death #oc art

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tastylemonbread · 9 months

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a couple WIPs

#art tag #oc #oc death

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pullingyourstrings · 1 year

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Sunny with a chance of rainbows

Pairing: dad!gareth x bestfriend gn!reader

Summary: Your best friend Gareth becomes a single dad and you decide to help him raise his daughter Sunny.

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: oc!Sunny Emerson, oc!Anne, character death, dealing with grief, fluff, happy ending.

Gareth was your best friend since you were kids and you still talked everyday, even when you moved out to another city. So it was obvious you were coming back to Hawkins the day he called to tell you his girlfriend Anne got into a car accident, leaving him and their 6 months old daughter, Sunny, all alone.

You arrived at Mrs. Emerson's house the same day, supporting them any way you could and helping Gareth move back and into his feet on the next few days. He was immensely grateful to you, but insisted you didn't need to stay forever. He and his mom would make it work. But you knew his mom was old and sure, she could help with Sunny, but babies need a lot of care and attention and she couldn't do it alone all the time while Gareth worked hard to support his family.

"Gare, please let me help you. At least until Corroded Coffin fires off and you don't have to work at that shitty restaurant anymore" you offered.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna bother you more than I already did, I don't wanna ruin all your plans and–" you understood where he was coming from, even grieving he was always kind and selfless, but to you this was more important than anything. You remembered all the times Gareth and his family helped with your troubled childhood, how many times they welcomed you in their house, how many times they went to your presentations when your busy parents couldn't make it, how Gareth's mom taught you how to cook and how to fix a lightbulb for when you were on your own, his sisters taught you how to wear make up and his dad helped you get your first job. You remembered how Anne always treated you nicely, how she made sure Gareth called to check up on you. It was only fair you gave something in return to all of them.

"I'm staying. You're not bothering me. I can stay here with her, help your mom around the house..." you turned your attention to Sunny, resting her head on her dad's chest and giving you the side eye. "Isn't that right, honey? We're gonna have so much fun!" you talked in a warm, reassuring voice and Sunny expression changed, smiling big and giving you grabby hands. She threw herself from her dad's arms and you grabbed her.

"That's right! Let's go inside to play, yeah?" you walked towards Gareth's house, tickling Sunny's tummy and making her giggle. "Say bye bye to daddy" you waved at Gareth's direction and Sunny mirrored you. Gareth smiled and waved back before getting in his car and leaving for work.

You never wanted kids, mainly because you've always been scared of the pregnancy part, but helping your best friend raise his kid? That's pretty rad. You found yourself quite enjoying it and getting more and more attached to Sunny. She was the funniest smartest little girl you've ever known. She liked playing games, listening to music and dancing. She was really easy to take care of, she rarely threw tantrums and enjoyed quiet times watching TV or when you're reading her a book. Mrs. Emerson said her good behavior meant you were doing a pretty good job at raising her and you liked to believe it was true. After all, you weren't doing it alone and Gareth was indeed a really great dad. He always said he wanted to be the dad he never had. He played with her, took her to corroded coffin rehearsals, they often baked together... He made sure to give her everything she needed, all attention and love he could.

Time flew by and suddenly it was Sunny's 2 year old birthday. Still, you only stayed with her while Gareth was working and went home to your little cabin as soon as he got home. Mrs. Emerson would always invite you to stay, since after Gareth's sisters left to build their own families, she often felt lonely. Sunny has been a light on her life and she also really enjoyed your company. But you thought it was better this way. You liked to give them space to be their own little family because, sometimes, you still felt like an intruder. You weren't trying to replace her mother. You were just trying your best to raise her in a respectful, kind and loveable way and you hoped that, wherever Anne was, she was watching approvingly. You knew Gareth was. You two spent a lot of time together, from taking Sunny out on fun trips to the mall, the park or the beach, to staying home with her, baking and watching movies. And you often caught him staring at you while you played with her and he had this look on his face, this soft smile and shining eyes, that you couldn't point your finger on what it meant. So you took it as approval, as recognition that he saw how much you cared and loved his kid. So much, that you couldn't help but miss her and be worried whenever you were apart from her.

You received a call one night, a tired Gareth on the other side and you could hear the faint noise of Sunny's crying.

"Hey... Can you come over please? Sunny has been crying nonstop since you left and I-I don't know what to do."

"I'm coming." you left immediately, heading to his house. You walked up the stairs quickly, finding him with her in his arms, swaying her back and forth. You could tell she was tired, eyes closed, body limp on his arms but she still cried, inconsolable.

"What's wrong?" you asked worried, approaching them.

"I don't know! I tried everything, I fed her, changed her diaper, checked her temperature. Everything is fine, you're fine baby" he talked more to her than to you, kissing her forehead gently and shushing her.

"Can I try?" you offered and Gareth nodded, placing her in your lap. You hugged her close to your chest and started humming to her a little song you made up when you just started doing this. She stopped crying when she recognized you and your voice, sighing deeply. She was asleep just minutes after.

"Huh. I guess she just missed you. She's so used to having you around" Gareth whispered as you placed her in her crib gently as to not wake her up. "Which is great. Because I guess I'm pretty used to it too" he completed when you turned to face him. And there was that face again, the one you couldn't point your finger on. You understood it now as he got closer to you.

"Listen, Gare, you don't need to do this. I love Sunny like she's mine but we don't have to just because I'm helping with her" you placed your hand on his chest and took a few steps back.

"I know but I want to. I really like you, Y/N..." he grabbed your hand and despite you shutting him down, he still smiled softly.

"I like you too, we've been friends forever but..." his smile faded. "But I knew Anne and I'm not in any way trying to replace her." you confessed. You knew you were letting your insecurities get in the way, but he needed to know.

"I understand that." He took a step back, leaning on the wall opposite from Sunny's crib. You leaned beside him, watching her sleep. "You're not replacing her though. She's part of our life and she always will be. But knowing her, she would want Sunny to have the best family ever. She would want us to be happy. And you make us happy." he reassured you. "So if you want to just... keep things like they are... that's fine by me. But I really, really want us to be a family. Like, officially." he finally looked at you, your eyes meeting again. You thought about it, your heart racing uncontrollably. This wasn't new. You always had a special place for Gareth in your heart and the connection you two had was something meant to be since the first time you met. Raising Sunny together was only a confirmation of that, besides being the best thing that ever happened to you.

"Okay" you smiled "I think I want that too."

Nothing really changes, other than you moving in with them to stop paying rent and stopping answering "Oh no, we're not a couple" when people in the street asked about you and Gareth.

With Gareth being your best friend since forever, you were already close, already knew all of his perks and you already loved him when it all started, so your relationship blossomed easily. Gareth is easy to love and fun to be around and he found himself in the same situation, falling in love with you more and more everyday. Eddie would often joke and say that you looked like the perfect family he saw on tv ads.

Eventually Corroded Coffin blows up and the boys sign a deal for their first tour around America. Gareth finds himself in a conflict, because he REALLY doesn't want to leave you and Sunny in Hawkins while he travels. He'll just miss you too much. But this was always his dream, he couldn't just drop it now that they finally got something. So his plan was to arrange everything so it would accommodate you both, from the most comfortable tour bus to how it would work with Sunny's education and healthcare. That way, you couldn't say no when he invited you to go touring with them. And you're glad he did because it was a blast. All the fans knew about Sunny and they really loved and cared about her. They also knew about you and how happy you and Gareth were as a couple, so they're always respectful and kind. Sunny grew up on a tour bus, traveling the world, and all of you loved it so much, so happy you created this amazing family.

#i love this au so much #i hope you guys like it too #gareth emerson #gareth stranger things #gareth the great #gareth emerson x gn!reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #gareth emerson x reader #dad!gareth emerson #oc anne #oc sunny emerson #oc death #stranger things au #stranger things fanfic #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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gypsynurooexemption · 10 months

Text

His Grief

Miguel's sharp gaze falls upon the bruises adorning your face and neck, and a flicker of concern flashes across his eyes. "Who did this to you?" His voice carries a tinge of anger.

Caught off guard by his unexpected reaction, you find yourself momentarily speechless. Yeah, you two know each other, but your relationship leans more towards being adversaries than friends. After all, you were a villain, driven solely by personal gain. So why does he seem to care?

"Answer me," he grits his teeth.

Ryo huffs

"I'm fine."

"I'm not asking how you're feeling, I'm asking who hurt you." Miguel takes a step closer, bringing him inches from your face. His words are cold, yet there's not an ounce of maliciousness behind them, just pure, genuine concern.

You find yourself slightly intimidated by how close he is to you, but after a moment, you find yourself warming up to him. He actually cares about your well-being, which is something you're not used to.

"Tell me. Who hurt you?"

"It doesn't matter because I'm fine "

Ryo steps back and her back hits a wall. Her eyes widen slightly at the realisation. She was cornered.

His face hardens into a solemn frown, and a spark of irritation flashes in his eyes. "Not that again, don't you ever listen?" He grabs your shoulders with force and pins you against the wall, standing mere centimeters apart.

"Tell me who hurt you. Now."

Ryo struggles in his grasp

"Let. Me. Go! It doesn't matter!"

"It matters to me." His jaw clenches as he brings his face mere centimeters from yours, the anger in his eyes making it look like he's ready to throw a punch.

"You matter to me. And if someone's harming you in any way - physically or mentally - I need to know so that I can make sure they can't do that to you again. Is that understood?"

"Why does it matter so much? I'm a villain for Christ sake! "

"You may be a villain, but you're still a human being. And just because you've committed crimes in the past doesn't mean you deserve to be abused. Who hurt you?" He asks for the third time, his voice hard and cold.

He doesn't seem like the kind of hero who would stand idly by while someone gets abused. The thought makes you feel slightly warm inside, and even though your eyes are filled with tears from the pain of his rough grip, you feel yourself slightly wanting to lean a little closer to his face.

Ryo sighs and her face turns sad

"..my dad.. He gets a little violent when he drinks... "

A flicker of rage flashes in his eyes at hearing the name, but it quickly fades away when you meet his gaze. "Where is he?" Miguel's voice becomes cold and dangerous.

"Tell me where he is, and I'll make sure he never lays a finger on you again." He releases your shoulders and steps back, his fists trembling with suppressed anger.

Ryo places a hand on Miguel's chest

"It's fine..."

"It's not fine." Miguel scoffs and shakes his head. "You deserve someone who won't hurt you, someone who will treat you with the respect and kindness you deserve. Not someone like him. Don't let yourself get abused again by anyone. You hear me?" He stares at you, a hint of gentleness in his dark brown eyes. "You deserve better."

Ryo sighs her expression softening

"Miguel... "

She steps forward and pleases her forhead on his chest

"Having you care is enough.."

Miguel's eyes widen in surprise as you place you forehead on his chest, and he's left speechless for a few seconds.

"I..." He begins, but his sentence is cut off when he can't think of a sensible response. Instead of using his words, he wraps you in a tight embrace, lightly tracing your back with his fingertips.

"I'll always be by your side, no matter what."

And true to his word he stuck by her side for years. He helped her get better, and she helped him to all down when he was angry. Life for the two was good. Until a mission hoes wrong and Ryo is shot

Ryo ducks at the gunfire

"Miguel there's too many-"

Ryo stopsid sentence and holds her side. She was shot. She dropped to her knees

Miguel's reaction to hearing Ryo being shot is immediate and intense; his eyes widen, and he lets out a yell of rage before charging towards the enemies and sending them flying like ragdolls.

"Ryo!" He cries as he frantically makes his way over to her. He drops down to his knees beside her and holds her in his arms as he tries to assess her condition. "Oh god, Ryo, this isn't happening, please - tell me you're okay." His voice is riddled with despair and anguish, his eyes filled with tears.

Ryo hiccups for a it as she smiles sadly

"I'm... S-sorry Miguel.... Im sorry..."

She places a hand on Miguel's cheek as her body tembles and she gasps for air

Miguel gazes down at you in horror, the tears on his face making his mask wet as he's unable to think of what to do. His heart is breaking into a hundred pieces right now, and his mind is racing from all the emotions he's feeling.

"You can't die..." he whispers, his voice filled with tears. He strokes your hair softly, a look of pure devastation on his face. "Ryo, you can't die..."

Ryo leans up slowly and kisses Miguel's lips

"I never got to tell you.... I love you...Miguel O'Hara... You were the best thing that happened to me..."

Miguel's eyes widen in surprise at the sudden declaration, and a flicker of hope briefly flashes in his eyes when he realizes that Ryo's alive and awake, but the thought is quickly extinguished as he sees the deep crimson stain seeping from her wound.

"Ryo..." He whispers, unable to utter anything else. He leans forward to gently kiss her forehead, his eyes brimming with tears as a painful sob escapes from his lips. He pulls her close into his arms, holding her tightly against him. "I love you."

Ryo takes a final shuddered breath and closes her eyes got the last time

Miguel holds Ryo in his arms as the light slowly fades from her eyes, a painful wail of anguish escaping from his grief-stricken lips. It feels like his entire world is collapsing around him, like he's been robbed of the only person that truly cared for him.

As Ryo draws her final breath, his body is racked with sobs while a silent tear drops onto her brow. He's lost the love of his life, and in the cruelest way possible. How could this happen, to her of all people?After a while, Miguel's sobs subside into silent tears. He gently wipes the tears from his eyes and caresses Ryo's cheek, his heart filled with profound grief.

There's nothing he wouldn't give to bring her back to life, to hear her voice and feel her tender touch, yet he knows that this is not possible. The guilt of not having done more to save her is eating him up inside, and his heart feels as if it's been torn in half.

The loss of the woman he loved hurts, and his grief is palpable.

#Miguel O'Hara #miguel angst #miguel x oc #miguel o'hara angst #oc death

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nervousloveheart · 9 months

Text

A surviving summer fanfic explaining why Summer's dad was never mentioned.

I still remember the first time I saw her. She was so small, so wrinkled, so... in need of protection and help. My little Summer. Margot had her nestled on her chest, a blanket wrapping around her in a fashion that only let her face peek out. A feeling of wonder overtook me. Did I really have a part in making that mound of flesh? Was she really my kid? Did I really get to raise her? Along with Margot? That was, that was a big responsibility. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this. Maybe I didn’t have what it took. I turned to leave and was almost at the door when I heard Summer grunt and squirm. She could make noises? I went back into the room and stood nervously beside Margot, unsure of what to do with my hands.

Margot looked up at me, sweat and tears still staining her face. She managed an exhausted smile, ‘’Do you want to meet her?’’

Would she be safe with me? If I held her, would she shatter? Would she be scared of me? I was a big guy after all, and all the kids in our neighborhood ran away from me when I was outside. Was my daughter going to be just like them? I would never hurt her, and if I had it my way, no one ever would. But what would it take to convince her of that?

Margot tugged on my sleeve, ‘’Chuck, she’s just a baby. She’s not going to hurt you.’’

I choked, ‘’What if I accidentally hurt her? What if--’’

Margot grabbed my hand and guided it to cup the back of Summers head. I was about to pull away when she opened her eyes and yawned. That was it. I was done for. My life would never be the same. I wouldn’t ever be the same. I was completely taken aback by how powerful babies could be. The rest of the world didn’t matter, all I could see was my little girl and my wife, the two most important people in my life, together, and safe.

Safe. I had to make sure they were safe. I looked at the nurse who was monitoring Margot, ‘’There weren’t any complications, were there?’’

He looked up from his clipboard, ‘’No, both the mother and the baby are completely fine. They just need a bit of sleep and then they’ll be able to leave in the morning.’’

Wishing I had studied midwifery so I could tell for myself if there was something wrong with either of them, I looked at the monitors and machinery, trying to figure out what they meant. I had to know, I needed to make sure that they were okay.

Margot kissed my hand, ‘’Honey, I’m okay. We’re both okay. Do you wanna hold her?’’

I don’t know how it happened, but I ended up cradling my baby girl, cooing and rubbing her back. I really got to be her dad? That was the greatest thing I’d ever be. Her dad. Forever.

Three years later...

‘’Daddy?’’

Wakefulness slowly began to seep into my consciousness, pulling me out of the depths of my mind. I cracked open my eyes, ‘’Summer? What's wrong?’’

Summer gripped her stuffed bear closer, ‘’Mommy’s crying.’’

I froze. Why would she be crying? Was somebody sick? Dead? Hurt? Moving away? Had she been fired? I closed my medical textbook and stood up, ‘’Where is she?’’ I put my glasses on.

Summer grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me into the living room, stopping at the door and giving me a look that said to go in and check on her. I strode over and knelt beside her, ‘’Margot? What's happening?’’

She whipped her eyes and looked at me, ‘’I just got a message from my agent, and she said--’’ she burst into sobs again and buried her head into my chest.

I wrapped my arms around her and rubbed circles into her back. I knew what her agent had said she had a new project in a foreign country. It had happened so many times. This time her agent hadn’t even given her the decency of a month's break. Seriously, what was wrong with them? I loved the work Margot did, it brought about change for the better, it was important. But I drew the limit when it upset her. I wanted to tell her to just ask for an extension or at least a raise, but now was not the time. Right now, she needed me, and to be honest, I needed her as well.

‘’Here’s toilet paper.’’

I looked down to find Summer holding up a toilet roll, futilely trying to stop her lower lip from quivering.

Gently, I reminded her that she could cry too, that I didn’t mind and that it was healthy.

She looked back at me through glassy eyes, ‘’Mommy goes away all the time, it’s not sad anymore.’’

Tears stung my eyes as I took what she said in. Children weren’t supposed to be used to their mothers going away for weeks on end. They were supposed to be bowling their eyes out and begging their mothers to stay, or to take them with them.

I pulled her into our hug. I knew she was sad too, and no poorly concealed act was going to convince me otherwise. Soon enough she was crying as well, her little body shaking along with Margot's. I whispered into their ears, ‘’I’ll fix it.’’ I didn’t know how I was going to fix it, but I was going to figure it out. If I was too small to fix it, I’d just get bigger. I had to. That’s what my dad taught me.

Eventually they both fell asleep, and I took off my glasses.

. . .

‘’All I’m saying is you could ask for someone else to go,’’ I handed her the mug.

She rubbed her four-head, ‘’I’ve already told you. You don’t turn Cassy Lane down. If she gives you a job, you consider yourself lucky.’’

I bit down the argument that always came to mind when we discussed her work. She wasn’t in the head space to hear logic. She just wanted to chew my ear, and if that meant she would be more logical later, I could wait and let her vent.

I folded my hands, ‘’Cassy, that’s the new director at your form, right?’’

Margot nodded as she sipped her coffee, ‘’She was enrolled last year.’’

I dug my fingernails into my palm as I struggled to remain neutral, ‘’Wasn’t that the week before Summer’s birthday?’’

Margot swallowed, ‘’Mhm.’’

I didn’t consider myself a violent man, but sometimes I really wanted to throw a brick at Cassy. An unpopular thing for a man to say, I know.

Collecting myself, I asked, ‘’She has a bunch of other photographers, right?’’

Margot frowned, ‘’Chuck, if you’re about to suggest that I tell her to pick another photograph, think carefully.’’

Smoothing out my anger, I raised my hands in surrender, ‘’I wasn’t going to go there. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt over the past year, it’s that Cassy Lane can’t be reasoned with. By anyone.’’

Margot grimaced, ‘’That’s right.’’

Choosing my next words carefully, I asked, ‘’So when do you leave?’’

She sucked in a breath, ‘’Day after tomorrow.’’

‘’Do you need any help fighting with the airport?’’

She laughed dryly, ‘’No, you just stick to your textbooks and guns,’’ she paused, ‘’The Gibsons offered to babysit Summer during the week from twelve to five while I’m gone.’’

I really wished I could take care of Summer myself, but my job as a cop and studies to be a doctor only enabled me to spend three hours at best with her. But what else could I do? I needed to provide for my family, and the way the economy looked, I wouldn’t be able to do that for long with a cop's salary. For the sake of my pride, I asked, ‘’Maybe we should hire a sitter.’’

Margot shook her head, ‘’I don’t feel like looking for one right now. Not until this trip is over.’’

I rubbed her back, right in the spot she always carried the most tension, ‘’I could do it.’’

She lifted an eyebrow.

I raised my hands, ‘’Okay, fare point.’’

She rested her head on my shoulder, ‘’Just don’t let her or yourself die, okay?’’

I kissed the top of her head, ‘’Okay.’’

One year later...

I buckled Summer’s seatbelt and climbed out of the back seat. Before I could close the door though, Summer tugged on my jacket. I looked down at her, ‘’Is something wrong Sums?’’

She looked at me dead in the eyes and asked, ‘’We’re not going to crash, right? You're not going to die?’’

I turned and looked at Margot, whose face I’m sure mirrored my shock. I turned back to her, ‘’No, I’m going to be fine. We’re going to be fine. Why do you ask?’’

She frowned and started nervously twiddling her thumbs, ‘’I don’t know. M’ just askin’.’’

Again, I wondered if it was a good idea to explain why we couldn’t see my mother anymore. Explaining the concept of life and death to a kid as young as Summer might not have been my best of ideas, but what else was I supposed to do?

Margot squeezed herself into the car, ‘’Are you okay Summer?’’

Summer looked up at her with watery eyes, ‘’No dying?’’

Margot shook her head and wrapped Summer up in her arms, ‘’No dying. Daddy and I aren’t going to die,’’ she looked back at me and gestured for me to get into the other passenger seat.

Once I was squeezed in, I started working through her hair, ‘’No dying, not today.’’

Summer bit her lip, ‘’Promise?’’

My throat clenched, ‘’I can’t promise that, but mommy and I will do our best not to die. Okay?’’

Summer sniffed and then nodded her head, ‘’Okay.’’

Margot got out of the car, and I got into the driver's seat. While I was strapping myself in, Margot leaned against the open window, ‘’Keep an eye on her.’’

I nodded, ‘’Of course, see you tonight,’’ after giving her a peck on the cheek, we were off.

As I drove through town to Summer’s preschool, I kept checking on her with the mirror. Maybe she was sick? Or hurt? Did she think she was going to die and just masked that by asking about myself and Margot. Had I been neglectful? I was literally training and studying to be a doctor, if there was really something wrong with her, I should’ve picked it up by now.

She caught my eye and stuck out her tongue, ‘’It’s rude to stare.’’

I chuckled, more for her benefit than my own, ‘’Right, sorry.’’

She battled to cross her arms, then frowned, ‘’You should ask for my forgiveness.’’

I looked back at the road, ‘’You’re right. Summer, will you please forgive me?’’

Summer hummed in thought, ‘’Okay. I forgive you.’’

I glance back at her, ‘’Thank you.’’

Summer tried and failed to stop her giggles.

I smile as I turn back to the road.

Soon enough, we were at her preschool, and I was hugging her goodbye. I kneel in front her and hold her gently by the shoulders, letting her look down at me, ‘’Are you ready for this? you don’t need a day off?’’

She shook her head, ‘’No. Besides, Ari’s going to be there. He’ll take care of me till you fetch me.’’

I ruffled her hair, ‘’Okay. But if you change your mind, just ask your teacher to call me or mommy.’’

She nodded absently, already shrugging my hands off, ‘’Okay. I love you,’’ she kisses my four-head and runs off backwards, waving at me.

I wave and smile after her. Getting off the pavement and dusting off my pants, I ignored the disapproving looks from the other parents and got into my car.

Turning the keys and pressing the clutch, I reversed out of the parking lot. That’s when it hit me. I was waving goodbye to my little girl, hoping that she was okay, when a car crashed into the back of my pickup.

I thought I was fine at first. I could talk, I could see, I could smell, I could feel the leather under my four-head, and I could taste the blood after biting my tongue. I could still move; I knew that because I could lift my head and check if Summer was running towards me or not. She wasn’t. Thank everything good in the world that she hadn’t seen me. She made it inside in time. She didn’t have to see her daddy hurt.

Someone outside my car was screaming for an ambulance. At least I thought someone was screaming to get an ambulance until I realized I was the one screaming, my throat turning to sandpaper. I was much worse off than I initially thought. I wanted to examine myself, I really did. But wait, why couldn’t I breathe? What was happening to me? I shouldn’t be hurt. I had to protect Summer and Margot. I had to be bigger than this. I had to, I had to... I can’t think... I, I think I’m going to black out. I can’t die. If I'm losing consciousness, I better only be blacking out. I’m only blacking out. I’ll wake up, I will. I promise. I’m coming back Summer. I promise. I’ll always come back. Because I'll always be big enough. Just wait, okay Sums?

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livesandjournalsofdeadocs · 6 months

Text

Death is quite a sudden thing for one to experience. A body laid in the low light of the complex, exhausted and blue. Someone had come to check if he was still alive or not. He was not. Death didn’t come quick enough for him.

The foreman had forbidden any of them from leaving over the course of a few hellish days, as work quotas seem to rise impossibly higher. As a result, many had died from exhaustion, breathing in toxic exhaust, and oxygen depletion. It was death by a thousand cuts.

#my oc stuff #my fanart #my writing #frostpunkocs #frostpunk #frostpunk2 #oc death #lol #New London

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phantommn1969 · 1 month

Text

I keep seeing ppl talk about danganronpa protags I wanna talk about my au protag maki (not harukawa)

she's literally A "main character syndrome", manic pixie dream girl, "Rawr X333!!" 16 year old girl who's deeply insecure about being average. She goes out of her way t9 be strange and "omg Maki I can't take you anywhere 😭😭😭 ur so crazyyy🤪🤪" despite honesty being pretty normal.

She kinda embodies a lot of the characters arcs in my au of self acceptance vs self hatred.

For example,

the first kill; appearance based jealousy

Second kill; not rlly figured out yet but hatred of the past

The double kill; snapping after never being able to be who you want to. And killing 2 people who are comfortable in their skin,

Fourth kill; being unable to accept that your friend may be the mastermind / betrayal from a close friend

(she wasn't mastermind ... in one of the endings)

This is slightly unrelated bc of the technical representation of these ocs.... buy yeah

Then the survivors

1; coming to terms with the fact the person you risked everything to save and based ur whole personality around is gone and you can't say goodbye. Seeing yourself as a person and not an object, there's a lot going on w/ her ig

2; separating yourself from an abusive part of your life and seeing that you don't have to be controlled by someone else. Finally doing what you want and not living by others standards

3; acceptance of the past. Being able to change for the better and making yourself feel more comfortable with who you are

4; not judging your self worth by how others see you. Realizing you'll find love and there's someone out there for you, and you don't have to force people to love you

5; idk robot syndrome ("I wish I was human" ➡️ "I'm actually pretty cool the way I am")

And tge final one is Maki which I said earlier

#oc #danganronpa fangan #danganronpa au #danganronpa ocs #danganronpa oc #original character #character development #character death #oc death #ocs #oc lore

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toeconnoisseursposts · 5 months

Text

Tigger warning: Drowning in one's own blood, mention of exposed lung's, death.

Prydwell looks up at them, the blood pouring out of his mouth, the gaping hole in his chest, his lungs exposed, but he still looks up at them with affection as he laughs, feeling the blood slowly come seep his lungs. He knows he'll drown in his blood, but he can't help but be happy as he, feels their hands on his face. They are trembling, their tears dropping on him, like rain drops on a stormy day their voice like the wind through the trees, a calming sound. as they try to tell him he'll be okay. They'll find a way to save him, they promise, but he only shakes his head.

"Don't cry my dear, for a life where you were there, where you were my friend, my family, there when no one else was. It is a gift that I will always cherish."

Prydwell feels his lungs slowly fill with blood. the end is near and he knew it. he felt the blood slowly drown him. grinning at his friend. He knew he'd see them again in another life maybe where they could've lived peacefully.

"I love you. always know that friend follow your dreams. You deserve it."

Prydwell gurgled out. The blood in his lungs drowning him. He couldn't breathe. His body was in panic mode but he knew the end was soon, so he closed his eyes letting the agony take it's course. After what felt like years of pain. It all came to a halt, the world around him calm and dark like a rest on a cool breezy summer night, the warmth of his dear friend holding him making him feel safe, even as he dies.

He felt at peace for the first time in his life.

He was happy, truly happy.

An: Felt silly I'm going back to bed now

#im okay by the way #i just listened to a sad song and wanted to see my favorite oc suffer #oc writing #blood tw #death tw #Prydwell my oc #being silly #and writing my oc dieing #oc #oc death #not canon #he won't die #(or will he?)

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baldursgate3gayz · 3 months

Text

I hate the god you pretend to be (but love the man I know you are)

Trigger warning: Death

‘It was strange.’ Gale thought.

Gale had dreamed of the Outer Plane for a long time. His yearning to be where the gods were, to sit where they ruled, was what drove him for a long time. The dumbest mistake of his life happened because of his desire for that power and made him a literal bomb. Gale's Folly, he had once called it.

Even with that, his dream never faltered, and in the end, he did it. He was a part of the gods, living in the Outer Plane and amongst the stars. Yet, something was missing, a part of him that felt empty since he made himself a god. It had been easy to ignore at first when he gained godhood; the thrill of his power overshadowed everything else he felt, but…

Time went on, but that emptiness remained aching and sad. The god knew what could fill it, the one man in all the planes that could soothe the void in his chest. 'It's almost funny to think about it that way.' Gale thought bitterly. When he met Tharan, he had an emotional and magical hole in his chest left by Mystra, and foolish Gale thought that was heartbreak.

Here, though, among the stars in the Outer Plane, the hole in his chest felt like true heartbreak.

"Gale."

The god jumped from his thoughts as the quiet voice spoke his name.

A voice he knew.

"Gale." He repeated.

Gale's heart jumped to his throat. There was only one reason he could hear the voice so clearly while in the Outer Plane.

"Gale, come to me… Please."

Tharan was praying to him.

In a hurry, the god used his magic to trace where Tharan was. With a flourish of his power, Gal opened his eyes to see, illuminated by moonlight, Tharan standing before him with a smile. It felt as if it had been centuries since Gale had seen that smile.

"Tharan," He breathed.

"Hello, Gale," The sorcerer whispered, his smile widening.

The god almost didn't want to move, worried he'd break this still moment, but he just couldn't hold himself back. He took a step forward, and to his surprise, the half-drow stepped closer. 'Is this…? Is he finally?' Gale wondered excitedly, only more hopeful as the other man smiled at him. Those mismatched eyes looking at him, the god was excited to see them infused with the Weave, brimming with power. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to shower the half-drow in praise and gush about what would come next for them, but the sorcerer spoke first.

"If you had told me that I'd chose to come back here in this moment, I'd have called you crazy," The smile Tharan had was nostalgic, though Gale was confused about what he was talking about. "I would have never thought this place would bring me comfort; some of my darkest days during our adventure were here, in the beginning. With so many unknowns and fears," The half-drow spoke with reverence as he glanced around before looking back at Gale. The confusion must've been written all over the god's face as the sorcerer gave a soft but hearty laugh. "Oh, Gale, look around you. I know you know where we are."

Reluctantly, the god looked away from Tharan and focused on the place they were in. It was a small clearing next to a river with forest surrounding it. There were boulders littered about, a badly decaying training summy, evidence of embers embedded into the ground around the spot, and very decrypt ruins. Gale's heart stirred as he looked closer to the ruins. He knew them.

He took a few steps toward the center of the clearing. His mind flashed with fair-off, blurry memories. He could hear the grind of Lae'zel's sword against her grinding wheel, he could smell the sweet, tart wine that Shadowheart had a cup of every night, he could see the burning of Karlach's engine that always burned bright, he could taste that awful beer that Wyll would share with him on those more challenging nights, and he could feel the cool touch of Astarion's fingers when the vampire gave him a smack at dinner for something he said.

Their first camp… This was where they all first met, started their adventure, and began their journey together. Everyone had changed so much from the people they were when they first settled here. The start of all of their journeys that would change them, each and every single one of them. But there was more than that. This was where it all started for Gale when he began to fall in love with Tharan.

When they shared a moment in the Weave, the wizard became aware of his feelings. By that point, the sorcerer had already had Gale under his spell, and when the half-drow imagined a kiss between them, the dam had broken. From there, the wizard spiraled. He couldn't stop thinking about that imaginary kiss and started picking up on more things about Tharan that made his heart soar. His one-sided dimple, the way he would slowly blink when someone was telling him something personal to show he was listening, how elegantly he'd cast magic with such gentle hand gestures, the way he'd laugh so freely and those moments he would catch Gale staring at him and then smile at him as if he was the only other person in the world. By the tiefling party, Gale was in love.

When he had to deny the half-drown that night through awkward ramblings about the orb, he expected some kind of adverse reaction. Yet, Tharan so sweetly nodded with understanding and leaned close, kissing the wizard's cheek tenderly. "I can wait." He said as he walked away. The way Gale's heart had thumped in his chest, how his head became fuzzy with glee, and how his insides flipped, that was when he realized.

"You had my heart even then." The god said, back in the present. His eyes didn't leave the spot where his tent was when Tharan spoke. "And you had mine." His voice was soft. "To think I would wait so long to do something," Gale mused somewhat bitterly. There was a moment of silence before the other man spoke again. "And I would have waited longer if you had needed me to." This time, the god noticed a weakness in the sorcerer's voice. He spun around to see Tharan leaning against a tree, slowly sinking down the trunk to sit. With a panic gasp of the half-drow's name, Gale rushed to his side, kneeling next to him. "Hells Tharan! What's happening? What's wrong?" Confusion and worry made the god choke on his words. He cradled the sorcerer's face to get him to look up at Gale. His eyes were half-lidded, and it took the half-drow and moment to focus on the other man.

When he finally did, a sad smile came to his face.

"Gale," He whispered, weak and pained.

The god searched for any indication of what was wrong. The man's skin was greyer when it was usually icy blue, his face was gault as his cheekbones stuck out sharply, and the bags under his eyes were nearly black with how deep they were. A frail hand wrapped around Gale's wrist, the notches in his fingers so pronounced. Gale wondered about when they gotten so skinny. The sorcerer's hair was different, too; it used to be stark white, but now there were thick, dark patches of grey at his temple. The god looked at the entirety of Tharan's face, the way it was frail and aged.

The realization slid down his spine as if it were ice-cold water.

"No," He whispered, panic filling his chest. "No, no, no, no, no," He repeated over and over as he got closer to the other man.

Tharan was dying. He was dying of old age, and Gale hadn't even noticed. How much time had passed? How many years to where Tharan was old, so much older? The god had only seen him a few times since they parted; there was no possible way it had been so long. Gale would've noticed sooner; he would have known if so much time had passed. He would have never let this happen, see Tharan so little, try and convince him to join the god so few times.

None of it mattered; he could save the sorcerer now, and all will be better. This will be a distant memory.

"Tharan," Gale looked into the eyes, staring up at him. "Let me save you and make you a god, and we can be together, Tharan, please." His voice trembled as he begged. He watched as the half-drow blinked ever so slowly. There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other.

"Sit with me," The sorcerer whispered.

"No, Tharan, please! I can save you, I can-"

"Please, Gale, sit with me,"

The god's hands trembled as he pulled them away, shifting so he'd sit next to the half-drow, their hips touching. He fought off a sob when Tharan's arm slid beneath his and intertwined his weak hand with Gale's. The god could feel just how thin and bony they'd become. A tear fell down his cheek when the sorcerer rested his head on Gale's shoulder. Being this close, the god could feel the wild magic that always thrummed in Tharan pulse weakly.

"I never wanted to be a god," The half-drow said breathily. "I never wanted immortality; I never wanted to be worshipped," Gale swallowed against the thick lump in his throat as Tharan spoke. "That's why I always said no, I didn't and don't want that," There was a long pause.

"Death will be a mercy." He whispered.

This time, Gale couldn't stop the sob from his lips.

"Tharan-"

"Hush, my love. Please don't cry." Tharan whispered, dragging his knuckles across the man's cheek.

The god bit down on his lip. His body shook as he fought against his tears. There was a weak squeeze from Tharan's hand.

"I will die content though, knowing you got what you wanted and are happy."

"I don't want you to be content," The god choked out. "I want you to be happy."

There was another long pause. Gale could feel the wild magic getting weaker.

"I would've been happy if I got to wake up next to you every morning," The half-drow's voice sounded so weak to Gale. "I would have been happy if I got to have dinners with you and Tara, if I got to watch you in your library reading by the evening light, if I got to cook meals for our friends with you, if I got to walk the streets of Waterdeep with your hand in mine if I got to see your grey hair grow longer, see you laughter lines deepen and if I got to see how time changed us together," Tharan took in a shallow breath. "That's what I would have needed to be happy."

Tears were freely flowing down the god's cheeks. How foolish he felt, how unbelievably stupid he was. The pain he had felt in his chest ached more with every word his beloved said. How could he have ever thought being a god, living among the stars, could compare to Tharan and the life they could have had? Why did he not listen to Tharan? How did he let a moment of fascination with power cost him a future with the man he loved? That decision led to this moment, with Tharan dying on his shoulder.

"But know this, Gale Dekarious, knowing you are happy means I'm dying content, and that's more than enough for me."

But he wasn't happy.

Gale couldn't fool himself anymore, and now, with Tharan dying on his shoulder, he realized the actual weight of his mistake.

"I love you." Tharan breathed.

It was so quiet the wild magic was nearly faded.

"I…" The god couldn't find words.

Then, the magic faded to nothing, the weak grip of Tharan's hand relaxed, and his head dropped more into Gale's shoulder as Tharan let out a shaky breath.

The world stopped.

Gale froze, waiting for the flicker of magic, a soft breath of life.

This couldn't be it. He had to have more time, just a little more time.

Tharan remained still. The magic had not returned.

"I made a mistake," Gale said, too late.

Tears fell from his eyes as he held the half-drow's hand. He squeezed and waited for something in return, any sign that he wasn't gone yet.

Again, Tharan did not move.

Gale's throat ran dry as pained sobs fell from his lips.

The silence around them was deafening.

The foolish god closed his eyes and turned his head to place a kiss on Tharan's forehead.

"I'm sorry, I will fix this." He whispered through the tears.

And he promised it, over and over, to his beloved who laid still next to him.

There, the wizard and sorcerer stayed, side by side, as the wizard repeated the promise while the sorcerer laid still, content.

----

So this is the ending of a bigger fic I have published on AO3 that you can find here if you'd like to read the other parts but I'm not the biggest fan of the whole thing so I just wanted to post the end.

I have not actually ascended Gale to Godhood so idk what it's actually like but I don't want it spoiled because I'm going to do it eventually (I still haven't even finished the game lol) I just love writing angst :D

I am currently rewriting this final interaction to be more like what I really think Tharan would react which is much more angry and sarcastic and dramatic but I really do like this specific piece so I'm keeping it up.

Edit: Here is the link to the angry ending!!

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