fighting writers block like its a beholder

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Dazai couldn’t stand fluorescent lights anymore. They were too bright. Too fake. Too reminiscent of those yellow halls. He leaned his face into his hands, resting his elbows on the table, so he wouldn’t have to see their light anymore. He couldn’t escape the hum but it was better than nothing. There were only two good things that came with him out of those halls. The first is heightened senses. He could hear footsteps in the hall and could smell the lingering cigarette smoke of the last guy sitting in his chair. If he would open his eyes, though, he’d still be half-blind. The second good thing was only memories.

He could hear someone walking towards the door before their hand was even on the handle. Then, he listened to it turn, listened to the lock click out of place, and then listened as the investigator entered. The man quietly closed the door and locked it again before coming to sit across from him and placing two files on the table.

“So, you’re Dazai?”

He didn’t respond. He was tired of responding. He just wanted answers and wanted to go so he could either find him or jump off the nearest bridge.

“My name is Jouno. I work for the Japanese government, specifically, the special cases division.”

He still didn’t respond.

“Dazai, you’re going to need to respond sooner or later. The longer we sit here with you silent and me talking, the longer you’ll be detained.”

Jouno was met with silence.

The agent sighed and opened the file, “The record of your return says you came back, returned immediately to your desk, and began frantically asking your partner for help finding the file on a missing person, a man by the name of-”

“Don’t say his name.”

Jouno stopped, “So you do speak.”

Dazai was quiet again.

So Jouno continued, “Upon learning the fate of your missing person, you proceeded to enter an even more frantic state, saying, quote, ‘There’s no way I made it back and he didn’t.’ Can you elaborate on that?”

“No. I won’t elaborate on anything. I want an explanation and I want to leave.”

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation you are in at your present moment, Dazai.”

His hands dropped away from his face and slammed against the table, “I understand damn well the ‘gravity of the situation’! I simply don’t care anymore.”

Jouno was quiet. Dazai was looking at him now and the agent was realizing the pictures did nothing to represent the scar etched across the face of the man before him. A deep gash ran from his forehead, through his right eye, and just below his right ear. He’d seen Dazai when he was being processed and there had been bandages wrapped over the damage but now it was on full display.

“I want to leave.”

“So you can kill yourself and we can lose the only person to go to the last dimension and survive?”

“Precisely.”

Jouno sighed. Dazai was not going to talk easily so it was time to present him with the compromise the government was willing to offer him.

“I’m not here just to ask you the same questions,” he starts, “I’m here because the higher-ups want to offer you a deal.”

Dazai stayed silent, staring at him.

“If you answer every question completely and allow us to run our tests, we are prepared to offer you two things in return.”

“Which are?”

“Government assisted suicide.”

Dazai was silently shocked. They were willing to let him go for a few answers? They must truly be desperate for any crumbs of information they can get on this place.

“You answer everything truthfully and submit to testing, we will provide you with a peaceful and painless walk into the afterlife.”

There was silence for a moment. Euthanization in exchange for his cooperation.

“What’s the second thing?” Dazai asked, crossing his arms.

Jouno moved the top file to show him the label on the bottom file, “The full government file and findings on the disappearance and death of Nakahara Chuuya.”

This was the first time Jouno had seen him react to something with an emotion besides anger. This time he watched as Dazai visibly softened looking at the file like his mind had melted at the idea of answers.

“Do we have your cooperation?”

The other man stiffened again.

“Yes.”

“Good,” Jouno said, looking up at a camera in the corner of the room and nodding, giving them confirmation.

The cameras were just for security but, once subject consent was received, they were also used for audio recording.

“Start at the beginning for us. How do you remember entering dimension zero?”

The fic idea mainly focuses on Gale & Astarion, but with the specific characters they’d be playing in this Avengers au, I know writing Gale is going to be a bit of a challenge. I usually lean into the suave, soft, but clever Gale, so writing the more egotistical Gale is pretty rare for me.

All that said, I want to share this little character oneshot with the crowd to test the interest of the internet in the au and also to open the floor to feedback on if this feels out of character.

This particular scene likely wouldn’t be a full chapter in the fic, rather a short flashback, or it might not even make the cut at all, but I wanted to write a scene to figure out where Gale would be starting from.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: this scene is between Gale and Mystra and contains the expected level of tension & divorce style fighting, but this scene also contains a small amount of abuse both physical and emotional.

Okay NOW on with the show…

{— ⋆｡°𖤓°｡⋆ —}

“Son of a bitch!” Gale snatches his hand away with a curse as a zap of electricity runs up his arm.

The gauntlet he’s messing with drops against the metal table with a clang and he watches the miniscule progress he’s made flicker and die. He groans, shaking the tingling from his fingers and stepping back. The clock on the wall glows at him, taunting. Ten and a half hours he’s been down here, trapped at his own work station. Somewhere upstairs Mystra is probably pissed off. She always is when Gale disappears down here. He can’t stop now, though, not when he’s so close.

“Sir,” Gale jumps at the voice, sleep deprivation obviously taking a toll on his mind, “I must advise you to get some sleep. You’ve been awake for over thirty-six hours, seventy-five percent of that has been spent in this room, and it is becoming a health concern.”

Running a soot covered hand through his already disgusting hair, Gale shakes his head, “I have to finish this.”

“Then, I must also advise you that your wife is becoming impatient. She wishes for me to inform you that she will not go to bed until you leave this room.”

He’s looking at the machinery in near defeat, body too exhausted to even imagine picking up his tools once more. The thought of going to bed seems somehow worse. Having to deal with Mystra’s brewing rage, wash the grime from his skin, and find something to eat, all before confronting the high possibility of a sleepless night, just doesn’t seem worth it.

It’s almost complete, “Tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.”

Azuth falls silent for a moment as Gale picks his soldering iron up once more, determined to make this work.

“She’s coming down.”

He sighs, “Lock the door-”

Too late does the command slip past his lips. He can already hear her stilettos on the stairs.

“Gale Dekarios, you had better be dead or dying.”

He slides his glasses onto his head with one hand, setting his iron down with the other, “Lovely to see you too, my dear.”

Mystra stops at the bottom of the stairs, “What the hell are you still working on that thing for?”

“Passion project.”

“Scrap pieces from a junk pile is more accurate.”

Gale scoffs, “This again?”

She stomps down the last few stairs as she raises her voice, “Yes, this again! Our company is crumbling and you are playing with trash in our basement!”

“Your company,” Gale corrects, pointing a finger at her chest, “Weave has never been mine, you’ve been very clear on that front.”

“Are you seriously on this again?”

He crosses his arms, “The company is only ‘ours’ when it’s convenient for you, and right now, it seems you can’t run it without my work.”

Mystra grits her teeth, looking down at the table behind him, “Well, Gale, unfortunately a tech giant can’t stay afloat without tech to sell.”

“All we’ve sold as of late has been defense weaponry.”

“Our most lucrative products-”

“That I never wanted to make!” Now Gale is yelling, arms thrown out to his sides, gesturing at the unfinished projects strewn about the workshop.

“You wanted to make a difference! Well, Gale, look at the world around you and tell me you haven’t!”

In the ringing silence all they can do is stare each other down until Gale finally looks away, “Did you come down here for something in particular or just to complain about my hobbies?”

“I came to tell you it’s time to come to bed,” her tone is final, more like a stern parent than a concerned spouse.

He sighs, “I’ll be up when I figure out this last piece.”

“No. You’ll come with me now.”

“Mystra-”

“I will not go to bed alone for another night,” she’s practically tapping her foot, “I am your wife, you will not abandon me for your work again.”

He wants to argue. He still can’t look at her. His hesitation must last too long because Mystra turns, silent, and storms back toward the stairs. The electricity once stinging his nerves feels like nothing in comparison to the tension crackling in the air around him.

Deep breath in, and out, again, and again.

Slowly, his anxious heartbeat calms. The trembling in his hands stills as he reaches once more for his soldering iron. She’ll settle down in the morning, and he won’t have to come down here again for some time.

The hammer that suddenly swings down onto the fragile pieces of motherboard and wiring says otherwise. Gale jumps back, nearly burning himself, as Mystra smashes the table again.

“What the fuck,” he’s shouting, shoving her back, “are you doing!”

Mystra drops the tool, fire blazing in her eyes, “Removing your distractions.”

Gale is standing between her and his damaged station, “Are you out of your mind?”

“I am thinking perfectly cl-”

“This is months of work! What the hell is wrong with you?”

She barely lets him get the words out before the slap hits him, “‘What the hell is wrong’ with me? That’s rich coming from the man so pathetic he’s hiding in his workshop from a few bad dreams!”

Gale goes quiet. The feeling of a hand against his skin burns, but not as hot as the metal of his wedding band. Everything suddenly falls into perfect clarity, “Get out of my house.”

Mystra’s mouth hangs open, like the words are stuffing up her throat and she can’t force them out for a moment, until she says, “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means we’re done,” he’s meeting her fire with nothing but icy coldness, “I’ll ship your things.”

“This is my house too!”

“My name is on the lease. My money paid the construction crew,” he slides the ring from his finger and tosses it at her feet, “You can sell that if you want. Clearly it doesn’t mean much.”

She doesn’t look down at the band, just takes a step back to the stairs, “You’ll regret this. You need me-”

“For what?”

“Weave-”

“Why would I need Weave?” His air of indifference barely holds against the way his heart beats overtime, racing with the fear she’ll do something even more irrational, “My money is mine, the company can’t run without my products, and clearly it barely belongs to me anyways.”

She stares him down for a final moment, waiting for his facade to crumble, before storming up the stairs the same way she came down them not ten minutes prior.