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pursuitseternal · 11 months

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“Bites in the Night: Part 3…” Astarion x Reader on the road… with sexy daggers this time ⚔️

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Part 3: “Daggers are a love language, my sweet…”

Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.4k of swords + smut

Summary: You keep watch over your companions, but after the events of the… and after weeks of growing closer with your Vampire Rogue in terms other than sex… you need to burn some of your energy off. A midnight session with your blades seems the solution… especially when you find yourself with… a sparring partner.

Inspired by Careful—ibite’s post and amazing blog! Thank you @careful---ibite !

CW: sword sexual innuendo, getting handedly defeated by Astarion, true feelings confession ™️, NSFW: forest edition, and some bad “sheathing” puns that make Astarion roll his eyes.

Read here if you prefer AO3

Don’t lose your breath on this one, Darling…

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Keeping watch, you sit by the fire, the sound of your companions breathing joins the soft crackles and pops of the fire. Your rotation falls tonight, it’s crisp in the mountains, the pine air is cool, so you stay by the fire, tending it until your watch is done. Keeping the others warm and safe.

Well…. All the others except for Astarion. You watched him slip into the trees an hour ago, one last look thrown you way over his shoulder. Your vampire, heading out to hunt.

Your heart aches, knowing full well just how many long horrors he endured as a spawn. Watching him hide that self doubt behind his swagger, covering his self-loathing behind constant flirtation as smooth as silk. It had been easy to give him the space he had asked for you, to grow in your knowledge of one another, not just carnally.

In fact, it had been weeks. Traveling and fighting, and seeking down cures… and all the while, he had not asked for you to come to his bed again. Of course, he had crept beside yours to feed when you gave him every opportunity, but his touches were light. You scoff to yourself, thinking as you scan the treeline for movement. You would call his attentions almost chaste if it were not for the way he looks at you, undressing you in his mind, and the way his words beckon you with every little flirtatious thought that crosses that same dirty mind.

But you wait. You show him there is more to intimacy than fucking. Every conversation you have, every time you offer for him to feed when he begins to look haphazard and bedraggled, all those little ways you do care.

Grabbing two more logs, you set them in the blaze. Wiping your hands together, you slowly stand, eyeing the rest of your party as they sleep. Blissful for now. Exhausted from the journey and from your latest grisly encounter of the day. Sometimes, you had even seen your own life flash before your eyes, let alone watched in horror as every one of your companions nearly met an end today.

It was a rest well deserved. And you had taken the watch tonight, guilt plaguing you to have put every single one of them in such mortal peril.

Nothing a little self-prescribed training couldn’t fix. Or at least, couldn’t help clear your conscience.

You check your hips, blade on one side, dagger at the other. These weapons were… newly acquired. Well, stolen… well, stolen for you by your Vampire rogue. Thievery seemed to be his love language. But they were unfamiliar at best, their balance, their grip were strange, even if they were stronger and more powerful. And it had almost cost lives today.

You walk towards the forest, sure that the fire would keep burning for a couple hours at least now. The hard scrape of your weapons as you draw them both sets you on edge, wakes you up.

They feel light, lighter than the blades you knew. You give them a spin, the soft handles steady in your palms, trying hard not to fumble them, to catch your fingers on the elegant cross guards. Holding them aloft, you settle yourself on the balls of your toes, readying stance, primed to begin your forms. They flow through you, form after form, swiping and stabbing and parrying. Slowly. Carefully at first.

Then you pick up speed. Swiping faster, sword and dagger more familiar now. You spin on your toes, as if you mean to strike your enemies from behind.

And you jolt as your blade meets another with a clang.

Astarion smirks at you, that twist of his lips and cant of his brows that makes your blood run hot. His dagger shines in the moonlight as he slowly scrapes it down the length of your sword.

“Hello, darling,” he purrs. “I see you took some advice to practice for once.” He pushes your sword to your side, but that sharpened dagger still remains in his hand, his smirk widens as he slowly presses its point beneath your chin.

You laugh, breathless, unable to deny the edge of fear he still manages to incite in you. “Amazing, Astarion,” you try to laugh, feeling his body drawing closer. “You can’t help but shove cold, pointed things in my face even when we aren’t…”

“What?” he smirks wider, clearly enjoying where this is going, “doing the deed?”

Your own smirk turns your mouth, your tongue suddenly wet as you try to swallow. Not as wet as other parts of your grow, however. “Exactly,” you manage to reply the single word steadily.

“Hmm, yes, about that,” he continues, voice suddenly quiet and steady and raw. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you. You are different, you do care. Enough to actually become acquainted with me, to come to know me, more than I do myself it seems.” That veil of seduction slips, his voice cracking a bit as he lowers his dagger from your skin. “Today, watching you almost get vivisected on some enemy spear, however, made me realize many things.”

“Oh?” you breathe. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, hard and throbbing to hear his confessions, and to be reminded of your burning guilt yet again.

“Many things,” he repeats, “the least of which is that you are far too precious to me to watch you die.” His words are filled with ache, his crimson eyes wide and wet as he looks down at you.

Tears? you wonder. It is too dark to really see, but from the way his voice seems to stick in his throat…

But he clears his voice, quickly back to that honeyed tone. “I also realize that you need a sparring partner, training alone will only do you so much good. And since I’m so much better than you…”

You step back, folding your arms across your chest, trying to be exacting. But your back bumps unceremoniously against some pine. And his body closes in to cover you, faster than you can gasp. His hands pin you in, splaying around your shoulders as he pushes into your frame, your back scratched by the peeling bark. But you can’t care. Not with the ecstacy of his body bearing into you, all hard and strong and everywhere.

You sigh, “Gods, I’ve missed this…” the words are out of your mouth before you can even think them.

“Mmm, I have, as well,” his words rasp in your mouth, his lips, his fangs so close again. “Almost losing you today, I realized one more thing, that I would go mad, I would rather die, than to lose you, to live my life alone without your affection, your care… and without that perfect body of yours, darling.”

Molten. Your blood is singing in your veins, your mouth waters and your cunt aches, positively drenching your breeches, you are sure.

Your body writhes, a little unbidden roll of your hips against him as he presses you harder.

“Your dual-wielding requires finesse, darling,” he is insufferable, the way his eyes skate over your face, fixing on the way your veins pulse in your neck. “Shame I only have one weapon you could grip to practice with… guess we will have to do this the old-fashioned way…”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to think of you in terms of….”

“A person can have a change of heart, can’t they?” His voice is like music, lilting and deep. “In fact, I’d like to up the ante, raise the stakes a bit, my dear…”

He withdraws from you, his hands unsheathing two daggers, so sharp you can almost hear them whistle in the air as he grips them with a flourish. A smile plays around his lips, more enticing than fear inducing, though you feel both pounding in your body as you watch him square up to you. “If you win, you get to have me in whatever fashion you so desire, darling. Let your imagination run wild….”

“And if you win?” You force an air of confidence, a swing of your side sword and dagger that mimics his own flare.

But Astarion only laughs, that rapid, low-toned giggle as he grins so wide, you see his fangs in the starlight. “No spoilers, my dear, but I promise you will never forget it…”

“You’re not going to…”

“Kill you? No,” his brows furrow in a rush of hurt. “Weren’t you listening? The only way for me not to personally worry myself into another grave about you is to make sure you are up to snuff with those new blades. Now, put up and shut up….” He breathes, a deep exhale that eases the clenching of his body, “…darling.”

You smile, heart pounding as you take the sight of him in. You remember the way you first met… his dagger at your throat, your body trapped between his legs. And now, the way he sways on his feet, a bit feline and totally predacious. His fingers twitch on the hilts of his elegant blades, his eyes watching you. Daring you. Assessing you.

He waits for you to move first. So you do, you stab, you spin. But every swing of your sword, he deflects, barely moving as he parries you just so easily. There is no way, no way his two short daggers should be able to work the magic he draws from them. They seem part of his body, just as cold and hard, sharper than his tongue.

You try a few more swings, doing your best to catch him off guard. But he always anticipates you. Always blocks you. Steady and unmoving.

Until he begins to press his advantage. You notice the way he begins to lean on his toes, his dodges becoming advances, his parries turning into quick little attacks. And then, you see him smile, brow arching in that rakish way that unsettles your stomach and makes your neck burn where he bites you.

He lunges, his blades everywhere at once. His silver hair whips in the breeze, moving so quickly. You dodge, having to retreat step after step, so you don’t get sliced by more than his fangs. You manage to hook one dagger with yours, a slight twist sends it careening to the forest floor. But it’s all he will allow you as a small victory. He knocks first one blade out of your grip, then the next.

His empty hand grips both of yours, lighting-quick speed flying you back against that same fated tree. He raises your arms above your head, pinned in one large, icy palm, leaving you dangling by his preternatural strength.

But that other hand still holds one weapon, its sharp tip pressing along the line of your jaw.

You pant, unable to catch your breath or cease your racing heart. But he, he stands, cooler than the shade, not even a sweat on his brow. He lets the blade of his dagger score down your skin, careful not to cut. Just the delicious drag of metal to send you panting and writhing.

“It would seem you lost, darling…”

“Have I, though?” you let yourself give in to the feeling of being his prey. Savoring the clenching of his body as he cages you in. “I’m fairly certain by now you just shove daggers at my throat as a way of saying you want me, Astarion…”

“Tch,” he sucks his teeth and cocks his head, eyeing you with deep enjoyment. “Daggers are a love language, my sweet, one of my favorites.” He leans in closer to you, that dangerous blade still pushed gently against your flesh. “When you’ve seduced as many as I have, you learn to use… all… your weapons. But I’ve saved the best for you, my love.”

“Thoughtful of you, my love,” you match his ardor, throwing the same new pet name back between his hovering lips.

“Mmm, best wait to thank me until I’ve finished claiming my victory, since you…” he reaches your hands higher above you head, blade of his dagger slipping like hard silk under your chin, tilting your mouth higher. Closer. “… since you lost, darling.”

“Did I? I’m pretty sure I’ll win, once you’ve… stowed your weapon…”

His eyes flash in humor, a giggle erupting loudly from his throat. “Gods, don’t spoil my winnings with such puns, I plan to have such a good time…”

Your lips flutter, stomach sinking to your knees, pulling on his hand that holds you pinned, raising on the tips of your toes until his blade slips away and your lips crash into his. He releases the dagger, letting clatter at your feet. Unleashing his favorite weapons, his lust and his fangs, and both tear into you. The surge of his hunger pushes into you, his tongue tangling with your, his hands dropping, caressing and massaging your body everywhere. Like he can’t feel you enough. Can’t bring him into his body, his mouth enough to sate him.

Your hands meet his in equal need, your fingers tearing at his doublet, snapping the buttons until Astarion can easily shirk it off. His hands make quick work of his own tunic, and you hold your breath, the moment you see that ivory body, chiseled and hard and perfect. You throb for more. Hand cupping at the back of your neck, he devours you again, lips working yours with demand, your hands wandering up and down the ridges of his stomach. That always hungry stomach. Your hands pull him, all your pent up need igniting to feel his smooth, icy skin against you. You pull your own shirt from your breeches, his hands instantly aiding, making quick work of it, pulling it over your head.

He won’t stop there, instantly ripping into your breeches, tearing them open until you feel his cool touch slipping into your folds. So swollen, so drenched, you shudder, instantly throwing your head back against the tree.

“More,” you pant, sliding your own clothing from your legs.

“If you joke about sheathing my weapon, right now; I swear I’ll bite you…” he growls, hand freed now to work into you all the more.

“You’re going to bite me anyway,” you sigh a laugh, “why not let you stow…”

His mouth stops your words, his fingers crooking and thrusting into your folds, arousal dripping down his knuckles, making other noises come from your throat than less-than-tasteful wordplay.

Your hands shake, fingers trying so hard to free the buckle at his waist, to sneak into the fastened band of his breeches. Fumbling with the clasp, you make him gasp, scoring your nails into his belly.

He hisses into your mouth, “Careful, love, unless you’re so eager to draw my blood. Just as much a danger with your nails as you are your blades…”

You laugh, slow as his hand slips from inside you, giving you the aid you seek with haste. Clothing falls, his cock springs free, prodding against your mound, your belly. His skin is a relief against your flushed body, you crave more. Need more.

He sees it on your face as he looks down at you. “Gods, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, “the glisten of your sweat, the dilation of your eyes and swell of your kissed lips… the only thing missing is a little blood…” his face quirks into that rakish leer, twisting smirk and canting brows. You nod, pulling your own hair from your neck, crying out the moment he bites into you. The intoxicating way you feel him feeding, swallowing down your blood, you bodies joined before he even fucks you. You moan, aching for more of him as he lifts his mouth from your skin.

Hands grasp at your ass, lifting you, and you jump into his arms. He treads to the mossy hills around you, settling you down. Covering you with the weight of his body, the force of his desire that you had craved for so, so long.

You would have it no other way, giving him everything under the stars, finally seeing his eyes fixed into yours as he enters you. At last. His words run dry, mouth far too busy stealing your breath and tongue too occupied dancing with yours to make any sultry remarks.

He is speechless. But the thrusts of his body, the obsessive stare into your eyes, the working of his kiss, it showers you with more praise than any flirtation ever had.

This. This was real. No holding back, no pretense. Just his absolute need to bury himself to his balls in you. To consume your every living breath as if it would give him life again.

He takes his time, making you feel every inch of his massive length dragging through you, in and out. His arms wrap you into him, clinging around your shoulders. And you do the same, hands clutching those mysterious lines of infernal that cover the clenching muscles of his back. You wrap him in your arms, your legs, as if to reassure him you won’t let go. Won’t ever let go. His breathing grows harsh, damp in your mouth. Aching as if a million emotions will burst from his chest. Your hands move to his cheeks, feeling them slightly damp beneath your fingers.

Sweat or tears, you don’t know. You can’t know in this darkness. But he wants it that way. You kiss the damp, salt on your lips as you keep your mouth there. Hands cradling his face as he still draws himself in and out.

You breathe his name, your hands caressing into those silver silken locks… “Astarion…”

Something between you shifts he lifts his head, mouth devouring yours, hands wandering from that hard embrace to cling to your ass, holding you as his thrusts suddenly pick up speed, hammering into you with all the precision and force of his fighting. You can feel him winding tight like a spring, bearing into you with hunger. Single focused need. As if you are the last morsel between him and starvation.

He grunts with each thrust, your own wave of climax swirling through you, driven higher with his pounding. The slaps of his body against yours echo in your ears, his voice silken even as he curses, “Gods below, so tight, so wet… so good…”

You shatter with his praise, tumbling in a writhing stuttering, wet mess as you come. His head thrown back, face blissfully contorted, he follows you into his own. Hardest yet, he slams into you, collapsing against your body on the forest floor.

His head nestles into the crook of your shoulder, blood still seeping. And you don’t fail to notice that his tongue licks you slowly.

“Well, handsome victor,” you tease, “enjoy your prize?”

He props himself up from you slightly, his eyes even smirking as he smiles. A little swivel of his hips drags his still hard cock through the mingling juices of you both. “Enjoy it? Yes, very much, my love. But I am hardly satisfied…” He giggles in that bubbly way of his, pulling out and pulling you to your feet. “I think it requires closer inspection in my tent…”

He doesn’t stop to collect your clothes or your weapons, no. His strength is tenfold with all your blood inside him as he bends down to throw you over his shoulder. You give a muffled yelp, one he corrects with a slight slap on your rear as you dangle down his back.

“Prizes don’t need to draw so much attention to themselves, darling…” He carries you, your body swaying over his shoulder like some good he pinched, coming closer and closer to the circle of light from your camp.

“Attention? I was on watch, Astarion,” you growl, mortified as you realize what you abandoned.

“Not anymore,” you hear a sleepy voice from behind you. Gale clears his throat louder as he does not approach you, your naked vampire rogue drawing nearer to his own tent. “You’re both off the watch rotation until you can practice some self control.” He sounds grumpy, but you don’t care as Astarion swings you around.

“I’ll be much obliged to you, wizard,” he taunts, running a hand over the pert swell of your ass “Might take some time you know…. Practice does make perfect…”

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galedekarios · 11 months

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Hi!! Hope I am not bothering you (if so please feel free to ignore!) with a Gale lore question, but I figured you're the person on tumblr who would most likely know given all the cool shit you've been posting, but do we have any idea *where* gale was when he got snatched by the mindflayers? I can't seem to find a straight answer about most of the companions, but there seems to be a fairly straight forward answer for most of them except Gale (and Astarion to some extent) I know he had his year of solitude that he seemed to have left willingly and from what Tara says about Waterdeep it doesnt seem like they had a massive nautiloid attack the city a la the opening. I figured he either left Waterdeep in search of more items to sate the orb/protect the city in case of rupturing and was taken there or he was just maybe beaten over the head and abducted in the city by one of the few Absolutists that are in Waterdeep.

thank you for your message! i really appreciate your words.

sadly, there is no indication at all where precisely gale was before the events of the game take place.

i've collected some pieces of the puzzle, however, that i thought are relevant to at least paint a broad picture of what likely happened:

gale is well aware of how unstable the orb is. when he escapes the nautiloid, his first thought is that the illithid tadpole is very likely to have adverse effects on it:

he has lived with the orb for about a year or longer, knowing well what its effect might be. i have wondered often just why gale would know so much about ceremorphosis before the game starts. perhaps the devs just needed another exposition machine, which is likely, too, of course.

but considering the very real and very present danger of the orb, i think it's also likely that in his desperation to find a way to heal himself, reading up as much as he could on everything that even resembled some sort of solution, gale perhaps even read up on ceremorphosis, before deciding that it's just not viable, that it would do more harm to than good.

i think it might be in line with the same reasoning as to why the player can bring up the nightsong to gale as a possible solution to the orb.

2. gale is aware just catastrophic the consequences of the orb being unleashed are. when gale goes to rest in his origin playthrough, sleep will not find him and once more, his thoughts turn towards the orb first:

it's likely that this is why we find him staring into the flames playing a custom protag. these two scenes seem to mirror each other.

3. we also learn from the same dialogue two important things: that gale made tara promise to stay in waterdeep, concerned for her safety. we also learn from his conversation with tara that he is not only concerned about her safety, but his mother's as well and that he left her behind in waterdeep as well:

morena isn't aware of what her son tried to do. he kept it from her. not only had he disappointed her faith in him and his talents, now, with the orb, he was actively putting her in mortal peril. along with everyone else in the city.

from a later dialogue we also learn that gale is afraid of bringing shame to his family name:

player: So, your last name is Dekarios? gale: It is. Courtesy of my mother, the inimitable, dare I say it sometimes unavoidable, Morena Dekarios. It's been so long since I've used it. 'Gale Dekarios' cuts a poor figure next to the wizarding prowess of 'Gale of Waterdeep.' player: You're right. Just 'Gale' is better. gale: I agree. And on the plus side, if I get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

we also learn that while news of the absolute seems to have reached waterdeep, tara doesn't seem to think that they have infiltrated waterdeep yet. which in turn means that waterdeep wasn't affected in the same way baldur's gate and other cities and regions were.

4. the next morning, gale can have the following conversation with tara:

"you left the tower in such a hurry you didn't leave an address." is what stands out to me here.

what exactly did make gale leave so suddenly?

was it a particularly bad flare-up of the orb? i think it might be likely because i also found this line in the files:

player: i fail to see why you need me to help you this. you've done fine without me so far. gale: A fair point - however, until recently I was able to rely on a supply of artefacts stored in my tower in Waterdeep. A supply that has now run dry. The reality of the matter is that a lone wizard with a chronic impairment such as my own is not in the most ideal of situations with regards to self-defence. The manner of artefacts I need are not often found waiting patiently on a shop-keep's shelf. One usually has to lift them delicately from trap-filled tombs or prise them from the hands of violent ne'erdowells.

so not only does this validate the fact that gale indeed suffers from chronic pain due to his condition even more, it also clearly states that he had nothing left in his possession to treat his condition anymore.

(as an aside, larian really did the seriousness of his condition a grave disservice here on a multitude at levels and this is another point where the narrative is at odds with the game mechanics of the full release. in ea, it truly required great artefacts (the sword of justice blessed by tyr or even the idol of silvanus) to soothe the orb.)

so to bring all of these points together, this is what i believe:

i think gale left waterdeep in a hurry after he felt the orb destabilising.

having no artefacts great power left, staying was no longer an option, lest he puts his mother (and waterdeep itself even) at great risk. he hurriedly packed what he could.

i assume tara was there and that it was then that he made her promise to stay because he didn't want to put his longest (and now only) friend at risk, too. perhaps he also felt better knowing that tara would be there for morena.

i think he was abducted while on the road, trying to find information about artefacts of great power and perhaps even setting out himself to acquire them.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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golden-headband · 3 months

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ESAU Red Son x reader experiencing shark week.

ESAU belongs to @emelinstriker (also thank you for suggesting the shark week name.)

Red Son finished the last touch on Masters favorite treat, turning to them and watching how they finally revealed their face buried in the counter at the clink of the plate. A uneasy but genuine smile on their face. "Thank you. You're my hero." Came their tired voice. Much more cheery than before. Easing the Red Champion.

Red Son spotted Macaque peering into the kitchen. Wukongs head just above his. His blank but slightly worried expression contrasting Macaques near-to-tears look.

"Is Master okay?" The Purple champion asked.

"Im better." They sighed, somewhat more contently than before. A small smile on their face already easing the champions. They had asked Macaque to give them space while they let the painkillers kick in. But it was eating their comfort food that was helping the most. And they seemed a bit self conscious about how they ate during this time. Like they were worried any of it would get on the champions if they got too close. Did they think themselves a messy eater? Not that any of them would have minded.

"Have you tried putting something warm on where it hurts?" Came Wukongs calm voice. But those who have known him could trace the concern for their Master.

"Mm. I have my hand on it." Their Master responded. But Red Son could hear the nervous twitch of Macaques tail.

"Is Master going to be okay?" Turning, he saw MKs usual blank stare shifting to concern as he poked his head out from the left side of the door opposite to the two monkeys. Then came Nezhas’ hand reassuringly ruffling MKs hair as he walked by. "Master will be alright. They know themselves enough to tell us if they need anything." The Pink champion assured him. Red Son spotted the way Wukong turned and looked at Nezha before he approached their Master. "You took the pain medicine over an hour ago, and you still look like you have discomfort. How long does it usually take for them to take effect?"

"Mm. If I distract myself then... An hour or two?" Their Master mumbled, hiding themselves behind their hand as they tried cleaning up their face. Maybe they felt self conscious in front of them? "I really am feeling better, I just... Dont want to move right now."

"Would it helped if you lied down?" Red Son offered.

"That would just keep the blood from flowing down." Red Son winced. He still remembered that morning, how quickly Macaque went from talking teasing Nezha to turning his head in the direction of their Master before diving into a portal. Nezha quickly went to their master and before Red Son could do anything, MK tugged on his cape and asked what a star meant on their Masters calendar the previous month.

Whatever panic was in him then had immediately drained. Macaque and Nezha looked like their Master was in mortal Peril. The prior had an expression like he had smelled their Masters Blood. Now Red Son knew why.

Ever since then, Red Son had been baking up chocolate treats and anything that he noted their Master had praised as their comfort food. And their Master kept an eye on the clock for when to take pain killers. Their usual schedule had been as soon as they woke up, around noon. And right before bed.

The other Champiosn offered other tips their previous masters had tried during this time. (The ones who experienced this endurance at least) and while Master looked like they were considering some, they didnt look like they were ready to explore anything then. "Thank you but, I think I just need to relax."

No matter how many times they experienced this, they always felt absolutely helpless for their master in these moments.

It didn’t help that it had been so hot they didnt even want to cuddle anyone. And Red Son could clearly see the effects that was having on Macaque.

Master opened their eyes and saw the line of worried faces surrounding them. Macaque and MK peering over the counter, Red Son across from them, and Wukong and Nezha standing nearby. They let out a soft sigh before sitting up. "Really though. Thank you guys. I appreciate it. I really do." And they could feel you were telling the truth. "Hey. Macaque. Why dont you share one of your stories? I get lost in the way your shadows move. I think it might distract me." Macaques face immediately lit up. And he began making preparations.

They all eventually found themselves with the Master sitting in the middle, MK laying his head on their lap and earning pets while Wukong sat beside them, his cloak placed over them, watching Macaque while Red Son found himself laying his head next to MK. Evidently. Their master had memories of family members laying on their lap. This soothed them.

And Red Son knew this was close to where their pain was. He could tell just laying here, their Masters pain was subsiding. Red Son closed his eyes contently as Macaques shadows changed the scene in a beautiful way. Enjoying this closeness.

"Nezha.” Came their Masters voice, much softer this time, no pain or discomfort. “You know you can enjoy this with us right?" He heard Master call, knowing they were smiling to the Pink Champion they had been wanting to loosen up a little more. The red champion opened his eyes to see the Pink Champion hesitate in entering the room. But eventually did. And Red Son knew their master was holding his hand thankfully. And he very much knew Nezha was happy.

Each champion had a moment of feeling their Masters hand. Petting MK, petting Red Son, squeezing Wukongs hand, and holding Nezhas.

By the end of Macaques play, Master had praised him happily. And Red Son didn’t have much time to move when the Purple champion last and nuzzled into their Master, nearly crushing him in the process.

#emelinstriker #lmk esau #eternal servants au #esau x reader #red son x reader #esau macaque #esau wukong #esau mk #esau nezha #this ended up being longer than i meant #oh well i need more practice #okay yeah everyone is here but red son is the main focus here #or was supposed to be #ended up being all over the place #maybe I could make a part two…

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underdark-dreams · 1 year

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Thank you so much for your Tiefling smut contributions! I am so lovesick for Rolan and wanted to request--Rolan x fem Tav at the grove party? I know it's super early in both of their arcs but I can't help but wonder. 💕

Rolan x Fem!Tav (Unnamed)

Good Night For Company

"Would you mind if I kissed you?" Sometimes you need to feel lonely before you notice the person sitting right beside you.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Kissing, Accidental Cuddling, Feelings Realization | SFW

Word Count: 5,443 [Read on AO3]

Sometimes it was lonely to be the hero, she thought to herself.

Their camp was fuller and merrier than she’d ever seen it. Every last Tiefling she’d met at the Grove had joined them for a night of celebration, bringing along every last bottle of wine and spirits they could get their hands on as way of thanks.

Unsurprisingly, all eyes in camp seemed to be searching for someone else to spend the night with. Who could blame them? Mortal peril and hard-won victories tended light a fire in people, herself included.

Yet somehow she still found herself short on options. Everyone at camp seemed more interested in clapping her shoulder in thanks than joining her for a night of abandoned pleasure. Even her close companions hadn’t taken much interest in what she had on offer.

Astarion was the only one who had made her an invitation. She practically felt grateful to him for it. He would tempt anyone, of course—just look at him. But underneath his beauty, there was a dark edge about the elf that made her hesitate in the end. How was it Gale had described him? ‘A tiger when it purrs.’

Honestly, she wouldn’t have said no to Gale, either. He was certainly attractive, and there was a sad weight to his shoulders that seemed to invite comforting. The kind she wouldn’t mind giving. Yet despite the lonely shine in his eyes, he’d made it abundantly clear to her in his loquacious way that his mind was elsewhere this evening. She left him alone to his private reflections.

She at least expected their own cheerful Tiefling to be smack in the middle of the evening’s revelry. Tonight, Karlach was nowhere to be found. Only when she later glimpsed Shadowheart’s tent standing dark and noticeably empty did she put the pieces together.

Well, good for them. At least two of their group might have a chance at a lay tonight.

No such luck for her, it seemed. She raised the bottle of Ithbank to her lips and tried not to feel too sorry for herself. The last few days had been long, exhausting, positively brutal…her muscles ached from overuse. Really, a good night’s sleep should be more than enough to satisfy her.

And yet—how nice it would feel to be touched and held with tenderness, even if it wasn’t real, even just for one night. Just enjoy a harmless tumble in someone’s bedroll before everything crashed around them again. The thought of the long road that would greet her in the morning made her groan, and she shook the thought away.

It hardly helped her souring mood to see Danis and Bex practically sitting in each others’ laps in the middle of camp, gently knocking their horns together with affection. She averted her eyes and took a rather resentful swig of wine as she trudged past.

“Go on then, give us a show!”

Teasing laughter came from just ahead. At the edge of camp, she happened upon the three Tiefling siblings from the Grove. Rolan, the oldest, stood flexing his hands as if preparing for an impressive feat. As she approached, she thought for just a moment that he glanced in her direction.

His brother Cal heckled him mercilessly from the rock where he and Lia were perched. “Lose your nerve, wiz?”

Rolan sighed, long-suffering. “Have you no respect for showmanship?” Not leaving time for any more smart comments, he flourished his hands upward with a low incantation.

The effect was like tiny stars, or fireflies, or some combination of the two. Sparkling lights spread and popped above their heads, leaving behind a violet mist that gently faded into the night.

She found herself smiling up at the sky. It wasn’t a powerful display, but it was lovely nonetheless. And certainly unique. She wondered how one went about inventing a Weave spell; she wouldn’t know where to begin.

Tucking the bottle against her chest, she offered a little round of applause. Cal looked over at her then and let out a groan of amusement. “Not you, now he’ll keep at it all night.”

"Shut it," Rolan shot at him, positively glowering. Lia was clutching her side in laughter at his expense.

Two against one; that was siblings for you. She was in a newly generous mood after his pretty magic, however, and decided to lend Rolan a hand.

"Surprised you're still here," she said, cocking her head toward Cal. "Last I heard, Lakrissa was looking for you."

Cal's neck practically snapped with how quickly he craned it around camp. Lia turned her mirth on him, aiming a punch at his shoulder.

"As if, you idiot," she chuckled. "She's only about ten times out of your league."

"You don't know that," Cal told her, completely thrown off teasing his brother as he rose to look around the party hopefully. "She told me I had a good parry one time—I could have a chance—"

As he wandered off, Lia threw up her hands and rose to follow him. "Guess I'll go save Lakrissa. Or maybe just watch what happens. Nice one," Lia added over her shoulder, grinning appreciatively at her.

She and Rolan were left standing alone to the side. There was some awkward shuffling of feet; somewhere past the campfire, Volo launched into his third stanza of Tymora's Melody. A song to make people lucky, she seemed to recall. A suggestive choice for the night.

"Drink?" She broke the silence, offering out the bottle of wine. Relief flooded Rolan’s face.

"Gods, please." He accepted and took a generous pull.

"You certainly have your hands full with those two, don’t you." She bit back a grin at the way his brow crinkled in response.

"They are…" Rolan cast around for the word. "Challenging. But I don't have to tell you that," he added, glancing sideways at her. "We were bickering the first moment you met us."

"That's just family, though," she laughed, taking the wine back from him. Their fingers brushed together slightly over the bottle.

“Nevertheless. My thanks.” He waved his hand in a general motion, but she could tell he meant her intervention before.

“Don’t mention it,” she told him.

Seeking a reprieve from the merry music and voices around them, her feet idly made their way toward the edge of the fire's light closer to the riverbank. From the corner of her eye she saw Rolan follow. They settled on a log of driftwood that faced the scenes at camp.

"So, you're finally making your way to Baldur's Gate," she said. It wasn't a question; he'd already told everyone who would listen about his apprenticeship with Lorroakan of Ramazith.

"Finally.” His eyes glowed with pure enthusiasm. "You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. The slightest delay has felt like an eternity.”

“And Cal and Lia? They must be excited, too.”

“Of course” he said, though his lips raised in a little smirk. “They’ve never been to the Gate, so they don’t quite know what to expect. But they’re just as eager.”

She watched him for a moment as she turned the bottle over in her hands. "You're quite sure of yourself, aren't you."

Rolan looked at her with a challenging expression. “Tell me, in our position, what else is there we can be sure of?"

He almost made her regret herself. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just that you’re very—”

“I expect most wouldn’t guess that a hellspawn could earn a position under the greatest archmage on the Sword Coast,” Rolan said before she could finish.

His moods were volatile as a storm; turning this way and that without warning. She was never sure what to expect from him. Before she could protest his assumptions about her, he continued onward.

"We three never had much between us, you know." Rolan’s voice was abruptly low and bitter. "Somehow we've got less now than we started with. Not even our birthplace anymore. The one thing I’m sure of is my magical talent. I'm not going to deny it for the sake of being modest—" he tossed the words out with contempt. "Not when it's the one thing I always knew I had in spades. With the right instruction, I could be inimitable."

She studied his determined profile in the half-light of the campfire. Perhaps there were more layers to his self-important attitude than she'd thought. After all, without him taking on the challenging role that awaited him in the city, Rolan and his siblings found themselves in much the same position as the other refugees milling about camp tonight. A heavy weight despite his obvious enthusiasm. Who was she to judge him, or any of them?

Rolan finally caught her watching him and cleared his throat. "Forgive me, I think I've—had too much wine."

"Oh?" She gave the bottle a swirl; it was still more than half-full. "You're making pretty good sense to me."

"I don't usually speak so freely with strangers," he explained tersely, glancing away.

She pondered the comment over another sip. "Does that make us friends, then?" She asked, not sure if she was being serious or trying to tease him. He did seem like he'd be awfully fun to tease.

"That's a little premature," he said dryly, but he glanced at her with a serious look. "Though I suppose, given recent events, you've earned it."

"A roundabout way to say yes," she laughed. "But I'll take it."

Rolan only made a low, grumpy noise in his throat. But he didn't challenge her.

“I’m really glad you three stayed, you know,” she told him. “I know you were against it. It certainly wasn’t the easy choice.”

Rolan plucked a bit of dry grass from between his boots, twisted it between his fingers. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Once Lia gets an idea in her head to save some poor thing or other, there’s no arguing with her. And she knows I'd never leave her behind.”

"You say that, but anyone with eyes can see the way those two look to you for guidance. They would've followed you down either path."

"Not like us staying even made a difference," Rolan deflected, tossing the ball of grass onto the dirt in front of them. "We only lost a few more traveling days waiting around while you and your friends took care of everything. For which, I suppose, we owe you thanks," he finished sarcastically.

"I suppose," she said lightly. But she was looking straight at him.

Rolan was clever enough to realize he was being chastised. He let out a sigh, but dipped his horns to her in resignation. "Thank you."

She only smiled at him and offered back the wine in response. He accepted without comment.

Watching him tip back the bottle, she mentally fit another piece to his puzzle. "You don't like feeling powerless, do you?"

Rolan looked sideways at her. "Does anyone? Do you?"

"No," she replied, feeling a little foolish for asking. When he passed it back, she drank deeply from the bottle, grounded by the burn that traveled down her throat.

"That must make your situation difficult." Rolan was watching her almost cautiously, as if the subject should be carefully tread.

"The tadpole, you mean?" She spoke it aloud, not wanting him to feel any suspense about the subject. How the thought could fill her with dread and a kind of dark humor at the same time was beyond her. Maybe the worm in her brain was finally driving her mad after all.

"First I had to talk Nettie out of giving me a lobotomy. Then I thought the renowned First Druid Halsin might be able to heal me, but no luck. I even thought that crazy goblin priestess could have something up her sleeve." She gave a mirthless laugh, starting to feel the weariness closing around her again. "Suppose I just need to keep searching, right? Halsin thinks we might find answers in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Or maybe the cure is in Baldur's Gate. Who knows," she added, glancing over at him. "Maybe your Lorroakan could know the solution, if he's as powerful as you say."

"He is," Rolan answered automatically. His luminous eyes were sharp with enthusiasm as he watched her. "When you get to the city, come see me at Sorcerous Sundries. If a cure exists, it'll be recorded somewhere in the library of Ramazith’s Tower, I'm sure of it. I’ll even research it, if I have time."

Inwardly she hoped they'd all be cured far earlier than that. But she was touched by his sudden helpfulness, even if it was half to prove the powers of his new station.

“Thank you, Rolan,” she smiled. “I appreciate it.”

He dipped his horns wordlessly toward her again. It was a gesture she was beginning to recognize, and grow rather fond of. She offered him their wine bottle in thanks.

From there they both let the moment drift. Seated on their log near the riverbank, she turned to watch how the rest of the revelry was progressing. Alfira had joined Volo in some kind of bardic duel; a rapid-fire melody drifted out to where the two of them sat. Lia appeared to be bravely trying her luck with Lae'zel. Judging by Lae'zel's very non-subtle body language, she was actually getting somewhere.

And to her disbelief, she even saw Cal and Lakrissa sitting together at the fire, engaged in what looked like a very friendly, very close conversation. Was it seriously everyone's night but hers?

She glanced to Rolan's face at her side. He wasn't paying attention to her; his fingers rolled the neck of their shared drink idly back and forth.

It should've occurred to her sooner, honestly. Despite Rolan's initial bluster, she found it surprisingly easy to speak with him one-on-one like this. He had a depth she hadn't noticed before.

And he wasn't bad to look at, either. Golden eyes set against inky black, strong jawline, lips that often curved up in a little smirk that she wasn't sure he deserved but found charming despite herself. She decided to dispense with caution and just try her luck.

"Would you mind if I kissed you?"

“What?” Rolan's head jerked around as he stared at her. "Why?"

"I don't know," she admitted. Maybe this was a bad idea; the shock on his face made her question her own boldness. But then she thought of his pretty spellwork. "Because you're the only person who's made me smile tonight."

Rolan examined her expression as though trying to tell whether she was joking. "We barely know each other," he said slowly.

She gestured her head toward the crowded clearing. "I mean, I didn’t know any of these people a few weeks ago. And now look at us. We’re practically family at this point.” She turned back toward him. "Besides, maybe I'd like to get to know you better?"

Rolan cast around for a response to that. "I suppose you're not…unattractive," he conceded. Although the nervous movement of his fingers gave him away a little.

"Know how to make a girl feel special, don't you," she laughed. "Look, Rolan, say no if you don't want to. I'm not after anything serious. It's just a good night for some company, and honestly, I’ve enjoyed talking to you."

Rolan was considering it; she could practically see his mind ticking between his options. "You're quite tenacious, aren't you?" He told her, the hint of a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"When I want something," she agreed.

Something in the words seemed to tip his decision. She watched Rolan's eyes flick down to her lips.

Taking that as a yes, she tilted forward to press them against his. His skin was warm and softer than she expected. Rolan didn't move against her, in fact was practically frozen still. She couldn't tell whether he was inexperienced or just out of practice. Regardless, she pulled away to look at him through her lashes, checking his expression.

This close his golden eyes almost seemed to blaze. She watched them move over her face, taking in her features up close. When he realized she wasn't going to initiate again, Rolan leaned in for another kiss.

Definitely not inexperienced, she decided, as his lips slid and moved softly over hers. She breathed in and smelled smoke and wine and something spiced; a pleasant warmth coiled in her stomach. He sighed into the kiss, apparently feeling something similar.

She felt a tentative hand rest on the side of her waist. Without breaking from him, she scooted sideways to get a little closer, inadvertently pressing her leg up against his. Rolan made no objection, only circled his arm further around her back.

It was the nicest feeling. Being held by a firm yet gentle touch, sharing kisses that flowed from sweet to eager to shy and back again. How long had it been? The longer Rolan's mouth moved over hers, the less she cared about remembering.

She hooked her arms over his shoulders to keep him close. As she tilted her chin for a better angle at his mouth, she took a chance and ran her tongue along his bottom lip. Rolan’s fingers dug slightly deeper into her side, but his lips parted to allow her in.

She felt a thrill run through her as their tongues melted together. They tasted each other softly for a moment; unconsciously, she combed her fingers up through the hair at his nape.

Rolan broke away gently at the feeling. She grew suddenly shy when their eyes met again, and she cast around for something to fill the silence.

"Why do you hide your ears behind your hair like that?” She wondered aloud. “They’re lovely." As she spoke, one of her index fingers went to tuck a lock of his hair back behind the long, pointed arrow of his ear, grazing against it with curiosity. Before she could blink, his hand caught hers to pull it away.

"Don't—" Rolan said abruptly, then let out a nervous laugh to break the tension. “Tiefling ears are…quite sensitive.”

"Oh," she said. His meaning sunk in the rest of the way. “Oh—I’m so sorry, I didn't realize—" The heat of embarrassment on her cheeks could have melted her.

"It’s all right,” he told her, laughing genuinely now. “Gods, your face is almost as red as mine.”

Rolan was even more handsome with a real, true smile on his face. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen one there before. Before she’d found a response, his grip on her wrist was gently pulling her arm over his shoulder, and her body closer to him with it.

She decided another kiss would shut up his teasing nicely. She followed his lead and then some, wrapping both arms around his lovely shoulders, melting against his lips again. He said something against her, but the words dissolved into a hum that sent a pleasant shiver down her back.

Finally, Rolan succeeded in pulling away to glance back toward the center of camp. "Sorry," he said breathlessly, and it sounded like he truly was. "I just—don't want you to face uncomfortable questions in the morning."

No doubt his siblings' teasing was another factor, but she didn't call him out on it. While she appreciated his chivalry, all she could think about was getting his mouth under hers again.

"We could go to my tent?" She suggested.

For all the cockiness he'd spouted from the first moment she met him, she felt Rolan's hands almost seize up around her.

The feeling made her bite back a grin. "I'd just like to kiss you some more," she said, tracing her thumb against his jaw. "We don't have to do anything else. It would just be more private. And more comfortable."

Rolan licked his lips, unsure. “Won’t that be even more obvious?”

“I don’t think this crowd’s going to notice much at this point…” She turned with arms still around him to look over the scenes near the campfire, and Rolan's gaze followed. The generous flow of alcohol was taking a clear effect on most of the faces gathered here and there. Around the fire’s edge, Alfira was leading many of her fellows in a rousing ballad that she didn’t recognize. Most voices were noticeably off-key.

“Come on,” she invited Rolan, rising with one of his hands in hers. He made no protests as she led him around the edge of camp, trying to stay out of the more obvious sightlines, and towards her empty tent. When she held the flap open for him, he ducked in quickly without a word, and she followed.

Inside, the light from the roaring campfire filtered dimly through the fabric walls. She watched Rolan’s luminous eyes glance around, taking in her personal effects, finally landing on her open bedroll. He swallowed hard.

“Just sit,” she told him, guiding him by the arm down beside her. They settled side-by-side on the blankets. Somehow the mood between them was back to the initial uncertainty of before, as if they hadn’t already shared a score of kisses.

“Your tent smells like you,” he said out of nowhere.

"Really?" She chuckled, but the observation somehow made her very nervous. “Not sure if I want to ask what my smell is.”

“Balsam.” Rolan didn’t elaborate, only dipped his head swiftly to place lips under her jaw. Her laughter dissolved into a sigh of pleasure. Clawed hands snaked up around her side and down over her shoulder, tipping her torso into him. She let her head loll to the side to give him all the access he could want.

She’d forgotten all about his sharp incisors. As he kissed down the side of her neck, his warm breath sending a cascade of shivers over her spine, one of his fangs grazed her bare skin by accident. Her sharp intake of breath surprised even herself.

Rolan pulled away to look at her, uncertain if he’d done something right or wrong. She used the moment to capture him in a kiss again, sucking and nibbling on one side of his bottom lip, letting him know how right he was getting this.

She sank sideways into her bedroll, pulling him down with her with hands clasped behind his neck, trying to be mindful of his angling horns.

Rolan's arm rested comfortably over her side, nails whispering against her back as he held her. He was so gentle like this; so unlike the way he presented himself to others. The thought that she was seeing a side of Rolan most others didn’t get to see—she liked that thought very much. She tangled a hand in his hair as their kisses turned soft, and lovely, and almost lazy.

The security of his arms around her in her soft bedroll, the alcohol making its way rapidly to her brain, the exertions of the day straining along her limbs…she felt herself drifting toward a state of relaxation almost like sleep. She roused herself, wanting to kiss him back while she had him here. She wasn't sure when they'd get a chance like this next.

But Rolan gently disentangled their mouths for a moment. "Here," he said, scooting his arm under her neck like a pillow. She leaned against him with a comfortable sigh.

"Your arm's gonna fall asleep," she warned him, making no moves to shift the weight of her heavy head.

Rolan chuckled low in his chest. "I think you'll be doing that first."

She wanted to make a snappy response, but all that came out was a petulant groan against his lips.

This wasn't going at all the way she intended. She wasn't supposed to doze off, she was supposed to kiss the Tiefling wizard until he saw stars, like the ones he'd conjured for her.

Because he had conjured them for her—she told herself that with certainty, whether or not it was true. The sweet thought carried her toward sweet dreams, and the memory of them behind her eyelids was the last thing she saw before she drifted.

—

The call of an owl nearby pierced through her sleep. As her mind surfaced in the darkness, the first thing she was aware of was the pleasant weight of an arm across her. She sighed and settled comfortably back into the warm figure pressed up against her hips and shoulders. The mystery arm pulled her in tighter in response.

Things began slowly filtering back to her; the party the night before, and the wine, and Rolan, and—

Her eyes opened wide then. The interior of her tent was so dark that she could only make out blurry shapes. Outside, she heard nothing but crickets and a few more distant owls hooting; it must be well past midnight. The fire hadn't been tended for hours, judging by the absence of light reaching through the fabric walls. Presumably the rest of camp had all turned in long ago.

With the nervousness of a person who'd fallen asleep from drink, she shifted around a bit to confirm that yes, she was very much still fully clothed. Her toes flexed against hard leather; even her dusty boots were still on her feet. That answered that question, at least. She glanced down at the clothed arm over her stomach.

"Rolan?" She whispered through the dark.

She felt and heard his lips mumble something against her hair, and then Rolan's face nestled deep into the crook of her neck with a happy sigh. The intimate gesture made her bite her lip. She could feel his steady breaths tickle against her collarbone.

However much she might want to let him stay right there, forever, she knew she should wake him.

"Rolan," she whispered a little louder. Twisting a bit to free the arm under her side, she reached to gently pat the spot between his horns. She felt his hair rustle freely under her hand; its orderly tie must have come undone in the night.

Rolan inhaled sharply awake then. He lifted his head from her as if trying to cast around for where he was.

"We both fell asleep," she whispered, stating the obvious. She felt him tense up behind her as he took in his body's positioning: chest pressed against her back, one arm cradling her neck, the other wrapped tight around her waist to keep her pulled in close to him. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she even felt his tail twined around one of her legs.

Every part of him retreated from her at once as he lurched into a half-seated position. "I'm sorry," he apologized in a groggy whisper.

"It's fine," she assured him, wondering why he would assume she didn't enjoy the closeness as much as he clearly had in his sleep. "I think everyone else is asleep by now."

There was a long, quiet pause. Then Rolan began, “Did we…?”

“No,” she interjected with certainty.

"Thank Gods. I mean—" He cast around in the dark for one of her hands, realizing how that came out. "We both drank a lot, that's not how I want—it shouldn't be like that."

"I know." The sweet goodness of him made her heart swell.

Suddenly, Rolan grabbed his head with both hands. "Fuck," he hissed. "Lia and Cal."

"What about?"

"They'll know I didn't come back to our camp last night," he groaned low.

"Oh—okay," she said, trying to think; her brain was still fuzzy from the night's wine. "Well, maybe they'll just assume you got back late?"

“You don't understand, they know that I—” He cut himself off, and finished, “They already tease me about you.”

“Oh." She did her best to ignore the way that made her insides do a happy flip. But she couldn’t resist teasing a little herself. “Then maybe they’ll just assume you finally got lucky?”

His head fell against her shoulder with a groan, horns lightly knocking against her. “Please,” he begged.

“Sorry, Rolan—” She was instantly contrite, holding his head close to place kisses across his hair and forehead. "Listen, we've got an hour or two before dawn. Maybe you can sneak back and they won't know how late you were out. Where's your camp?"

"The bluffs just outside the Emerald Grove, with Lakrissa and the bard."

She knew the spot; they could easily reach there in a quarter hour on foot. But first, she scooted away and undid the flap of her tent to peer out for any signs of activity.

Everything outside was very still. She watched carefully for another moment just in case; near Wyll's tent, Scratch snuffled and buried his snout further against the owlbear cub's feathers. Beyond that, there were no signs of stirring in the camp.

She ducked back inside the tent for a moment. "C'mon—"

With quiet, shuffling feet, they crept out into the quiet moonlit night. Scratch's head raised silently in their direction. She stared into his dark eyes with a silent plea, begging him to be a good boy and stay quiet. He lowered his head back down without a sound. She swore to herself that she would find him the biggest, juiciest bone in the morning.

She grabbed Rolan's hand behind her and tugged him quietly through camp. They passed tent after tent filled with steady breathing, boots padding against the dirt in near-silence.

Once they were outside the ruined wall at the edge of the campsite, she let out her pent-up breath in relief.

Rolan kept his fingers twined firmly with hers as they walked through the moonlight. They talked about anything to fill the air, about things that didn't matter, both trying to stave off the impending end of their short night together.

Far sooner than felt fair, they rounded into a familiar clearing, and she knew his destination was just up the hill to their left.

"Well," she began, as they slowed to a stop.

Before she knew it, she was pulled against Rolan’s chest in a tight embrace. She folded herself into him as completely as she could manage, breathing deep and committing his scent to memory.

When they broke apart, he kept her close so he could see her face in the moonlight. "Which route will you take to reach the Shadow lands?"

"Through the Underdark if we can," she answered. "I wasn't sure about it, but we all took a vote after the fight yesterday. What about you three?"

"I don't know," Rolan said honestly. "It depends how Zevlor decides. We're all going to travel together as far as we can."

"Oh," she said. She ought to say something reassuring about how that was a wise tactical choice, but she was overcome with the realization that she might not see Rolan again for many weeks. Possibly not until they both reached Baldur's Gate.

In that moment, she fervently regretted not fucking this wonderful man into tomorrow when she'd had the chance—wine be damned. From the way Rolan was looking at her, she wondered if he was thinking the same.

Instead, she leaned in to kiss him one last time with everything she had. She wanted to remember the way his shoulders fit perfectly under her arms. Rolan’s grip closed around her middle, and in the next instant she felt her feet dangle weightless as he lifted her off the ground into him.

The kiss had to end eventually. As he lowered her onto her feet, she touched back down to dirt and reality.

“Your hair,” she gasped suddenly. It hung loose to his shoulders, his red ear tips poking from between the locks. It was a very handsome look for him.

Rolan raised a hand up in realization himself. “I’ll figure something—” he began, but she was already tugging at the leather lace that fastened her shirt. She raised it to her mouth to bite off a short length.

Before he could stop her, she stood on tiptoe to gather Rolan’s hair behind his head the way he usually kept it. Her arms circled him as she tied it halfway back with the makeshift string. She could feel his eyes on her face, but she steadily avoided meeting his gaze. She foolishly felt like she might cry if she did.

“There,” she sniffed as she pulled away.

Rolan only gave her a gentle smile. “Thank you,” he said, dipping his horns to her one more time.

Telling him goodbye hurt just to think about. “Good night,” she whispered to him instead.

“It has been,” Rolan agreed. “The very, very best.”

#this one turned out much longer than i expected #how very much i love him #rolan x tav #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #tav pov for a little change

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ratcandy · 22 days

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Big Huge Irritated Rant About The Latest COTL Update's Story Choices and the Implications

So the lore drop in the new Cult of the Lamb update, Unholy Alliance, pisses me off. The writer's confirmation of what that lore drop means pisses me off more.

Why? Because it's unnecessary recontextualization that was made pretty obviously in favor in one character in particular, and somehow in that process makes that very same character way less interesting. I think it's incredibly detrimental to the story and I will Explain Why in a second.

But before I do, I just want to put this out there: Prior to this update, my opinions on the Bishops and Narinder and that entire plotline were pretty neutral. I'm an NPC enjoyer, I spend my time thinking about that moth with two lines of dialogue. I did not previously have strong opinions on Narinder or Shamura outside of mild dislike for fandom treatment. So I'm not coming from a place of bias here (or at the very least I'm not trying to be). I genuinely, wholeheartedly, 100% believe this writing decision was unnecessary and the Wrong one to make, and I think it severely undercuts the original plotline because this was a retcon and one that sucks pretty bad.

Ok we're on the same page here? Ok awesome. Long rant ahead, and obvs spoilers for the Unholy Alliance update

So first, what the hell am I talking about? What part of the update do I not like? Let's clarify that first.

It's Shamura's dialogue. Like, all of it. For ease of understanding, here is all the dialogue I will be talking about:

"Ah... we gathered here, the four of us, a council of war and I the general. I have not forgot. I did not tell them that chains to bind a God must be forged of Godly matters. What matter of Gods? What matters of Gods? I have not forgot. The betrayal of kin, the breaking of spirits, blood spilled, his and ours. ...the sacrifice of what we had sacrificed so much for... ...shaped into shackles for our own brother. And our wounds always to weep. Such sharp claws..."

"He sought to break nature's own laws. Death was his, yet he placed his sacred duty in peril. His experiments... Experiments I encouraged. I am not... blameless. My soul, stained... yet I do not... Ah, The story. Yes the story... He wanted to open the doors between Life and Death, to... to allow their return. Those mere... mortals. Even though he knew their sacrifices, their faith, their fears sustain us. Death must be the end. Otherwise, what use would they have for Gods? They began to flock to him. What he promised, we could not match. He swelled with devotion... while we waned. Would he have let us perish? I could not take... the risk... the hunger... You are lucky there are none left to force such a choice on you. Hail, Lamb. Last God... lonely God... Ah... I feel... unburdened..."

And for fun, before anyone tells me I'm misinterpreting any of this or that it's left up to interpretation or is intentionally vague, Word of God (the writer of CoTL):

And it's this being Word of God that's spurred me into making this post to begin with. Because prior to this, I just seethed about this dialogue's implications in my server and hoped I was wrong. But now it's been confirmed what this means, and I'm . Disgruntled, to say the least!

And since I've started writing this post, there's been another addition made to further clarify parts of this. But I'm going to go over that addition more towards the end, because it also irritates me for separate reasons.

So, let's get this straight.

Prior to this update, the specifics of what happens between Narinder and the Bishops were pretty vague. We were told Narinder was "gluttonous in his ambition," per Shamura's previous dialogue, and that they "introduced him to ideas of change" but "Death cannot flow backward." Heket somewhat elaborates on this by saying he preached "heresy" and "noxious ideals" that would not be tolerated. Heket also notably refers to Narinder as a flat-out "monster." Narinder attacked his siblings and left them each with a big, symbolic wound. Then he was chained by the four of them, with Shamura the one to lead it (in their own words).

There's a lot of talk of betrayal, but before this update, it was unclear if the betrayal was meant to just be Narinder's experimenting with death (which even then was pretty heavily suggested to be resurrections) or the wounds inflicted upon his siblings. There's also a lot of talk of sacrifice, i.e. from Leshy if you kill Heket before him: "After everything we did. After everything we sacrificed. He will not be satiated."

Regardless, the picture this painted was of Narinder being this ambitious, evil, violent God that even his fellow Gods (Kallamar) feared and felt needed controlling. The idea that the wounds could have been in the nail in the coffin to this entire ordeal made sense; as they were obviously planned by Narinder to some extent (otherwise why be so intentional about who got what wound?) and a fair reaction to Being Mutilated would of course be to chain him.

Then of course there's the idea that the wounds were given while he was being chained and in self-defense, which only seems possible if you think Narinder could take on all four of his siblings at once like that and only manage to lose his claws in the ordeal (which was only revealed in this update to be something he's implied to have lost thru the relic). I thought this at first too, but realized it seems pretty impractical for that to have been the case if the wounds were also purposeful in who got what. I mean, sure, they could all be coincidentally symbolically appropriate for each Bishop, but I have doouuubts?

but now we're here, with this update, and all has been revealed.

And what's been revealed exactly?

Narinder's thing he was doing was indeed resurrections (we knew that)

Shamura encouraged him to do it (we also already knew this)

It seems like he did literally nothing else outside of that

His siblings got pissy about this because it made their domains purposeless and got all their followers to flock to him

"Would he let us perish? I could not take the risk" - Implies they literally did not even ask him

Shamura knew that in order to forge chains that could keep Narinder down, it would require a sacrifice of their bonds AND their flesh

They DID NOT tell the other Bishops this

Their wounds were requirements to chain him. They had to get the wounds they bear now in order to chain him. ONLY Shamura knew this. That means they allowed their siblings (and themself) to get attacked knowing full well what would happen. They may have even encouraged it, perhaps provoked Narinder into it, seeing as they knew the wounds were necessary to have him chained. (Or they just knew he would retaliate. Which, like. Yeah. They're condemning him after he went down a path they encouraged and, as far as we can tell, nothing else.)

And for... what?

In this version of the story, Narinder was experimenting with resurrections, and Shamura told him to keep doing that. Then he was successful, mortals turned to him, and his siblings (including Shamura, the one who told him to do it) got mad. That's it. That's their reasoning for chaining him. There's nothing else given. "Would they perish?" We have no idea. Is that how it works? Seems like Shamura doesn't know either. Or at the very least doesn't know if Narinder intended for that at all. Gives the vibe that literally no effort was made to talk to him and figure this out. They don't even really go down the "it puts nature out of balance!" path, which would at least have some merit, maybe. It's literally just "we are no longer sustained. What's the point of Gods in this world?" <- idk babe you had all the other ones slaughtered. So you tell me

And then Shamura just took it into their own hands, leading their siblings to their shared wounds (WITHOUT consulting them) and their inevitable destruction because of........... reasons, I guess. (I mean, if you think about it really hard, they probably also already knew what would happen following all this. With the lamb genocide and Narinder's resurfacing and etc. And they had their siblings wounded anyway. For no god damn reason)

And now why does this make me mad?

Because, honestly, in and of itself, there's not anything necessarily wrong with this added context. It's not contradicting anything in the main game. Shamura knowing what was needed makes sense, after all.

But it's... unnecessary. It screws up the motives and makes them more shallow, less nuanced, more... petty. Making gods petty is cool and all, I love doing that honestly, but in this case it just feels like a waste of potential.

But beyond all that. But most importantly.

This entire recontextualization of events REEKS of being made specifically to absolve Narinder.

I mean, come on. He's made out to be the victim, here. Shamura knew what he would do, knew what he would become, and knew exactly what would happen to their siblings if they sought to chain him (without doing so much as talking to him beforehand), and yet they encouraged it.

All blame is being shifted on Shamura. All Narinder did specifically against his siblings was inflict the wounds, which at this point seems to be hinted as self defense or a retaliation against threat or insult (assuming he was provoked into attacking, somehow). Because the wounds were part of the process.

And almost equally irritating, this seeks to arbitrarily absolve Leshy, Kallamar, and Heket as well, as they had no idea what the plan was and were just strung along. Which is just kinda worse, right? As far as they are aware, Narinder did just randomly attack them for no reason, and this wasn't foreseen, and surely couldn't have been stopped. All because Shamura didn't tell them any of it.

Shamura is being made into the big bad. Shamura is at fault for everything, for all of it. Narinder is a victim of Shamura encouraging him down a path they later condemn him for, their siblings are victims of Shamura and Narinder both (the latter of which could have been resolved at any point prior), and now any possible intrigue about Narinder being this big bad guy who tore apart his siblings due to his own ambition getting the best of him is ERASED.

It's GONE. All in favor of making him more sympathetic.

And sure, about a million different excuses could be made for Shamura, or could be used to headcanon whatever you want about exactly what happened. But with what we're given right now, just from the source, no attempt as made to stop Narinder before it got to this point. It is literally suggested they didn't even talk to him.

"Maybe they were too scared" - For the other three, maybe. Shamura is the eldest and clearly the most respected one, by Narinder as well (he holds some amount of respect for them even STILL. After EVERYTHING). They at any point could have stopped this.

"Narinder could still have been a bad guy outside of the attacks" - Sure, but we're given little to nothing on that front. In the old dialogue, literally all that's mentioned is the resurrection stuff and the wounds. Shamura is the one who said his ambition made a glutton of him, by the way. And hell, this isn't even touching the very real possibility that all of the Bishops (Narinder included!) are unreliable as hell.

"But Kallamar feared him even before his chaining, that suggests he was still a bad guy beforehand" - Sure, it could! But that's about all we get! And hell, in this new update, Kallamar's fears are fucked with, too. He states:

"Once, long ago, Followers would worship at my altar just to glimpse the beauty of my temple… of course, it could not last forever. Perhaps my siblings did not understand this, but I have always known. It did not make me less afraid. Cowardly Kallamar, ha…"

Here, it seems Kallamar's fears have been changed to be more about the decline of his temple and the loss of his followers, which was happening because of Narinder. He refers to Narinder's plans as "foolish" as opposed to... idk, horrifying, or threatening, or whatever. He also fully takes on the 'cowardly' title, giving the impression that his fears were somehow unfounded, which wouldn't make a lick of sense if Narinder indeed sucked ass outside of the wounds.

Not to mention he "didn't want to hear it" when Shamura "revealed the plan," but we know because of Shamura that they didn't mention anything about the wounds, so Kallamar didn't want to hear that they... had to chain Narinder? That's literally all he could've been told about the plan. Why wouldn't he want to chain Narinder if he was scared of him up until that point?? Doesn't make any sense!!! EDIT AFTER I POSTED: On reconsideration this might just be referring the lamb genocide plan, but that's hardly better, because now this update absolves Narinder, Leshy, AND Kallamar by making them blameless in everything (both Leshy and Kallamar expressed not fully understanding the plan for the slaughter or, in this case, not wanting part in it). What's up with THAT. Why is Shamura getting the blame for LITERALLY EVERYTHING.

Anyway, my point is

This was a story decision made to make Narinder sympathetic. It's so blatant. And it's so, so irritating. It gets rid of so many potential cool flaws of Narinder and replaces it with "Actually, Shamura was the bad guy the whole time! Huzzah!"

And honestly, had the entire game come out like this to begin with, released at the start how it is right now, I don't think I'd care this much. But being added now, as an afterthought, after the fandom and devs alike have grown to favor Narinder above all others, it just...

It reeks of favoritism. It smells of revising the story to make Narinder more likeable. It's just erasure.

And for what. Like, I don't want to be That Guy, but I cannot help but notice that one of two nonbinary characters (outside of the Lamb/Goat themselves) is being this heavily demonized in favor of absolving a Man of his crimes. What's, uh. What's up with that.

Oh, and that addition by the writer I mentioned was made while I was writing this.

This was made after Jojo was questioned whether this was a retcon as to who caused the wounds, as this whole thing could also certainly be read as Shamura being the one to directly wound their siblings (which I didn't think was the case, but still).

"I don't know if they thought it would be so severe" - How do I put this in a nice way. This feels like a weaseling out answer. This feels like giving Shamura an out only after being questioned on this writing choice. How could they possibly not know how severe it would be. This spider is Knowledge. This spider has Foresight of some kind. And how do you not know what they thought. You are the Writer. If you want to clarify something like this you gotta say it with your full chest.

Not to mention a good portion of the fandom probably won't even see these tweets, so this context is all missing from the story presented in the game. This is Tacked On Context on top of already Tacked On Context. It's unnecessary retconning all the way down.

Anyway. I realize the fandom at large will not care about this, because (and I mean this in the nicest way I can manage) the Narinder favoritism in this fandom is already impenetrable, but for me personally? This retconning that was so clearly done out of that favoritism?

It ruined Narinder's character for me. More than the fandom possibly could have. I mean, if it's fanon, it can be ignored. But this was canonized. Because Narinder is the dev team's favorite guy.

And I can't stand it.

#VERY long ramble #<- i mean it. this post is chunky.#I have a lot of thoughts. And they are not positive. MM dev team when i get you.#Narinder enjoyers beware. I do not like your man and it's because of this update.#If anything I said in the post is unclear please feel free to ask and I will elaborate where I can! I tried to make my thoughts #as clear as possible. but i am also a fulltime college student with a keyboard that is currently retaliating against me.#My brain is a little scattered atm lmao. but if I hold onto this post much longer I might just anxiety myself out of posting it.#because nobody else seems to be having these same critiques. Save for my tiny little discord server where we are all very loud haters.#If you don't agree with me that's awesome 👍 please be normal about it tho if you are arguing i'm begging.#if this post gets any amount of traction I'm going to be wary about having my inbox open hkjsdhg #ok now the scary part.#cult of the lamb #cotl unholy alliance #cotl spoilers #unholy alliance spoilers #<- i don'tknow if that still needs tagging but jic. also I'm wary of tagging characters on here. so for now i won't.#cotl #ok that's it for now. Runs away. Fast

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berenwrites · 8 months

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Quiet - Stranger Things - Steddie - G

Rating: G | cw: none | tags: D&D, future fic, Corroded Coffin made it, Eddie lives, fluff

Prompt: Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing (@steddieasitgoes)

A/N: Written for @steddielovemonth day 6. I love the idea of Corroded Coffin being a big name, but still being nerds at heart, so this is what I went with.

Also on AO3 | All My Other Stranger Things Fic

Quiet: But Far From Idle

Eddie tapped his pen against his lips as he tried to come up with a dastardly trap for the D&D campaign he was writing. He could use the laptop, but he’s old school and he likes to write things out by hand. It gave him a chance to doodle at the same time.

The fact D&D had made Corroded Coffin relevant to the youth of today rather than finding them via their music was ironic, but he was not arguing with it. It had been Steve’s idea to record one of the band’s campaign sessions and put it on YouTube with clips on TikTok because D&D had become popular again. The band were still touring, still releasing albums, but the social media thing had brought in a whole new generation of fans.

Their new album was nearly ready for release, so Eddie was writing a campaign that incorporated some of the themes from it. Part fun, part advertising. Their record company had been thrilled by the extra attention and had even planned time into their upcoming tour for filmed D&D nights to keep the fans happy. Writing D&D campaigns was now almost as important as writing new music.

Eddie was having a ball.

He glanced over to where Steve had the other end of their dining room table with various large pieces of paper spread everywhere. Steve had a pink hairband pushing his silver-fox hair back to keep it out of his face and his glasses were perched on the edge of his nose. There was a red pen behind his ear and a green one in his hand, and his tongue was poking between his lips as he concentrated.

It was all utterly adorable.

While Eddie planned fantasy, Steve was going over venue security for the beginning of the tour. Steve took the band’s security very seriously. They had a professional team these days to handle everything, and Steve let them do their jobs, but he always insisted on checking. Gone were the days when their only security was Steve in the corner with his baseball bat. However, Steve couldn’t let it go. It was a hang-up from the Upside Down days when they had had no one to rely on but themselves.

They had both almost died, so Eddie could very much understand Steve’s need to make sure those around him were safe.

Steve liked to go old school with paper and a pen as well, and from the looks of it he had found quite a few things wrong with at least one of the venues. The printed plan was covered in red notes. Eddie smiled to himself, knowing that nothing would ever get past Steve.

“Need anything, Sweetheart?” he asked as Steve changed pens while glaring at the venue plan right in front of him.

His husband looked up, blinked, and then smiled.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” Steve said. “How’s the campaign going?”

“They will not know what hit them,” Eddie replied with his best evil grin.

“They never do,” Steve said, glancing back down at the sheet of paper he was currently studying. “You should have a t-shirt made with the old hell-fire logo to make sure everyone knows you’re a demon,” he added as he circled something in red.

Eddie laughed as he lost his husband back to his self-appointed task. He took out his phone and made a quick note to ask Liz, his assistant, about t-shirts before focussing down on his notes again. Steve always had great ideas. It was one of the many reasons Eddie loved him with all his heart. He counted himself one of the luckiest guys on the planet as he went back to quietly planning how to put his best friends into mortal peril.

All My Other Stranger Things Fic

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #eddie lives #post season 4 #steddielovemonth #eddie x steve #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie ficlet #future fic

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allwormdiet · 25 days

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Arc 1: Gestation, Concluding Thoughts

Two days in the life of Taylor Hebert, with a bonus one night in the life of Danny Hebert. Let's break it down.

Right now, initial feelings are really positive. I like this arc, I get why people are in on this in such a hardcore fashion, like it's making sense to me as I'm reading it. The characterization is really strong, the A to B plot is cool, and the first fight scene was a fucking banger to open up with.

And like, shit, I get why Taylor is throwing herself into cape life, right? Civilian life is already such fucking misery for her, utterly alone and the only person who's theoretically in her corner is sympathetic but just as helpless as she is. Yeah sure, mortal peril, but if she had nothing to do I feel like the bullying would've killed her eventually. Death versus Lung is at least marginally more noble than death by Emma. And isn't that fucking bleak.

Looking ahead a little bit towards Arc 2 and I'm immensely curious how long it'll take Taylor to do cape stuff again. I feel like I'd need a solid month to process the whole "near death experience" thing and then spend time sweating over whether I even put the mask on ever again. Meanwhile I wouldn't be surprised if Taylor went back out in like a week, because she's a hardcore maniac.

It's also very interesting looking at this and considering the exact sequence of events that went through these chapters. If the bullies didn't wreck Taylor's notebook, or if Taylor took a different message away from its destruction, there might be one or more dead Undersiders right now, and to a lesser extent Armsmaster wouldn't both get credit for a major capture and also owe this rookie hero a favor. Both of those things are going to matter a lot, and it's, I dunno, some people would call that contrived but real life is so full of weird coincidence and happenstance I can buy this no problem.

...Honestly now I get why so many AUs that diverge before this point still include the Lung fight and the Undersiders and Armsmaster meetings, like yeah at that point it's contrivance but I'm not going to sweat an author too hard because they don't want to figure out how fucking dramatic the butterfly effect (hah, butterfly) would be on the rest of the story. Like yeah it's contrived, but that's a lot of work they'd have to do otherwise.

That aside, I'm gonna get back on topic and meditate on my current gripes. 1.3 was a legitimate low point in this arc with the description of the Docks and its residents and their circumstances, and the total clusterfuck of the Azn Bad Boys, which. By the by this is the last time I'm going to say the full name of that gang, ABB is shorter and is less embarrassing for everybody involved. Wall-to-wall racism, classism, and an utter lack of sympathy for the lesser-thans. Like we're talking about crack whores in the year of our lord 2011, or, they were written about in 2011 and I'm hollering about it on the internet in 2024. When this kind of thing comes back up (when, not if, I'm not that optimistic) I just hope I can work around it, like eating everything but the bruise on an apple.

To close this out, I'm thinking about the people in Taylor's life. Emma, a former friend turned bully, and her cronies Madison and Sophia. Pretty shallow characterization at this point, just that they're cruel to the point of hospitalizing their victim. Danny Hebert is supportive, but has all the strength of a sponge when it comes to holding up against the pressures that weigh on Taylor, and he knows it but he's not doing anything differently. The Undersiders, criminals who mistake Taylor for a criminal, but identify her correctly as a comrade and potential friend, who realize she was fighting for them and went to fight for her. Armsmaster, who offers her very genuine and very sought-after praise as an authority figure, and then leans on that authority to get what he wants out of a freshly traumatized and exhausted teenager.

Is it any wonder that Taylor takes the path that she does? Would anyone have it in them to be surprised if they could see all of this from a bird's eye view?

I wonder if Armsmaster ever thinks back about this night, lying awake in bed. If he ever wonders what he could or should have done differently, or if he couldn't have done anything to divert course.

I was talking to my girlfriend about something related to this the other night, actually. If it's worse in a tragedy for there to have been a chance to avert it all, or if it's worse for the end to be inevitable. Looking at Taylor, looking at Brockton Bay, looking at Earth Bet? I dunno. If someone had acted early, with knowledge and intention sufficient to actually provide aid, maybe it would've been enough, but hell. Maybe not. I don’t know which possibility is more damning.

...I get melancholy when it's late, but I don't think it'd be right to delete all that; it's how I'm feeling about the novel, and that's what this blog is for, so even if it's a bit dramatic it'd be self-defeating to pretend I didn't say it.

Arc 2... probably starts tomorrow, assuming nothing comes up. Glad to say I'm looking forward to it.

#worm liveblogging #parahumans #worm gestation #concluding thoughts #liveblog #wormblr

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bg-brainrot · 7 months

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Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party

Bonus Hug - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, post-game, epilogue, cw: alcohol, jealousy

WC: 2.1k words, 18/18 chapters

Summary: An epilogue hug! Astarion sees Rogue!Tav giving out hugs and wants one of his own.

Author's Note: This was not part of the original fic, added on after the epilogue was released, however I chose to put my own spin on the epilogue hug.

Finally, Whether you read this fic AO3, on Tumblr, or a combo of both, thanks so much for joining the hugfest! I love this vampire man, and may he have many, many more hugs <3

Ao3 | [Hug17] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

It’s been six months since your victory at Baldur’s Gate.

Six months of traveling through the Underdark with Astarion, establishing a base for the vampire spawn, and figuring out your next steps together. It was perilous and difficult work, but you wouldn’t change a single thing.

You have missed your former companions dearly though, so when you received the invitation from Withers for a celebration, the smile that broke across your face could blind a celestial. I wouldn’t miss this for anything – not even a fresh new apocalypse, you wrote back.

So that’s how you and Astarion have found yourselves above ground once again, the familiar wilderness of the Sword Coast a welcome sight, the distinguished company an even more welcome one.

Everyone seems to be doing quite well, despite how you all left each other. Lae’zel is only able to visit through a projection, and the reprieve is rather temporary for a few of your companions– namely Wyll and Karlach– However, it’s a rare opportunity and you’re incredibly grateful to have it.

The elation must be obvious on your face, as Astarion takes one look at you and laughs. His sing-song little giggle never fails to bring a smile to your face, and right now your face is liable to crack open. “Go on, dear,” he says, sensing the eager tension in your body. “Mingle! If you need me, I shall be near the wine.”

“You can mingle too, you know,” you say, though you’ve already begun to walk away.

“Invite me again after a few bottles,” he responds. You know he loves them all in his own way, but he also finds them to be a bit too much at times. Ever the stray cat, he’ll find his way to them when he’s ready, at least you hope. So you nod to him in agreement and wander off to chat with your dearest friends.

You’re so excited to see them all again that you’re practically jogging to meet them.

Shadowheart is the first. When you get a good look at her, you see a peace in her face that you haven’t seen in any of the months you’ve known her. Something about it brings you relief. You knew they would each find their happiness without you, but seeing it firsthand is something else. Perhaps it’s because she’s looking so much more herself than ever, but before long you find yourself asking, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is caring and welcoming and everything you knew Shadowheart has always been.

Next you make your way to Karlach. She’s alive and well, which is ten times better than the last time you saw her, and you just might cry from the sight. She tells you about Avernus and about the possibility to fix her heart and you just might cry from that as well. Again, you can’t resist, especially knowing she’s been fighting for her life for six months. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is warm and strong, just like the woman in your arms.

After that, you make your way to Wyll. He’s doing rather well in Avernus with Karlach, and, when he mentions that he’s planning to ensure Karlach finds a solution to her heart, a few tears well in your eyes. Wyll is among the best of mortal and immortal men, and you’re glad he went with Karlach when you couldn’t. The grateful feeling is more than you can put into words, so you ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is strong and bracing and an absolute testament to Wyll’s enduring friendship.

You find your way to Lae’zel. After learning of her diligent efforts to save her people from Vlaakith, you can’t help but be awestruck by how much she’s changed. You’re inspired by her ability to learn to fight with words and stunned by how much she truly misses you. Even though she’s not there, you can’t help yourself, “Could I have a hug?” She simply clicks her tongue at you and calls you an idiot, somehow melting your heart all the same.

Eventually, you find Gale, tucked away with the tressym Tara. He’s a teacher and no longer at risk of exploding – you can’t help laughing at that, remembering the various times he almost blew you all up without the help of an all-powerful orb. Something about the way he speaks of his new role and invites you to visit, either to teach or just to spend time, makes you realize that this is what a happy wizard looks like. You love it and ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is all-encompassing and lengthy, much like one of Gale’s lessons in magic.

Finally, you find Halsin, dancing the night away. When you learn more about his endeavors, you find that he’s reestablishing the settlement at Reithwin, reconnecting the land to its people. He mentions that Thaniel and Oliver are no longer lonely and that the children of the settlement bring him a fulfillment he never thought possible. After regaling him of an exaggerated tale of your and Astarion’s adventures, you assure him that the two of you will visit soon to tell more. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is surprisingly gentle and comforting, and you walk away feeling quite content.

You determine that you’ll need to ask the rest, even Withers, for hugs if they’ll all be this enjoyable. But before you do that, you decide to take a moment to yourself, to process everything.

That’s how you find your way to a quiet corner, head spinning with warm, fuzzy feelings and maybe a smidge too much wine. Just being here, surrounded by some of the best people you’ve ever had the privilege to encounter, fills you with a companionship you weren’t aware you’d been missing. Astarion fills you with so much love and happiness, but this– this is different.

As if summoned with your thoughts, the vampire walks toward you, wine glass in hand. "Are you done mingling?" Sensing your mind is elsewhere, he leans closer, inspecting your glassy, faraway gaze. His hand lands on the small of your back, jolting your attention back to the present and you turn to look at him. His eyes sparkle at you with radiant joy and a hint of something else. Could that be annoyance?

You decide to focus on the joy. "Yes, I think I've managed to get good conversations out of everyone. Did you know Gale wants me to go teach at Waterdeep?" Your voice sounds incredulous, after all, you warned him: once a rogue, always a rogue. Unless he wants his students to learn how to stab more efficiently, he would do best to seek someone else.

Astarion clearly agrees, making an exaggerated, aghast expression. "You? A teacher?" He shudders in fake-fear. "My love, I pity the poor students who would be subjected to your methods."

“Hey,” you say, shooting him a glare. “I thought you were supposed to be the supportive one!”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I can only support so much, my dear.” Then he takes a long look at you, noticing how unfocused your eyes are, the flush to your face. “And from the looks of it, I may need to support your entire body before the night is over.”

You only grin at him and say, “What did I do to deserve such a caring man?”

“Yes, yes,” he says, rubbing gentle circles along your back. “Likely whatever you did to deserve the affections of every adventurer this side of the Chionthar.” His tone is joking, but the dark look on his face says otherwise.

Pushing aside your own amusement, you pull his hand from your back and lean into him. “Okay, what's the matter, love?”

“Oh nothing. I just thought my jealous days were behind me.” He sounds sullen, and you note a sad tilt to his eyebrows.

Jealous days? You groan, recalling his concern over the fiery barbarian. “Love, really truly, if I were leaving you for Karlach, I would have gone to Avernus months ago.”

He waves his wine glass at you dismissively. “I know that, and I don’t mean Karlach, contrary to all evidence thus far.” Suddenly avoiding your gaze, he takes a sip of wine and changes the subject. “No matter, let’s go ask Withers where he found this vintage.”

“No, no, no,” you say, tugging him back to you before he can walk off. After another six months together, getting used to each other’s idiosyncrasies outside of mortal peril (mostly out of mortal peril), you knew the escape was only a ruse. He wants to talk, but he seems too embarrassed to begin. “You’re allowed to be jealous, Astarion. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me why.”

Astarion stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a pair of vulnerable red eyes. “Do you promise not to laugh?”

You take a beat to debate this, but ultimately honesty wins over and you shake your head. “I wish I could, but I do promise to try my best?”

A sigh escapes him, and you’re graced with a soft, reluctant smile. “Typical. You were truthful though, so I shall be too. I was rather jealous of…” He wipes a hand over his face dramatically. “I was jealous that you’ve gone and hugged everyone else. Gods, I sound like a child.”

It’s a good thing you only promised to try your best because an involuntary huff leaves your lips, which you'd firmly pressed together in preparation. "That is…" you gasp out.

"Idiotic? Pathetic?" Astarion supplies.

"Rather adorable actually," you say, finally allowing a snort out. “How do you always manage to be both adorable and sexy?”

You swear you can see the tips of his ears color pink, but that may just be the firelight or your own tipsy vision. He only says, “I’m quite talented.”

“Would a hug help you feel better?”

Astarion looks at you, eyes darting between yours. You can see a bit of hesitation in them, and you’re wondering why when he says, “Only if it’s not a pity hug.”

“Never,” you say, solemnly. “You know I only give hugs I mean.”

He clicks his tongue, annoyed again. He places his wine glass down on the ground with a flourish, as if preparing himself. “Yes, exactly. Which is why I’ve gone and become jealous. This is all your fault and I expect you to remedy it.”

You nod, accepting this burden with ease. “In that case… Could I hug you?” Astarion waves his hand at you as if to say, get on with it already, and you dive right in.

The hug is loving, it’s understanding and supportive. It warms you, it cools you, and it makes you want to tackle this man to the ground in an aggressive affection– a feeling you only barely temper after a few glasses of wine. After experiencing so many hugs tonight, you find that the hug is so very perfectly him.

No, not just him. It’s the type of hug that the both of you make together. And it’s the hug you want to experience again and again for the rest of your life.

When you finally pull away from him, Astarion is smiling once more, jealousy evidently placated. “Well now, I have you every night, don’t I? Go on then, continue to bless them with your presence. I’ll be here when you’re ready. I’ll always be here, my love.”

You shake your head at him. “A lovely sentiment, of course, but you’re done hiding. Come on.”

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing as he tilts away from you.

“I said, you’re done hiding. No more shadows, they all keep asking about you and I’d rather you answer them yourself,” you say, all but dragging him back to the party now. “They miss you too, you know.”

“Darling, please. What if they ask me for a hug?” Astarion looks truly appalled at the thought.

You laugh, imagining him reacting like a cat forced into a bathtub. “You can say no, of course. But I promise not to get too jealous if you do.”

“What will it take for you to forget I ever said that?” he says, laughing and allowing himself to be dragged.

You quickly swipe his wine glass back up off the ground as you pull him along, and take a long drink before returning it to him. You only say, “At least two more bottles, though I suppose that depends on how wild Withers likes his parties.”

Hand-in-hand, you both walk off to enjoy the rest of the celebration. The night is young, the wine is flowing, and there are still many more hugs to be shared.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion masterlist #hugs for a vampire #hfav #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion

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dr-futbol-blog · 4 months

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The Storm/The Eye, Pt. 5

Believing that Weir is dead and McKay is in mortal peril, Sheppard proceeds to go on what amounts to a rampage.

The first scene of The Eye (S01E10) seems to continue the show's meta-commentary. McKay, brave toaster that he is and possibly at least partially motivated by the desperation that they can all hear in Sheppard's voice over the intercom, places himself between the gun and Elizabeth. The dialogue tells us what's going on (with the show and where it's heading):

Kolya: Sheppard put you in this position, not me. McKay: You can't do this. This is crazy. You need her! Sora: She's right, Commander. McKay: I'm not kidding. There are codes required to activate the shield – codes that only she knows. You can't do it without her! Well, you can't do this without me either. I mean, we're a package deal. You take us out of the equation and-and-and-and you don't have an end game.

The fact that Weir and McKay are a package deal is emphasized by their placement, McKay coming to stand in front of Weir and obstructing her. That is to say, the show needs to imply attraction between Weir and Sheppard to be able to explore the relationship between Sheppard and McKay in subtext, to blur the lines between the characters and their relationships. The first they could easily have done without the latter, but the latter they could never have pulled off without the former (re: the shows ties to the USAF and DADT still being a thing when it aired). It offers the cover of plausible deniability while allowing people attuned to homoerotic subtext to easily be able to recognize the narrative undercurrent.

Again, note that McKay is lying to save Weir, claiming that he absolutely needs her help to save the city. Also, it's Kolya mentioning Sheppard by name that initially makes McKay dive in front of the gun. He says "Sheppard put you into this position, not me" which has the implication that if McKay allowed Kolya to shoot Weir, Sheppard would have to live with the guilt of it for the rest of his life, and McKay wasn't about to let that happen. He hears Sheppard's name and he immediately reacts, does something really brave and heroic without even having time to think about it. Because, as I've discussed previously, he is a Big Damn Hero and this very characteristic of his is what Sheppard admires and loves in him so much, even though he doesn't even get to see it this time.

Halfway through his rant McKay realizes that he just put himself into jeopardy, and this is when he starts consciously doing the same thing he has been doing with the Genii ever since their first encounter: trying to convince them of his invaluability (and it's striking that it's always in the service of trying to save someone else, not just or even predominately himself). He has self-esteem issues, he doesn't actually believe he's invaluable. But probably since he was a child he's had to project invaluability, has had to prove to people that he is a valuable asset, to gain acceptance. He thinks that he will only be tolerated if he proves himself irreplaceable.

The characters continue lying to one another. Kolya lets Sheppard know that Weir is dead.

I want to point out two things. Where Sheppard was extremely agitated just a moment ago, willing to do anything, he is extremely and exaggeratedly calm when he tells Kolya that he is going to kill him. Of course he is very upset that Weir should have been killed on his watch. Of course he cares about Weir and is upset by this. But again knowing the outcome changed his demeanor. Sure, responding in a cool and collected way is a performance to hide the fact that he is internally shaken. But he still manages to pull it off.

Then Kolya continues with "Stay out of my way or McKay will join her." That is when we get a brief glimpse at how Sheppard is actually feeling, his internal conflict and anguish (and which is something that he has no intention of letting Kolya know, hence putting the radio down):

Now. My friends. When you desperately need something, you need something so badly that you're willing to kill for it, you start killing off things from the least important to the most important. Like when a parent starts counting down from ten when they're warning a child that unless they cease their behaviour, they're going to "get it". You don't start from one, you start from ten and count downwards.

If Kolya had thought that Weir was Sheppard's main motivation, he would not have started by killing her off. Never mind how important McKay may have been, you keep the ace up your sleeve as long as you can. And Kolya had decided that the ace up his sleeve was McKay, which is why he reminds Sheppard that he is, in fact, still very much holding him hostage.

Again, the main stream audience is going to watch the show thinking Sheppard's entire upset has to do with Weir and Weir alone. And yet we always seem to find McKay between references to Weir and changes in Sheppard's demeanor. And once more, given what we saw of their interaction in the previous episode (Sheppard barely saw Weir when the three of them were in the lab together; he was so focused on McKay it's as though she weren't even there for him; we've really had zero indication of him harbouring some hidden secret passion for her that would explain this reaction; she is not the love of his life and a budding interest would not even begin to explain his reaction here), it makes so much more sense to interpret this reaction and the events that follow as motivated by McKay. Especially in the context of him having lost Captain Holland to enemy combatants in Afghanistan, as we later learn.

Also notice that once Kolya mentions McKay, Sheppard doesn't respond. There are probably a hundred things he could have said, maybe even wanted to say. You can read it all on his face. But he doesn't say anything because he doesn't dare do anything that might provoke this sociopath further. He actually has to stop himself from saying something he might regret. He can't risk responding. Like, he physically has to force his hand down to keep from say something that McKay might end up paying for.

Sheppard was afraid that he wasn't going to be able to save the people he cares about from the storm before, but this is a whole new kind of fear. This is a nightmare of the kind he had never even thought to have. But he's going to move heaven and earth to save the man. He's even willing to kill to save him. Kill a lot of people to save him, as it turns out.

And it is also noteworthy that he immediately springs into action, here. We've seen previously how characters are incapacitated when they lose someone important to them (cf. Cowen sitting down with his legs giving way when he mourns Tyrus). Sheppard is the opposite of incapacitated (in fact, we see him incapacitated in this particular fashion in Doppelganger, S04E04, when he thinks McKay is dead, so we see what Sheppard is like when he's lost the most important thing to him; he's slow, sluggish, going through the motions). This is not a man going through the motions, this is a man on a mission.

Again we get a transition from Sheppard's emotion to the raging storm to indicate that there's a storm also raging within him. The storm is a metaphor for what's going on inside him. And the calmness with which he then proceeds to take out the Genii is him being in the eye of the storm. Because the show is subtle with the symbolism like that.

Sheppard is moving fast, he's being strategic. He's not someone that's blinded by rage on a revenge mission because someone just killed the love of his life. He's also not acting reckless, putting himself needlessly in danger and this is not because he has some payback to do and someone to kill but because he has someone to save. You can contrast all of this with Sora's behaviour later on with regards to her vengeance against Teyla.

He even stops to check his watch at one point because he remembers McKay's words about them being under a time element, that there's a deadline looming over them all -- this is reinforced by the fact that the previous time Sheppard checked his watch, it was on the balcony right after McKay had just checked his watch (unwittingly mirroring someone's actions, again a sign of attraction; although synchronizing watches is also a very military thing to do, to be sure) and told them they have just over four and a half hours until the storm hits.

We are literally told that it's McKay he's thinking about when he stops and actually asks himself, "What would McKay do?" Again reminding us of the fact that for Sheppard, McKay is a hero. That McKay is constantly on his mind.

I also need to emphasize that he is killing actual people here. Yes, they're enemies but they are also human. This is the first time we see him kill humans after the mercy killing of Col. Sumner.

McKay starts fixing the grounding station and it's really quite sweet how he attempts to make it look like Elizabeth is vital to the process to keep her alive. It's not that he's trying to be a hero, it just comes naturally to him. He's not very good with people, though, so Elizabeth both has to explain to him that they need to stall and to actually lie on his behalf. When they overhear that Sheppard has killed some of the Genii strike force over the intercom, it's again only McKay's reaction that we get to this, not Weir's. He made a mental note of it albeit he does not seem to know what to think of it. Sheppard is alive, yes. He's being hunted by people with guns. And he's having to do terrible things.

McKay really is quite rattled, never having been in this kind of situation before. And it's interesting that Weir uses Sheppard to kick McKay into gear. She actually mentions Sheppard by name: "Look, from the sound of it, if we can buy Sheppard enough time, it seems like he can take care of the rest of them on his own." Not only had she figured out that this is what would motivate McKay the best, she is actually getting him to focus by appeasing him, pointing it out to him that Sheppard is really doing quite well for himself out there. She's not telling him that they're going to be alright, she's telling him that Sheppard is safe. Because for some reason she thinks that that's what will motivate him.

And Kolya does the opposite. He's trying to demoralize them by mentioning Sheppard by name: "If you're hoping Major Sheppard can diminish our numbers, you are mistaken." And notice that he is saying this to McKay. He glances at Weir a few times but when he is saying this, he is looking directly and only at McKay. An angel and a devil on his shoulders, they're both using Sheppard to get to him. I find that really interesting. Now, Weir knows him and has been able to observe them for a while now. But these people are complete strangers to Kolya, and he's still figured it out.

Now, if earlier Sheppard had to stop himself from saying something that might cause McKay trouble, McKay seems to be doing the same thing. And keeping quiet isn't the easiest thing for him, does not come to him naturally. But he keeps quiet because he's trying very hard not to make things worse for the Major.

If both Kolya and Weir are using Sheppard to motivate McKay, Sheppard himself is using McKay to motivate himself:

He has a dilemma here. He's trying to think of what McKay would do in his situation but he's come across explicit instructions from McKay not to do what he's thinking about doing. That's quite the pickle! (Also hilarious that the sign can be read as implying that touching McKay is dangerous, telling him not to do it). Are you thinking about touching McKay right now? Because this is not the time, my friend.

From the pleased look on Rodney's face, Sheppard was able to correctly intuit what he would have done in the situation when he shuts down the naqada generator. It's like they're working together as a team even when they are apart.

Continued in Pt. 6

#stargate atlantis #sga meta #sga #john sheppard #sheppard is bi #rodney mckay #rodney is gay #ep. the storm #ep. the eye #ep. doppelganger #genii

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leverage-ot3 · 1 year

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thinking about how certain characters on the leverage team have been in mortal peril and why it was one person vs another and what that means

nate has been shot, like, multiple times. he’s the leader, the planner, the mastermind. he may not be the hitter but he takes risks that might not always pay off or be in best fortune for him, and he knowingly does that anyway. not much regard for his life sometimes to be completely honest. he’s also easily the most volatile (lesser as the seasons go on but still) and most likely to make a rash decision (season four season finale I’m looking directly at you)

I’m not going to talk about eliot too much because he experiences a lot of pain, but, also, it’s almost always pain that he can endure. he is the hitter- he’s the one that is supposed to take the brunt of the pain, the one prepared to get injured for the sake of the con and the safety of the team. he knows exactly what he is getting into when he throws himself into the situation. knows the risks, the damage he’s putting himself in for

hardison is frankly the biggest example of someone who is put into grave danger (ha). I’m thinking about possibly being murdered in the experimental job, buried alive in the grave danger job, drowning in the pool in the big bang job, etc. he’s not a hitter, doesn’t have the maneuverability or stealth of a thief. he can talk himself out of situations (within reason) but that can only go so far. and he’s not nate, making plans before they act. there’s lowkey a reason why he’s in the van besides the fact that his job necessitates it. barring sophie, he’s probably the least equipped/experienced to deal with real danger, real violence

on the other hand, sophie almost never gets hurt. sure, a gun may get pointed at her, but she can surely talk her way out (‘it’s not loaded’ ‘it was’ ‘not to a grifter’). I honestly can’t remember a time that sophie was ever seriously injured??? she is so meticulous about setting herself up in situations that will specifically not get her hurt, or where she has some sort of safety net or backup plan. I’m thinking about the quote where she says she gets people to unlock doors for her vs having to pick the lock herself

parker is somewhere in the middle of the spectrum but leans more towards sophie. she’s been in some scrapes and close calls (the inside job, the hot potato job with the burn room, the long way down job). but in nearly every situation like this she finds herself in, she can also work herself out of. she can run fast enough and climb and crawl far enough, dodge lasers well enough that she can manuver herself out of the problem. the few times she was ever in real danger was when she put herself there (I’m specifically thinking about the stork job when she puts herself between children and people with guns) (albeit fake guns)

some underdeveloped thought in the back of my mind is turning around the idea of importance to the show/team’s core and the likelihood of getting hurt

(talking eliot out of the equation so as not to skew the data, hardison is hurt the most because he is the heart of the group. nate is hurt so much because he is the leader. sophie and parker are undoubtedly still important, but have the skills to maneuver out of those situations before they spiral out of control)

(although the act of taking eliot out of the equation says something in of itself. something about the only person capable of taking that amount of pain for those he loves, etc, etc)

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blametheeditor · 4 months

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A Little Bit Goes A Long Way

Run Down: To be faced with your own mortality, would it change you for the better, or worse? David never thought he'd have to answer such a question.

Content Warnings: Cursing. Death scenes. Slight gore. Mentions of death and murder. Peril. Calling someone 'it' or 'thing'. Experiments. If you're new to this household, only happy endings, but certainly a roller coaster

*Cough cough*

______________

One minute, David is storming into the kitchen to demand why it’s taking twice as long as usual for food to be delivered out into the dining room.

The next, the suited man is nearly sent flying back into the hallway from the swinging door slamming into him. Barely gets out of the way in time before a shoe as big as a bus stomps on him. Feels his limbs lock up and refuse to move as he slowly realizes what’s in front of him.

He’s still in the kitchen of Fazbear Entertainment Center, all too familiar with the layout he changed around after signing paperwork that made him the sole owner of this franchise restaurant, as well as the faces of those he hired who were competent enough to keep their jobs for more than a week. He had opened the door a few feet away only a few seconds ago.

And yet, somehow, everyone and everything currently tower over him. David couldn’t move the door a single inch now no matter how hard he tried. A rolling counter has wheels that are as tall as him and easily provides a place for him to hide. Chefs and waiters seem more like skyscrapers than people he signs paychecks for.

That’s not the worst part. The sounds of people talking and food being made are so loud it makes his head feel like it’s going to split open. Simple actions such as walking within ten feet of him cause earthquakes that shake him to his core.

David can’t help but stare. He can’t look away despite knowing he could be killed at any moment if he doesn’t get to safety. Feels himself begin to tremble as it becomes harder and harder to deny what’s in front of him is real.

Even though it’s impossible for someone to suddenly shrink, there’s no denying the proof before him. Unless he’s simply having an incredibly vivid dream, or hallucination, or something because this can’t be real.

“Are those pizza’s done?”

“Careful, how many times do I have to tell you-!”

“Door!”

David feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and in that moment dives under the service cart that stands beside him. Groans from his ungraceful landing before staring in horror as the door opens and someone steps directly where he had been only a few moments ago. The thought of what would’ve happened, the idea this isn’t a dream and that could’ve been the end decides he’ll be treating this like it’s life or death.

The business man tries to ignore his heart thumping painfully against his chest as he watches the bustling kitchen, catastrophic giants unaware of his presence. Reminds himself he can’t get stepped on while he cowers under the service cart. He’s safe, at least for now. Unless someone realized what happened and are searching for him. Or the cart gets moved. Or something gets dropped and-

“Nope,” David murmurs as he closed his eyes to block out the world, clenching his fists to focus on something other than the constant trembles through the ground.

Those kinds of thoughts are not helpful. He needs to think about finding a safe place, then figure out a plan on how to get his proper height of six feet. But safety’s first.

...where the hell would he be safe at a size where shoes can crush him like a spider.

Taking a deep breath in the attempt to calm his nerves, David opens his eyes one at a time. Forces himself to look at the layout down at the ground. Ignoring the fact everything that’s familiar is now deadly, just focusing on places he can run and hide without putting himself in danger.

Going anywhere near the door is completely off limits. But if he travels further into the kitchen, there’s potential for a safe place to at least wait until the restaurant closes. Such as the toe kick space under the counters, though there’s not much depth to it and someone could spot him from the right angle. There’s small space under the ovens that goes as far back as the wall and seems to have the most cover, but he wouldn’t know if it’s too hot to stay down there. Out of everything, the pantry might be the best option, with plenty of shelves to hide under, and he’d be the farthest away from any possible incidents prone to happen in busy kitchens.

With that settled, now he just has to figure out how to get there. There’s no cover between where he is now and the pantry door, just a full mile of open air in which he’d be completely vulnerable to dropped items, shoes, and being spotted.

An involuntary shiver runs down David’s spine at the thought of someone seeing him. That would open an entire can of worms, especially if it’s realized he’s human instead of a pest. Getting killed is one thing, but there’s no telling what someone would do if they get their hands on him. It could range from making him pay for screaming at them because they weren’t doing their job right, to selling him to make a quick buck.

A glance is sent toward the wheels of the cart he’s currently using as shelter. Because while this could be moved, it doesn't necessarily mean it will be. It had been put here for a reason. He can’t remember if this is normally here every other day, meaning it’s a toss up if it’ll get moved again.

Which one’s better, then? Taking a chance out in the open, or hoping no one moves the cart?

...what if he moves the cart?

David stares at the large wheels for a moment before walking closer, willing to at least give it a try no matter how ridiculous the idea seems. If this actually works, he’ll take it. Though, he does hesitate to actually touch the wheel once he’s close enough to see just how filthy it is. Flinches when it dawns on him he’ll be covered in dust and dirt by the end of this ordeal.

He sighs long and hard with the reminder of yet another earthquake it’s either this, or an almost guarantee of getting crushed. Grits his teeth and tries to shove at the wheel with all his might. Growls when doesn’t budge, changing his position only to end up with the same results. Meaning he did that for absolutely nothing.

David looks back out at the kitchen. Narrows his eyes when he realizes the large island is closer to him than the pantry. And if he runs from the island to the counter...he’ll be covered for almost the entire walk.

It’ll be a lot more work, and shoes are constantly walking between all of the counters, but it’s certainly safer.

Now there’s three options. He doesn’t like any of them, but he hadn’t asked to get shrunk so these are the cards he’s been dealt with. As shitty as they are, he just has to make the most of them.

Honestly, taking the long path to the pantry seems like his best bet. It almost seems like he’s been taking too long, so he needs to-

His train of thought is lost when he sees a pair of shoes suddenly begin to walk toward him. And then words are booming through the air almost directly above.

“Hey, is the cart claimed?”

Fuck.

David freezes. Almost screams when the wheel beside him is suddenly turning, scrambling to get a safe distance away. Feels his blood run cold when the entire thing begins to move. And then David starts running.

He runs after the cart. If there was time to think, he might’ve recognized that as the worst thing he could’ve done, but adrenaline had taken control. The only thing he knew was that his only shelter was being taken away, and there was nothing he could do about it except follow.

It could’ve ended with him getting caught under a wheel. With it stopping abruptly and him slamming into it. Getting left behind and ending up underfoot from someone walking past.

None of those happen. Somehow by some miracle David stays with the cart before almost colliding with the underside of the counter. As soon as he hits the wall, he collapses, legs trembling so harshly it’s impossible to stay standing. Arms and chest aching after taking the brunt of the impact.

But he made it. He made it and that’s all that matters.

The business man pants, choking on air a few times. Takes a few minutes to slow his breathing and calm his racing heart. Makes the promise to fire every single person on staff for not realizing someone’s peril despite it happening right in front of them. It would be seen as unfair, and he could be sued for a lot of money considering he most likely wouldn’t be able to prove anything, but the thought makes him feel a lot better considering everything. It’d also be worth it.

David doesn’t know how long it takes to recover, just that it’s dangerous for him to stay any longer. So despite the fact his limbs are still shaking, he carefully pushes himself to a stand. Absolutely refuses to take off his suit jacket even though that would make running easier and help keep him from overheating. Like hell he’s loosing an expensive piece of clothing. He might be shrunk and fighting for his life, but he still has standards. Would rather die with dignity over living with a tarnished reputation.

Call him shallow and egotistical. The train of thought was able to calm him down, however. Distracted him from the thundering footsteps walking right past him as he walks under the cabinet's toe kick. Hoping its true purpose is rarely used. Unsure if he should be glad he’s short enough he doesn’t have to worry about hitting his head on the overhanging wood, or miffed that he’s shorter than four inches tall.

The conundrum is forgotten as he turns a corner and becomes face to face with clog, one that’s not blocking his way, but the toe of the shoe so close David could walk forward and shove at it.

Of course that wouldn’t do anything. The owner of the shoe wouldn’t even notice the attempt. With such a catastrophic object that he’s been terrified of ever since shrinking just staying in one place, it’s almost a slap in the face just how small he really is. He’s not even the size of a mouse that can easily clamber over the shoe. More like a large insect that would need to laboriously climb if it blocked his path completely.

...he didn’t even think about that. Giants are terrifying, but what if he encounters animals at this size? There’s no shooing away a rat or crushing a roach beneath his shoe, they’re now threats to him instead of nuisances.

Good news, as long as he doesn’t leave the restaurant, he should be perfectly safe. He ensured all pest had been eliminated on the first day, and has an exterminator on speed dial whenever someone reports having seen so much as a shadow creeping along the ground.

As for the giants, he can hope he doesn’t have to interact with one anytime soon.

“Is an oven finally open?”

“Everything that was cooking the previous round is done. Did you forget to pull the pizza’s out?”

Part of David wants to yell about how much those he hired are dumbasses to not check if something was left in the oven. The other part slumps in relief as the person standing at the island quickly leaves. The only condolence is the fact it doesn’t smell like something’s burning.

He needs to focus. Forget about what’s happening around him, concentrate on getting somewhere safe. Fire everyone later.

David looks across the vast distance from where he stands to the line of cabinets that connect to the pantry. This time, there isn’t a service cart to act as cover as he runs across. It’ll just be him, completely exposed.

He already feels himself begin to shake at the thought of making such a risky move. His muscles protest at running the large distance in which the only time he’d be able to stop is when he gets to the other side.

What if he doesn’t make it? What if someone walks by and never notices a miniscule figure? What if they do notice and trap him inside a jar? And what happens if he stays here? The toe kick is only four inches deep, that’s not enough space to guarantee safety.

David steels himself before carefully leaning out from under the counter. Looks up to barely make out the timer’s on the oven saying there’s ten minutes left. Glances at his left where the pantry sits, door shut tight with the lights currently off. Checks his right to see this area of the kitchen void of stomping shoes.

Go.

He doesn’t hesitate, knowing this might be his only chance, and sprints. Without a single look back to make sure no one’s coming. There would be nothing he could do, so he runs. Never slows down even as his legs burn from overexertion and his lungs send sharp pains through his chest.

Then the ground starts to jump. David can see he’s already past the halfway mark, but cover is still too far away. He can’t turn around and go back because that wouldn’t be any closer. And even as terror races up his spine and he feels his adrenaline kick in, it’s not enough. He would be an idiot to ever think he could outrun a giant.

He doesn’t stop. Though the footsteps growing closer and closer attempt to trip him with the earthquakes they bring. It’s a miracle they haven’t gotten to him.

Until someone gives a small gasp.

“Shit, there’s a bug in here.”

“Are you serious?”

David doesn’t stop. The counters are only ten feet away he’s almost there.

“I can’t tell what it is, but I need to finish this. Can someone take care of it?”

“I’ll get it, where is it?”

Just a few more-

The business man crashes into the counters at full tilt, not realizing he had actually made it. He swears he broke something this time. But he’s alive. He’s alive he made it he didn’t get crushed.

“It’s under the counters by the stove.”

It takes just a little too long for David to realize what that means. Stares out at the kitchen, almost confused why one pair of shoes is pointed directly toward him. Are taking steps toward him. Because he’s safe, he made it.

It finally clicks. That even though he is somewhere he deemed to be ‘safe’, someone saw him, and they’re coming to take care of the pest infesting an area that needs to be sanitary.

Once it finally processes David is far from safe, he scrambles to his feet even though he wants to do nothing more than to go limp. He doesn’t know what ‘take care of it’ means, but it can’t be anything good. Where is he supposed to go, though?

If he was in the right state of mind, the idea of going for the pantry would’ve been recognized as the worst thing he could possibly do. Panic can do so many things, however, and the only thing he could think of was his original plan. Meaning it was the only logical thing to do.

Yet just as he starts to turn and run in that direction, a hand grabs his wrist. Immediately has David turning to look at who it is, unable to remember why that shouldn’t be possible.

A teenager stares up at David with wide eyes, tugging at his arm in the opposite direction than was previously chosen. “Follow me, hurry!”

Any other time, David would refuse. This isn’t any other time, though. No, he was shrunk, had ran for his life, and is now being hunted down by a giant. So there’s not a single protest as he’s frantically led toward the ovens. Doesn’t hesitate a single second to continue following as he’s forced to hunch over to duck into the small area normally impossible to gain access to. Sends a look over his shoulder briefly to catch sight of someone searching all the wrong places for him.

Then the entire kitchen completely leaves his sight, and he’s left with an alien landscape of metal over his head and a dusty floor. The worst part is how it gets dimmer and dimmer the further they walk. But David is now completely safe from becoming an exotic pet or being treated like an unwanted pest. The teenager who saved him from such a horrific fate never letting his arm go.

That’s when everything starts to catch up with him. The terror of nearly dying. His limbs completely exhausted. No longer feeling dazed to finally process what just happened.

“Wait,” David begins, breathless as he comes to a stop. As soon as he does, however, his knees buckle and he sits harshly on the ground. Sighs in relief he can finally rest without the threat of ending up dead.

Instead of leaving him there, the kid immediately kneels down beside him. It’s almost impossible to make out features and expressions in the darkness, but a stranger wouldn’t be indifferent if the first instinct was to stay close. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

David shakes his head. “Not hurt. Just...ran for my life.”

“That’ll definitely do it,” the kid murmurs, his voice never raising above a whisper. “I have a safe place we can go, but we can stay here for a bit. We just need to be careful that we don’t overheat.”

...now that something was said, the business man realizes it is a bit hot where they are. Not burning, but definitely uncomfortable. Especially with the running he previously did and his jacket acting as the main perpetrator for making him overheat quicker than usual.

But he can survive a few minutes. By then he’ll be able to at the very least stand up again.

“Here, drink some water.”

David hadn’t noticed any movement until something is being offered to him. At the promise of it being water, he quicky accepts it, hesitating at the odd texture as his mind recognizes the shape of a cup. Decides it’s not worth making a fuss over and simply drinks.

It’s water, clean if a bit warm, but he can’t get over just what the fuck he’s using as a cup. “What, is this?”

“The wat- oh! The cup, it’s just aluminum foil.”

David stares at the shadowy figure for a moment. Glances up at the metal ‘roof’ above their heads to confirm they’re both only a few inches tall. “Where did you get aluminum foil?”

“Long story,” the kid says. “I can tell it to you later. Are you okay to start walking again?”

David doesn’t want to go anywhere with a complete stranger until he gets answers. Who is this kid? Why does he have supplies? Why was he in the kitchen near the ovens at this exact time?

It’d be a stupid idea to get on the kid’s bad side now. It was promised there is a safe place to go. So instead of earning himself a death sentence by being left here after making an enemy with the only person who can help him, David bites his tongue to keep from yelling.

Instead, he carefully stands up, nearly hitting his head on the oven after forgetting there’s not as much space as there was under the counters. “Lead the way.”

Out of everything, he was not expecting his arm to be grabbed again. “Just to warn you, it’s going to be pretty dark. But I know the way, and I’ve kept the path clear of rodents and insects, so it's not dangerous. Just, terrifying.”

Wonderful.

David has to grit his teeth to keep from sprinting in the opposite direction as he’s led to a fairly wide hole in the back of the cabinets. One that’s pitch black and promises a death worst than being treated like a roach.

Yet the kid doesn’t even stiffen before walking through it. Which means the business man isn’t declaring he’s not going anywhere near it if some teenager is able to be that courageous. Meaning he allows himself to be led down the tunnel without any objection, secretly glad the grip on his arm gets tighter to promise he won’t be let go.

They walk in complete silence. It amplifies the sound of their footsteps, but it also means they’ll be able to hear something making its way toward them. And then a faint glow appears in the darkness. Getting brighter the closer they get. David feels his chest get lighter when he’s finally able to see there’s a wall to his right, the wooden cabinets to his left, and absolutely no signs of eyes reflecting in the darkness behind him.

It’s also revealed their destination was a piece of cardboard.

“Come inside,” the kid encourages. Before David can demand what’s meant by inside, the cardboard is pushed open like a door.

Admittedly put off by it, David warily walks through the apparent doorway. Finds himself standing in what he can only describe as a third grader’s shitty attempt to make a diorama of their house for a school project. Complete with a bed that’s nothing but a pile of fabrics, a plastic pizza saver repurposed as a table, and odd $1 prizes the restaurant gives away in exchange for tickets scattered across the room that could be interpreted as anything. And he can’t forget to mention candles meant to be put on birthday cakes acting as lamps.

When he imagined a safe place, an odd hideout tucked in a corner impossible to access from the outside wasn’t it. Then again, what was he expecting?

After taking in the room, David turns back toward the person who brought him here, finally able to get a good look at the kid now that he isn’t fearing for his life. Looks over the mop of red hair, bright green eyes watching him nervously, the numerous freckles decorating the nose and cheeks. Gives a glance at the patched up clothes so dusty it’s hard to tell what their true colors are.

“I need answers, and I need them now,” David growls. “Who the hell are you?”

“My name’s Fritz,” the kid offers quietly. “You’re David, right?”

“Mr. Harrison,” is automatically corrected. But then the implication has him glaring. “Have we met before?”

“Briefly,” Fritz begins. “I...h-here, sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”

David isn’t given a chance to protest. The kid closes the poor excuse for a door before taking off a bag that wasn’t noticed previously to place it on the floor. A cardboard stool for the lack of a better term is then pushed toward him.

Fritz then grabs an odd vase that looks like it’s made of metal. Untwists the top before extending a hand toward David. “Would you like more water?”

He's confused, until he realizes he’s still holding the cup from earlier, one that looks like it’s made from the same material of the odd pitcher. Sighs as he hands it over to be refilled, it being abundantly clear Fritz is going to take his sweet goddamn time. David then carefully sits down, genuinely surprised the crude seat holds his weight. Begins to tap his fingers impatiently. Doesn’t think about how his legs appreciate the rest and how grateful he is for the water after such an arduous adventure.

“When and where did you shrink?”

David gives a look at the explanation starting with a question. “Not too long ago, about an hour or so. It happened right as I walked into the kitchen.”

“The same thing happened to me,” Fritz reveals as he stares down at the table. “I walked into the kitchen to take an order out to a table, and then I just...shrunk.”

David freezes. So this is apparently a thing that just happens? How is that even possible? Have other people been shrunk as well? Why didn’t he notice employees disappearing?

And why has Fritz stopped talking?

A sigh is withheld at the teenager looking as if he’s remembering something unpleasant. “And when did that happen?”

“A-A few months ago,” is barely said loud enough to be heard.

...wait. Hold on.

David wants to call bullshit. There’s no way someone only a few inches tall has managed to survive for a couple of months. David almost died within the first hour. Fritz has to be lying.

Except, the kid can’t be. The pilfered items scattered around the room seems more than what could be collected in a single day, or even in a full week. Fritz also looks underfed and exhausted. The long term kind. Like he really hasn’t had access to proper care for a while.

Suddenly, David feels sick to his stomach. At the thought someone could’ve been crushed under the sole of his own shoe, and he never would’ve known. At the realization that if Fritz shrank more than a month ago, and is still shrunk, then the business man’s future is bleak.

“So you have no idea what caused this.”

“Not a single clue.”

Then he really is stuck at this size for the rest of his life. However long that is.

David stares at Fritz. “What have you done during these past couple months?”

The teenager shrugs, looking everywhere but at the business man. “Surviving. The kitchen wasn’t the worst place to end up since I have access to food and water. After a month I ventured out into the main area after the restaurant closed. I couldn’t really go far, though. The animatronics could spot me, or I wouldn’t get back to safety before someone came in for the morning shift.”

A shiver travels down David’s spine at the thought of encountering the animatronics at this size. Quickly pushes the thought away for a different time. “And no one realized you were missing?”

Fritz flinches at his question. Finally meets his gaze with glossy eyes. “Did you?”

For the first time since he could remember, David feels remorse. For not knowing someone who worked for him vanished without a trace. A kid for that matter. Didn’t care because he fired people daily, what was one waiter out of the multiple he goes through in a single week. The worst part is that instead of someone going into debt or not being able to pay rent for the month, Fritz had been damned to this kind of hell.

Even though David would never have thought someone shrunk, he should be able to say he at least looked for Fritz. Make a missing report, check the cameras. If he had, who’s to say he wouldn’t have found the kid. Because attempts were most likely made to get someone’s attention. If David had been looking, would he have noticed?

David clears his throat. “I will not live like this.”

Fritz shuffles nervously. “Um, is there someone you could call?”

The business man almost scoffs before freezing. Because he does not like the idea at all. But it’s either call someone who can at least offer help, or live off of dropped crumbs in his own restaurant. And he’d rather die than take the second option.

“How the hell would we call-”

David cuts himself off. Doesn’t address Fritz’s confused look, too embarrassed to look the kid in the eye. Instead, he digs his phone out of his pocket. Blinks against the light much too artificial against what the candles emanate. Stares in disbelief he actually has service.

“Does it-?” Fritz begins, voice filled with awe. There’s no response to his question. David allows the screen to turn off as he stares at it.

Who should he call?

David doesn’t trust a single person on this earth except himself. That means he would have to completely rely on someone he normally wouldn’t even at six feet tall. And considering just how small he is, trusting the wrong person could end with his demise, even if that wasn’t their intention.

Alright, if he thinks about this logically, his best bet would be Scott. Because if anyone knows about dealing with the impossible, it’s the man who’s William’s lapdog.

...fuck, William.

David doesn’t know why it took him so long. His boss is a smart man, knows how to get what he wants. But he’s also created a monstrosity David wishes he never had the honor of meeting. And if William is capable of making something like a certain mutated grape he had first been told was a highly advanced AI, then shrinking someone wouldn’t be completely out of the question.

Why the fuck did William shrink him!

“Da- Mr. Harrison?” Fritz asks with a worried look at David’s hand clutching his phone like he wants to break it. “Are you okay?”

No, he is far from okay. Good thing he’s able to finally take his anger out. Scrolls through his contacts before selecting Scott’s phone number.

It takes a few moments for the call to actually do through, but it’s picked up on the first ring. “Hello, hello, David.”

“My restaurant, 8 o’clock sharp. William has given you quite the mess to clean up,” David snaps. Not in the mood for pleasantries. Even if Scott is a giant to him.

“I’m not a dog,” the sandy haired man growls. “I would also appreciate a little bit more information.”

“Come to the kitchen, watch where you step, and listen carefully. Is that enough information for you?”

“David, are you serious? At least tell me what Afton apparently did.”

“He apparently shrunk me so I’m shorter than four inches tall and currently hiding behind the cabinets,” the business man huffs.

Scott suddenly goes silent on the other end. When a minute passes, David checks his phone to make sure the call wasn’t dropped.

“I swear to God,” the older man breathes. “If you’re lying-”

“I’m not,” David interrupts. “8 o’clock, kitchen, watch where you step.”

“Stay safe until then.”

With that, they both hang up. And David’s met with Fritz looking a mixture of horrified, hopeful, and another emotion he can’t quite identify.

“I, I-I take it you know someone who can help?” the teenager asks.

Right. Fritz doesn’t know anything about the truth around Fazbear’s. Granted, it took David a few months to have a proper initiation, but he’s not a small fry employee. He has a lengthy contract that ensures his safety while working for the company. The teenager, on the other hand, is as disposable as the other night guards. If he’s being honest, William might’ve assumed the kid would’ve died within a few hours. Might’ve used him as a guinea pig.

Surviving multiple months at this size is something William would at least have to respect, right? Or, would that just prove the kid is a liability that needs to be silenced.

Now David’s faced with a choice. Have Scott meet Fritz, and they both confront William on getting the kid back to his normal size. Or, they play it safe, and David promises to find and care for Fritz once the business man is at his proper height.

One look at the resigned expression conquering Fritz’s face, and it seems like his thoughts were heard.

“Th-There’s still a few hours until 8. Would you like to rest for a bit?”

“You won’t leave this room, will you?” David finds himself asking. Not because he’s protective and genuinely worried for the kid who could get into trouble before help arrives. He’s certainly responsible over Fritz, though. Meaning he can’t let anything happen under his watch.

Fritz thinks it over for a moment. Nods his head. “I’ll stay here.”

David doesn’t say another word. He drinks the rest of the water, turns to the poor excuse of a bed, and flops heavily into it. Uncaring if the owner hadn’t meant to give him permission to claim it for a nap.

And if there was any objections, the business man was already falling asleep before he could hear them.

”You killed him.”

David whirls around to see Scott staring at him like he’s some kind of monster as they stand in a kitchen that’s all too familiar.

Anger flairs up, and the want to punch the shorter man in the face rises like a tide. He’s being judged like he’s some kind of murderer? What about Scott being best friends to a literal monstrosity? What about him following the orders of someone like William? What about the night guards?

“I haven’t killed anyone,” David snaps.

“Oh really?” Scott growls. “Someone didn’t disappear during a shift inside your own restaurant?”

The business man bristles. “How was I supposed to know! It’s not like I would’ve known he shrunk. And he’s a teenager, they always walk out without telling anyone and just refuse to show up for work the next day.”

“Do you know how many times he tried to get your attention? Tried to ask for help? Do you know how many times you ignored him?”

...is that true? Did Fritz make it all the way to his office at some point? Did David nearly crush him like an irate gnat? Unimportant and nothing but a distraction from his work?

“What about you? Don’t act so high and mighty when you have actual blood on your hands. How many guards died because your recordings didn’t tell them how to survive?”

“The difference,” Scott muses. “Is you feel guilty.”

That’s an implication he doesn’t like for numerous reasons. The confirmation Scott doesn’t care people die despite it being his fault. The truth David is remorseful to not notice someone vanishing from his own staff. That he was close to playing a large part in William’s game without even knowing it. That his actions do have consequences.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“Don’t lie to yourself. He’s only alive because he fought for his life. You still pulled the plug.”

“How was I supposed to know!” David shouts. “I didn’t ask for this! My job is to help the reputation of the company, nothing more! It’s not my fault William thrust this kind of responsibility on me!”

“Neither did I,” Scott says so condescendingly David's fists clench automatically. “You don’t see me mourning every guard that gets killed, do you?”

“You’re a sick bastard, you know that?”

“And you’re any better? Tell me, David, what’s the real reason you don’t want to bring him to Afton?”

“That’d be a death sentence.”

“Or it’d be his only salvation,” Scott shrugs. “Let’s look at the savior complex you currently have. If you’re truly worried Afton would kill him to tie up loose ends, then what? Would you actually take care of someone you barely know?”

David bristles. “Of course I would.”

“Oh?” and he’s this close to giving in a punching Scott. “As a person, or as a toy.”

He wouldn’t, no, David wouldn’t do that. He’s seen what it’s like being this small first hand. Nearly died numerous times, he wouldn’t offer Fritz help and only treat the kid like a desk trinket. Technically that would still be better than the way he’s currently living, but the business man wouldn’t do something like that. He’s an asshole but he’s not cruel.

Yet he can’t help thinking about what will happen a month from now. When Fritz becomes more of a burden than anything. The one thing David can’t stand are people who contribute nothing to this world. It wouldn’t be the kid’s fault, he didn’t ask to be shrunk, but old habits would die hard.

And David...he’ll forget what it’s like to be that small. Will stop being careful, won’t pay enough attention, and get upset if he’s told about his mistakes until-

“Well?” Scott probes as David refuses to answer. Makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat after the silence stretches on. “They deserve more, David.”

Now they’re talking about more than just Fritz. About the people he stepped on to get to where he is now. Everyone he’s fired from every business he’s helped in his career, uncaring about how it will affect their lives.

Actually, you know what, he’s calling bullshit. David deserved getting to where he is. He’s done nothing wrong, and Scott of all people has absolutely no right to judge him.

He gives into the temptation to wipe the goddamn smirk off the fossil’s face. Raises a hand as he steps forward to grab Scott’s shirt.

Feels his heart stop when he hears a soft scream before it’s suddenly cut off.

...no.

He doesn’t dare look down at his shoe. Can only stare at Scott sighing long and hard with a sad shake of his head. “I tried to warn you, David.”

No.

“I didn’t.” Panic starts welling up inside him, his breathing getting shorter and shorter. “H-He’s not, I didn’t-”

“You did.”

No!

The words are only stated matter-of-factly. As if he didn’t just kill Fritz. After surviving on his own for months, and the kid’s fatal mistake was saving David’s life.

”Was it worth it, David?”

“No!”

David jolts awake, gasping for air before a panicked yell rises in his throat when all that greets him is pure darkness. Where is he, where’s Scott, and where’s-

“David?” a voice suddenly calls. One the business man almost lunges at to confirm it’s real it has to be real he didn’t kill Fritz. “Oh, the light, sorry! Hold on, I’ll light one.”

It sounds like actual footsteps and someone moving things around. But without being able to even see his own hands right in front of him, David can’t help but think his talk with Scott was reality and this is the dream. A sick and twisted nightmare where he’ll be forced to hear the kid, but never see him.

Then there’s sparks, and a flame appears to reveal a corner of the room, as well as a short figure with red hair.

Offers an apologetic smile before it turns into concern. “Dav- Mr. Harrison, are you okay?”

Fritz is alive. Fritz is alive.

David watches for a moment to ensure the kid doesn’t disappear. Once he determines it won’t happen, he flops back into the nest of fabric. Remembers lying down to take a nap. And the promise Fritz wouldn’t leave the room without him.

“Just...wasn’t expecting to wake up to an empty void,” he manages to grumble.

“Sorry,” Fritz repeats. “I just didn’t want to waste the light. But I forgot you wouldn’t be used to it.”

David doesn’t respond. Too drained to do anything more than watch Fritz’s silhouette walk around the room. Almost looking like he’s packing things into the bag from earlier. Realizes he doesn’t know how long he slept for, reaching out to his right to tap on his phone screen.

7:50pm. The restaurant is closed, everyone on staff should be on their way home after getting everything cleaned, and Scott will be arriving soon.

Fritz clears his throat. “Would you like to head back to the kitchen to meet your friend?”

David’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach for more reasons than one. But he forces himself to stand up. Glances at his phone’s battery at 50%. “I’ll lead the way this time.”

That earns him an incredulous look before he turns on the phone’s flashlight. Fritz jumping back in surprise manages to make his lips curl up. After the scare, the kid beams. “That’s so much better then carrying a candle.”

“Of course it- you've carried a lit candle around?” David demands once he processes the full sentence, sending a glare after the kid as he puts out the flame.

“It was the only way to see until I got really familiar with the path,” Fritz explains. “I didn’t have a phone, and no one realizes when a pack of birthday candles from a box of hundreds goes missing.”

Some people would be impressed by the lengths that were gone to adapt. David’s only thinking about how it’s a miracle Fritz didn’t accidentally kill himself by his own stupidity.

Instead of validating what he was told with a response, the business man makes his way to the ‘door’, Fritz taking the initiative to open it and then close it behind them. Then they slowly walk down the dark path that’s barely illuminated by the week flashlight, but it keeps the darkness from becoming suffocating. It does nothing to calm David’s thoughts, however. Not just his terror on facing Scott at this size, but about what he should do concerning Fritz.

“Fritz, did you ever try to get my attention after you shrunk?”

“...a few times.”

David suddenly stops. Feels Fritz bump into him before the teenager quickly steps back. He then turns so the light shines on both of them.

Stares down at someone who has every right to yell and scream at him. Every right to hate David for not being there. For leaving him for dead when his life was on the line in the business man’s own restaurant. Failing to make up for his mistake when there were multiple opportunities if he just paid attention.

Fritz doesn’t glare or even look upset now that the truth is out. The kid just looks...patient. Not entirely resigned, but not hopeful either. Just, waiting.

“You recognized me when you saved me,” David says. Earns a nod for confirmation. “So why did you?”

Fritz becomes panicked. “Why wouldn’t I? They could’ve killed you, I couldn’t let that happen!”

And that’s when David realizes that even if Fritz was angry that his calls for help were never answered, the kid is nothing but selfless. Was willing to save someone who by every definition didn’t deserve it. Give up his resources even with no promise to be repaid for it.

...unless he’s been hoping David is his only ticket out.

“I don’t think there will be a way to grow you to your normal height.”

There. He ripped the band-aid off. It was going to happen at some point. It’s best if the kid knows now so he doesn’t waste anymore of his time. Yell that he never should’ve saved David if he wasn’t at the very least going to finally escape from this hell.

Fritz jolts like he was electrocuted. Stares at David for a moment as his green eyes well up with tears. Curls in on himself as he looks at the floor. “O-Oh.”

Silence.

The kid takes a deep breath, wiping his eyes before looking up again. “Um, would y-you...do you still have a chance?”

...what?

“I...I guess I had a feeling,” Fritz continues, voice shaky. “I mean, n-no one was looking for me, and after a week it seemed like this was...permanent. I-I didn’t want it to happen to anyone else, though. As terrifying as it’s been, no one deserves this. You don’t think you’re stuck too, do you?”

It’s said with such a genuine tone of concern. Not for himself. Purely for David.

“I don’t know,” the business man says.

Fritz straightens up. “Th-Then we shouldn’t miss your friend if it’s your only chance!”

David is a bit too stunned to do anything but allow the kid to grab his arm and guide him down the tunnel. Immediately ducks his head once they exit the hole and make their way into the main part of the kitchen from under the oven.

“David?”

Both of them freeze at the booming voice calling for the shrunken man. All at once, the terror he felt a few hours ago comes rushing up, and it demands he stays as still and quite as possible.

“David, are you in here?”

Fritz slowly comes back to life at the sound of Scott growing worried. Tugs at David’s arm until the business man starts to follow again. “Y-You trust him, right?”

It’s a miracle the whispered words weren’t drowned out by the sound of fabric moving. “I-I do.”

Not much. But enough.

“David,” Scott rumbles, impatience seeping into his tone and causing the two to flinch. “I’m not in the mood for games.”

They make it to the toe kick. Blink against the blinding light until they can finally make out the towering figure standing by the kitchen door.

At this angle, David can see Scott entirely. From his sandy hair, to the obscure band t-shirt, to the black converse shoes. Despite the distance, there’s no denying the man normally half a foot shorter than him is a giant who’s shoes could crush him. Hands with fingers longer than he is tall. Hazel eyes similar to his own as big as his head.

Ones that are narrowed in their direction.

“David?”

Oh shit.

Scott is suddenly walking toward them. Fritz immediately flattens himself against the counters. David, on the other hand, wasn’t quick enough and ends up falling onto his back from the earthquakes.

“Please don’t be a large insect...”

Look, David is genuinely terrified. But he can’t stop the feeling of indignation surging through him, finding himself sitting up with a glare meant for Scott for comparing him to a bug.

It vanishes when a hand slams down a few feet away, a face the size of a billboard leaning down, the massive being going completely still when their eyes meet.

“Oh my God,” has David recoil when the simple action of Scott talking ruffles his hair and suit. “David?”

“Sc-Scott,” the business man manages. Feels his entire body trembling. “It’s me, I-”

He hadn’t seen it coming. Even though Scott set his hand down close by, David thought he would be able to get out of the way in time. He didn’t even see it lift off the ground. One moment it seems harmless, the next fingers are curling around him.

“No, don’t-!”

David frantically attempts to scramble away as fear claws at his throat. But he's too slow, much too slow. A thumb the size of his torso settles on his chest at the same time another digit folds over his legs. He shoves with all his might to try and get the finger pinning him down away from him, gasping in pain when it only presses harder, forcing the air out of his lungs.

Then vertigo makes his stomach flip. Meaning he’s being lifted up. Away from the ground, from safety, closer to the giant that’s staring at him like he’s the most interesting thing in the world.

Don’t kill me, please don’t kill me.

“I can’t believe it,” Scott breathes. “He actually shrunk you.”

David gasps as the grip gets tighter, shoving at the thumb and kicking his legs in the hope he can escape. “Scott...tight!”

“S-Sir, you’re hurting him!”

Everything freezes.

“Wha-?” the giant mutters intelligently, and all David can see is Scott’s eyes looking at something down on the ground. Lets out a strangled yell when he’s squeezed suddenly. Pain erupting at the feeling like he was punched in the stomach and chest.

“Open your hand!”

David chokes on air as the thumb is finally lifted, curls onto his side as he just concentrates on breathing he can finally breathe.

He sends a glare up at the giant watching him with a troubled look as soon as he can think again. “What, the fuck, Scott?”

“I’m sorry,” the sandy haired man apologizes. As if it makes everything better. “I hadn’t realized. Are you hurt?”

He chose the wrong person to trust. “Put me down!”

Scott seems apprehensive. But then the hand is lowering, and David suddenly remembers Fritz once the kid comes into his line of sight. Had completely forgotten about everything that happened before a hand attempted to squeeze him to death.

Bad news, his limbs are too shaky to get him away from the giant who’s proven himself to be deadly. Worse news, Fritz comes running over from the safety of the cabinets despite the fact Scott nearly killed David within the first five minutes.

“Are you ok-k-kay?” the kid whispers, sending a fearful look up at Scott every other second. Offers a hand that’s immediately taken to help sit David up. Gently pats at his chest before recoiling at a painful groan. “Did anything break?”

“Did anything break?” Scott repeats, at the very least sounding remorseful.

“No, nothing broke. But I couldn’t, breathe for a good minute,” David snaps with a wheeze. “Now I owe Fritz for saving my life twice.”

David was not expecting the weirdest part of his day to watch pupils dilate, unable to help watching in fascination as the brown ring seemingly retracts to reveal an almost gold color.

Then cold fear races down his back at the realization Scott is looking at Fritz. “Twice?”

The giant better not touch the kid. “It’s been a long day.”

“I’ve got time to hear about it,” Scott says, doing a great impression of a thunder storm. Looks between them for a moment. Makes David curse and Fritz jump away when fingers curl in closer. “God, you make me feel like a monster.”

“You almost crushed me!”

“Your size,” the giant clarifies with a scowl. And despite the revelation of just how big the man is to them, Scott fails to connect the dots such a seemingly harmless expression only meant to show his frustration makes David shake from the thought there will be retaliation he’ll have no way to defend himself against. “But you’re right, I got grabby when I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry. Let’s, start from the beginning.”

“Fritz help me get down.”

The kid slowly approaches Scott’s hand again. Grabs David’s arm even as he trembles to help the business man down the surprisingly high platform a palm makes. Nearly collapses onto Fritz when his legs give out because he’s still not at 100%. He’s on the fence whether to feel grateful or fearful of the finger offering assistance to get him standing upright.

But Scott completely withdrawals his hand once David’s knees aren’t threatening to buckle. And with it, warmth the business man hadn’t realized was keeping the chill of the room at bay.

David takes a deep breath. Well, as much as he can without it becoming painful. Looks up at Scott towering over them even while kneeling. “I shrunk the moment I walked into the kitchen, and apparently I wasn’t the first one. The same thing happened to Fritz a few months ago, and he managed to keep me from getting squashed because the staff mistook me for a roach.”

Scott’s jaw drops. “Months?”

Not what David thought the sandy haired man would latch onto. Then again, it’s not hard to see the kid is just a teenager. He thought the revelation of William shrinking any and all employees would be the most concerning part. But, this is only new to the business man. Scott’s been with the company long enough to be far too familiar with these kinds of scenarios. That anyone’s up for grabs with experiments, not the shrinking.

David nods, because he has no reason to not believe the timeline. “Does that mean anything to you?”

Scott hesitates. Looks at the kid cowering in his shadow. “It sounds like he was the first field test if I’m being honest. Did anyone come looking for you?”

Fritz jumps when David elbows him, giving a small ‘oh!’ realizing the question was directed at him. “Um-m-m, no one called my name. Or, looked under the cabinets. I-I just, I remember a shadow when I first left the kitchen.”

That sounds like Vincent. And Scott wincing just proves it. “So he was the guinea pig.”

“He was,” Scott confirms. “I don't understand why Afton would make such a risky move. His parents would’ve-”

David doesn't catch it until the giant stops talking. But Fritz’s head is...shaking. “Not my parents...”

And that’s why David never received a phone call about someone missing while working a shift at his restaurant. Why Fritz vanished and no one really noticed. The kid was so unimportant no one would care if he was dead.

David clears his throat. “Do you think William can grow Fritz back to his normal height?”

“I-I’m okay Mr. Harrison,” is said at the same time Scott sighs. He pretends he didn’t hear it.

“Even if he’d be willing to, I don’t think he can. If it took months to shrink you after shrinking him, it meant results he got in his lab weren’t the same as when Fritz shrunk. Meaning he had to make a few adjustments.”

Meaning the kid is most likely permanently this size.

Fritz doesn’t make a single sound. Scott’s careful not to betray any emotion.

“Take us both to William,” David commands.

“Mr-”

“You are my responsibility,” the business man growls down at the kid. “Don’t be a dumbass. We’ll see if he can get you back to your proper height no matter how short it is. If he can’t, we’ll go from there. But you won’t be leaving my side to get crushed like a bug or end up as somethings dinner, understood?”

Fritz stares up at him in shock. Like he was fully expecting to get left behind despite everything he’s done. And, if they’re being honest, that had been a genuine possibility. But David owes the kid his life. Besides, if he ever suggested not bringing Fritz along to fend for himself however long they’d be gone, Scott would kill him.

That’s the only reason.

A small but hopeful smile tugs on Fritz’s mouth. “Understood.”

“Wonderful. Scott, set your hand down and we’ll walk on,” David directs. “Don’t grab us.”

“I learned my lesson,” Scott murmurs as he sets a hand down palm up in front of them.

He absolutely hates the idea of willingly putting his life in the hands of the giant. It’s the only way to get to William and demand their rightful size back, though. So with clenched teeth and fists, David steps up onto a middle finger almost as thick as he is.

One that twitches and sends him tumbling.

David scrambles to try and sit up, arms raising to protect himself from the bone crushing curling fingers. “Scott please don’t!”

The hand opens again. “That was reflex, I apologize. I wasn’t trying to pin you, I swear.”

David kicks at the nearest digit, sending a fierce glare up at Scott. “I’m starting to think even Fritz would be a better giant than you.”

“I don’t have a guide on what to do when I find someone who was shrunk,” the sandy haired man defends. “This is new for both of us. And I don’t think you realize how ticklish you can be.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You feel like a large bug crawling into my hand,” Scott smirks. Before David can protest, the giant looks away, face softening. “He’s okay, Fritz. Just a little rumpled.”

“Way to scare the kid,” the business man grumbles as he sits up. Sees Fritz shaking like a leaf with skin so pale his freckles look like they’ll jump right off of him. “It’s safe, Fritz, Scott’s just a dumbass.”

A small step forward as the strap to the bag is held in a white-knuckle grip. A careful step up onto Scott’s first finger. A fearful glance at the giant before another tentative step. There’s a shuddering breath as Fritz continues onto the hand until he makes it to Scott’s palm and immediately sits down. Curls up in a tight ball as he looks around in terror, expecting the fingers to snap shut around them at any moment.

David slaps at the giant’s thumb. “Why didn’t you trip him?”

“I was expecting it that time,” Scott grouses. “Unlike some people, I learn from my mistakes.”

He doesn’t try and refute the claim. Not when he latches onto the fact that Scott now holds both of them. To do whatever he wants with. Put them in a pocket to take home instead of William. Close his hand until he crushes them mercilessly. Trips while walking and let them fall a hundred feet to the unforgiving ground.

“Ready?” shakes him to his very core.

...Scott will keep them safe.

David nods once. Gasps when the hand lifts up way too quickly, gravity flattening him against the palm. Yelps and the same time Fritz shrieks when the ride up suddenly stops, leaving both of them lifting into the air before falling back down.

This was the worst idea he’s ever had why did they ever trust a giant.

“Are you two okay?” Scott asks, sounding confused as to why he earned such terrified reactions.

“You...have no idea how physics works, do you?” David breathes, trying to get his heart to calm back down from the scare.

Scott stares before his eyes widen, making a soft ‘ah’. “Was I too fast?”

"Both starting and stopping.” He looks over at Fritz, relieved the kid at least doesn’t seem traumatized.

“I’ll go slower,” Scott reassures. This time, the giant doesn’t wait for confirmation they’re ready, instead starts to stand up without warning.

It feels like David’s stomach got left far behind, and he doesn’t dare try to look over the edge of the hand. But to Scott’s credit, he’s much slower. Careful to not abruptly stop so it feels like they’ll go flying. When they don’t scream again, the giant takes it as a que to continue on his journey. Turns slowly, but wind still tussles their clothes and hair. Footsteps jostle them so harshly it feels like their teeth might crack.

“Feeling okay?” Scott asks.

“Fine,” David spits out, not wanting to be reminded he’s being held tens of feet above the ground, completely vulnerable to someone he barely trusts on a good day. Catches sight of Fritz looking ten times worse than him, eyes shut tight and holding his knees as close as possible like his life depends on it. “Fritz?”

“H-H-Heights,” is all the kid can say.

That must be the worst phobia to have while shrunk. Scott’s sympathetic look says the giant agrees. “If there’s anything I can do to make it better-”

Scott doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Because the second he steps through the kitchen doorway, David’s falling. Lands before he can try to scream. Braces himself for nothing but blinding hot pain.

Nothing happens. When he opens his eyes, he sees Scott sitting on the ground, hand on his head as he groans from pain. And the sandy haired man is his size.

What the fuck just happened?

David pats down his chest. Winces at the pain from it still tender from Scott squeezing him, but other than that, he’s perfectly fine. No broken bones. No ruptured organs. He’s unhurt, and most importantly, he’s six feet tall again.

...where’s Fritz?

“Fritz?” David calls. Looks to his right and left. Next to Scott. But the hallways void of the teenager. Meaning he didn’t grow back to his normal height. “Fritz?”

“David?” Scott blinks. Gasps when it hits him David grew. “How-?

“Where’s Fritz?” the business man demands. Looks at hands completely empty of miniscule figures. Feels his heart clench at the thought the kid fell. “Scott where’s Fritz?”

The sandy haired man gapes at him. Once it processes, once he realizes what it means to not know where the kid is, his eyes dart across the floor. “I don’t know. I didn’t even see what happened, I was just knocked into the wall.”

“Fritz,” David all but pleads. Not daring to move. Afraid he won’t see the kid if he does. Afraid what he might find. “Don’t be an idiot, tell us where you are, kid.”

“M-M-M-”

His eyes snap over to the kitchen door at the softest sound he’ll ever encounter. Stares unblinkingly at the tiny figure trying its hardest to become part of the wall. Breathes a sigh of relief when it doesn’t disappear and the familiar features of red hair and a bag over the shoulder confirms it’s Fritz. The kid’s alive, the kid’s alive.

“You dumbass,” David berates as he turns toward Fritz, careful to go as slow as possible to not spook him, especially with how the poor kid looks like he’s going to bolt at any moment. Trembling so badly it’s impossible to miss despite how small he is.

Was David really that size? So miniscule that a strong breeze could knock him over? Not even as tall as one of the checkered tiles on the floor? It makes him want to do nothing more than pick Fritz up so he’s safe from everything that could possibly hurt him. David is all too familiar with how dangerous it is to be alone on the ground.

“Took you long enough.”

The voice makes David’s skin crawl. After checking to make sure Fritz won't move, he looks down the hallway to see a living shadow standing a few feet away.

“What the hell do you want?” the business man growls, not happy Vincent decided to show up. What a fantastic end to the worst day of his life.

“I was just going to make sure you didn’t lock yourself in the kitchen all night,” the purple man shrugs. “I assumed you didn’t want to stay three inches tall for a full 24 hours.”

That sick son of a bitch. “You mean to tell me that if I had gone right back through that goddamn door, I wouldn’t immediately grown again?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

David’s head snaps over to give Scott a seething glare, silently demanding he take responsibility over his mutated grape. The sandy haired man sighs, fixing Vincent with an unimpressed look. “Was Afton’s intention to put David’s life in danger?”

“Not at all. But accidents happen, and David deciding to go into the kitchen in the middle of a rush instead of during his rounds after the restaurant's been locked up was just unfortunate timing.”

“Unfortunate?” David seethes. “I was nearly killed! Several times! Why didn’t you come to save me!”

“I wasn’t around to help,” Vincent smiles and fuck him. “Besides, it was a happy accident. We’ve been trying to get your companion to come out of hiding for a while now, so I’ll just be taking him and be on my way.”

Companion? Who-?

David’s hand hovers protectively over Fritz. “And what exactly will you do with him?”

“A few tests, a physical, a questionnaire,” Vincent lists. “After that, he no longer has any use.”

That means Fritz is disposable. After surviving for so long, and is only reward is to be killed once William gets all of the information he wants.

“You won’t return him to his proper size?” David questions.

“Can’t,” Vincent says. “Though, if it was possible, he’s a liability, and we can’t have that. You know that, David.”

Maybe he does. Because that was why he was hesitant about bringing Fritz to William. The cruel man can’t let experiments wonder around. Not with the possibility it can be traced back to Fazbear’s.

And maybe he doesn’t really give a shit what William wants. “Then he won’t be leaving with you.”

“It’s not a choice, David.”

“He’s not hurting anyone, Vince,” Scott pipes up, and the sandy haired man might not be as heartless as originally thought. “He’ll stay within the company, David and I will make sure no one gets their hands on him.”

“It’s a bit too risky for William, Scotty. What he says goes.”

“He’s my employee,” David counters. Barely holds back a flinch as amber eyes lock on him with a death stare. The kind that says he’s pushing it. “He got shrunk in my restaurant under my payroll. That means I have first say. And I say he’ll stay here, completely out of the public eye. No one will know he exists.”

Vincent stares at him for a long moment. David is expecting a knife to slice his throat open at any second.

The purple man hums. “I will inform William. I may return with orders that it’s your life, or his.”

They can’t give a response, not when Vincent disappears into the shadows. He fucking hates that thing.

“Afton’s going to make you pay for that,” Scott huffs.

“I already can’t go into my own damn kitchen without shrinking,” David growls. “I think I’ve paid plenty.”

He then ignores Scott completely, turns to Fritz cowering under his hand. Glad the kid didn’t make a break for it, because who knows if that would’ve triggered the mutated grape into hunting him down.

“Back to you being a dumbass. If I call your name, you better answer, or else I think you’re dead. Are we clear?”

Fritz seems to look down in shame, but he nods his head in agreement. “Yes, s-sir.”

David sets his hand in front of the kid. Curls his fingers in twice as a command for Fritz to climb on. “We’re getting you some proper food, and then we’ll talk about arrangements.”

There’s hesitation. “You...y-you’re letting me stay?”

“And making sure you’re properly taken care of,” David says. “It won’t be perfect, but you won’t have to risk your neck just to survive.”

It’s the least he can do. Fritz has more than earned it. And the kid doesn’t deserve to die by William’s hand after surviving against all the odds.

Miniscule shoes walk across his fingers, David smirking at the fact Fritz isn’t even as tall as his thumb. And unlike Scott, there’s no twitching to send the kid tumbling. Slowly lifts his hand up until they’re eye level without any turbulence.

If he didn’t know Fritz was there, it’d be hard to feel the miniscule weight of an entire person in his hand. But the kid is here. Terrified, refusing to look anywhere except the palm he’s sitting in, breathing short and quick,

Instead of an overwhelming sense of power, all David feels is the need to protect.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t lift a finger to nudge at the kid, absolutely fascinated by the miniscule movements of surprise. He could definitely get used to this.

With the confirmation Fritz is alright, David tucks his hand against his chest before carefully standing up. Looks over at Scott standing up as well and dusting himself off. “Scott, grab a pizza and meet us in the main area.”

“You can’t grab one?” Scott questions.

“Not unless you want me shrinking again,” the business man responds as he slowly walks down the hallway.

He hears a soft ‘I might’, followed by the sound of his request being heeded. Leaving him to glance down to make sure he isn’t jostling Fritz too much.

David didn’t expect the kid to be looking back at him. “I’m not as bad as Scott, am I?”

Fritz jolts. “N-No! I mean, he wasn’t bad. Just not...cautious?”

“He was the worst giant we could’ve asked for,” David declares.

That earns him a smile. “I wanted to say thank you.”

This isn't something that earns him a ‘thank you’. This is making up for not being there when Fritz needed him. But he will be working hard for it.

“I should be thanking you.”

#...no comment #but I hope ya'll enjoy it!#have a great weekend!!#FNAF bois #g/t #giant #tiny #BTE writing #A Little Bit Goes A Long Way #cw #content warning

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lynpheas · 6 months

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vy my beloved big brained winx mutual you simply must ramble about the platonic winx/specialists dynamics i'm actually begging you </3 aldhgl

like,, which ones are your favorite and why! which ones do you want to see more of in canon! which ones are you definitely sure would be great but have zero canon evidence for (tecna helia dynamics my beloved ueghhhh)

THANK YOU FOR ASKING! YOU WILL RECEIVE!

i'm a huge huge huge sucker for platonic friendships and i think the biggest personal attack winx club canon has made on ME, vy lynpheas, is that they never really develop... platonic winx and specialist relationships ☹️ i haven't seen s1-3 in a long while but i just rewatched s4 and i'm wracking my brain trying to remember any platonic interactions between the winx and their non-boyfriend specialists. & i got nothing. when there was a 30 second interaction in s5 between sky and flora right before sky got amnesia, my 12 year old self thought about it for months i swear 😭

so i'm just gonna throw out a bunch of fun random pairings i like and how i think their friendship would work because my basic assumption is that EVERYONE is friends with EVERYONE because i want them to be!!!

(also i wrote most of this in oct 2023 and forgot about it but if anyone wants to ask me abt any more platonic pairings i would be so so so down 😭😭)

tecna & riven

okay this dynamic i have a lot of fun thinking about just bc tecna is musa's roommate so she deals with riven on a diff level than the other girls

i think esp early tecna would tend to make snap judgments of people & she immediately thinks riven is like. rude and immature and so everything he does after that point is framed through that lens. & i think riven is primarily motivated by his emotions (at least in terms of his interpersonal relationships) and tecna who is more "logic" based so she doesn't really understand why he acts the way he does. (i put logic in quotes because i do think tecna is biased toward her feelings when it comes to interpersonal relationships, but she sorta confirmation biases herself into thinking her judgment is more factual) & so i think their relationship begins as being vaguely antagonistic/indifferent (ie tecna making snarky comments to the side and riven being like. offended but kinda writing it off by acting like he just doesn't care about tecna), especially because she doesn't see why musa would like such a jerk and thinks musa deserves better.

then i think because of proximity and just facing a lot of mortally perilous conflict together, tecna begins to respect/sympathize with riven a lot more as a strategist because riven is actually like. pretty contemplative about his next moves, and she sees how his abrasive personality obfuscates that and leads to the specialist squad initially just. bulldozing over his ideas bc they're like "oh riven's just an asshole all the time let's go with sky's plan." and i think riven begins to really appreciate and respect tecna's tactical skills but also be slightly envious of how the winx do rely on tecna and trust her judgment. and he tries to learn from her approach: more levelheaded suggestions rather than condescending/combative remarks to express his ideas.

& i think riven's really good friends with timmy (they might be roommates in s1? i don't know if i made that up tho) so when tecna starts showing up more often & he can tell she's very important to timmy, riven makes an effort to be less rude and standoffish toward her, although still awkward. i think this is what especially shatters tecna's preconceptions about riven bc besides her relationship with timmy, he doesn't have any real reason to make nice with her -- especially after she's been pretty rude to him about him and musa.

and then they become pretty decent friends! maybe not super emotionally intimate, but they like, advocate for each other. tecna really utilizes riven's skillsets in her plans and makes sure he isn't overlooked & riven gets more protective over tecna bc he's like. this girl is smart and capable. and even when they don't always see eye-to-eye, she's very kind in her own non-traditional way.

musa & timmy

between riven and tecna, musa sees a Lot of timmy. i think as riven and tecna stop being as icy with one another, the four of them hang out as a group a lot. musa can kinda be the odd one out at times, because tecna and timmy can technobabble together a lot but if they veer into. hovercrafts or battle strategy riven and tecna can get Really into it with each other bc they agree on enough to not argue but have enough strong contrasting opinions to have very spirited conversations. so musa can kinda sit back and watch as timmy gets ousted from the convo and they have solidarity in that LMAO

they're both very chill and timmy is just. super curious about all of musa's hobbies and interests bc he doesn't know Anything abt music or anything. & i feel like timmy is an edm/techno/trap kinda guy & i hc that musa freelance djs at clubs and parties. so timmy is like fascinated by the mechanics of all of that and musa loves talking about music in any capacity so they reach common ground through that. and in turn musa gets interested in like, hovercraft mechanic convos and videogame lore that also helps musa better connect with riven and tecna!!

& i think these conversations evolve into. timmy tagging along with musa to raves LOL like they party it UP together!!! like timmy is pretty self-conscious and awkward at first, but musa really shows him that dancing/enjoying music isn't about how you look or acting cool -- it's just about having fun. and it really brings him out of his shell. timmy's got his white boy dance moves!!! riven goes to musa's shows sometimes but edm gives him a headache and most of the girls like to party but they're not into the subculture at all so they're not consistent participants. but timmy is a yes-man! he always wants to come!

& timmy and musa get fairly close because of this! timmy is such a huge hype man and occasional technician for musa and musa knows she can always rely on timmy to show up for her! and they just learn a lot from each other!

plus because they're both close with the other's respective partners, they like to go to the other for relationship advice because they'll get some unique insight into the problems they're facing. timmy is a huge riven-is-just-misunderstood advocate and musa knows tecna's ins and outs.

musa & timmy besties agenda <3 like i really really just love the idea of their friendship

aisha & riven

this is the only non-romantically involved winx/specialist combo i had actual recollection of interacting before i did my rewatch tbh. or i guess also riven and bloom. riven is just a very notable character LMFAO

anyways, aisha is hyper-independent and riven is prickly and easy to misjudge so. aisha doesn't fuck with him very much at first BUT when she comes into the winx's life she didn't firsthand experience riven double-crossing them w the trix. so she's an asshole to him for like. "i think you're kind of a loser and i don't like men that much in general" reasons instead of "you have personally wronged me" reasons. she challenges him to petty stuff because she likes poking the bear and she finds it kind of entertaining to see him get annoyed and want to prove himself for the sake of his ego, but eventually she just starts genuinely thinking that riven's a pretty decent guy. like, he never tries to undermine her for her skills, he just wants to match and surpass her. and he simultaneously respects her authority but also respects her enough to disagree with her and involve her in certain decisions, where she's used to having to put her foot down to assert herself.

at first riven really just. does not care that there's a new winx girl bc besides musa and maybe bloom they're all kinda the same to him. but then aisha is just kinda mean to him and temporarily hogs his hoverbike so he starts actively disliking her but underneath it all begrudgingly respects her. THEN he finds out she and musa are getting really close and she's actually a princess and he sees her put sky in his place over smth that wouldve irritated the fuck out of riven privately -- and he just starts to really like and respect her.

at first, aisha just likes to aggravate riven bc she initially thinks he's kind of standoffish and takes himself too seriously. so they'll be walking with the group and she'll all of a sudden be like "bet i can reach that tree faster than you" and riven's like "what are you talking about" "so you know you're gonna lose?" "uh, fuck no, you're on" and suddenly they're sprinting past everyone else and leaving them in the dust. but aisha tends to win these little competitions and eventually after she starts genuinely liking riven, she gets bored of trying to get a rise out of him. but riven still thinks she's cool asf and wants her to realize that he's actually Not A Loser so he's the one that ends up instigating more often.

their friendship is mostly characterized by them just. egging each other on. bet you can't do more hoverboard tricks than me. bet you can't do a backflip on the spot. bet you can't tell musa you haven't listened to her mixtape yet. bet you can't let stella give you a makeover. bet you can't swing from that vine across that canyon. holy shit riven ur lucky i have wings otherwise you would've died. nah i knew i could trust you.

like honestly riven is basically just aisha and tecna's kid brother. with aisha specifically he just rly wants to prove himself to her lmfao. little does he know, aisha already thinks he's cool but she will never ever ever tell him that.

stella & sky

so canonically stella has probably never met sky before red fountain in order to be able to pull off the whole name-switch situation, but i think it'd be fun if they had at least some awareness of each other before going to school from being the royals of their respective realms. like you can't tell me they've never attended the princess balls of some realm that's mutually allied with eraklyon and solaria! if anything, as his squire, brandon and sky must've always attended events together and been so close/tight-knit that a lot of people weren't exactly sure who was who, just that the duo themselves were sky and his squire. (because sky also barely looks like his parents lmfao)

i like to think that stella is extremely put off by sky for multiple reasons, including that he ultimately fucked up her relationship and completely broke bloom's trust. and pettily she sorta vows to make sure solaria and eraklyon never have good relations ever again. sky's like. well, can't let that happen + i need to be on stella's good side for the sake of brandon/bloom

and i think this results in him just like !! slowly trying to initiate a relationship with stella, like if he agrees with her about something he'll go out of his way to make it known he agrees with her. and just making comments and stuff to get on her good side

and stella sees right thru this lmfao she's like ok... i see your game... and i don't respect it... but she fully just leans into it and if sky is saying some kind of affirmative to an outrageous idea she has she's just like ok bet. put your money where your mouth is

which is how sky ends up in a lot of ridiculous situations because of stella like maybe during a mission stella suggests going down a path everyone else is hesitant about, and sky is also hesitant but he doesn't necessarily DISagree with her so he loudly corroborates her plan and then. it's just the two of them who get sent down that path and then get fucking eaten by a venus flytrap monster or smth idk. or sky ends up being stella's mannequin for like 12 hours straight while she figures out draping. or he ends up accompanying her to a stuffy ball where everyone around her is condescending her

and then eventually they'll just have more and more moments where they're spending time together like one on one and theyre like???? hey we actually do have a lot in common because of our upbringings and we can give each other diff perspectives about how to deal with the expectations that were imposed on us growing up

like stella has reacted to being in the spotlight as a princess by being aggressively and unapologetically herself. shes not afraid of fucking up but shes like inifinitely empathetic and kindhearted. sky is kinda the opposite where he's always tried to mold himself into expectations and really lean into this idea of being a leader-prince charming type guy. and basically they teach each other how to Be A Royal in a way that allows them to be their truest selves. like sky helps stella figure out how to use Royalty Etiquette and Rules to get her way and stella helps sky figure out how to let loose and not be so bogged down by duty all the time

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