#even all might's advice of 'save people to win' and 'win to save people' was an extension of all of this

[chimimon]

What Gave Me Away?

Astarion x f!Reader

Word Count 9.5k

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: GAMEPLAY SPOILERS! & ROMANCING ASTARION SPOILERS! Mentions of canonical violence, Astarion POV, angst, with comfort (it ends nice I promise), slow burn, depictions of anxiety, depression, anger, insecurity, guilt, manipulation, blood drinking (of course), and it’s long as fuuuuuuu

& what I have to say is… As it turned out, I had played all of Act 2 out of order, and stopped doing that before I did some irreversible damage to my Moonrise Tower to-do list. Which means when I began to write this fic EVERYTHING WAS OUT OF ORDER. It still might be but idgaf anymore. Even the mf confession scene (I WIN! I WIN AND I DIDN’T EVEN TRY TO CHARM THAT VAMPIRE MF) I was sitting in my room, phone on my chest, Baldurs Gate in my hands googling ‘what to do before moonrise’, ‘moonrise or mausoleum first in bg3’, because I explored much more than I should have, apparently… So this fic has been Frankenstein-ed to death, and the word count has greatly exceeded my expectations. It’s kind of my baby so be nice and give it a little love if you like it… or don’t! I appreciate you either way. And Special thanks to E.P. for the prompt and her friend in SoCal because I was about to screw myself OVEEERRR!

Everything seemed bleak on the way to the Light Inn. Nothing magical or charming about the glowing mushrooms anymore and the air felt as thick as water. Astarion faithfully trudged behind you through the mud, uneven trails, and hostile shadowy figures. But sometimes you would squint at the marker on the map or linger a little longer than you should have. He would watch you squeeze your right hand with your left as you studied the hastily blotted spot, then you would trace the drawn pathway with your left hand while the right one would cover and squeeze your mouth. Beyond scenery, and new objectives, everyone was adapting. They had to; he had to. But you were changing faster than others, faster than him, and much faster than he could keep track of. 

Astarion felt like he was watching you disappear, or feeling you slip out of his hands the way blood from deep wounds squeezed between desperately closed fingers. From kind traveler, comforter, and hopefully hopeless leader, you burned with a desire to be it all. In front of other wandering bodies, the mere strangers swimming through the Underdark, Astarion watched you hold this fire with outstretched, kerosene-soaked hands, just to give someone else light. You might never see these people again, but you did it anyways, even if all it did was burn. Whether it be fighting at some poor soul's side or offering words of comfort, once the rescuee turned to leave Astarion watched to see whatever leftover flame danced in your palms. Some nights he couldn’t even call it that despite you cradling it close to your chest. 

Often times Astarion thought of taking over your dealings even if it meant they’d get a little lost in his blind, apathetic advice. He knew that you were the most levelheaded person to lead but gods you started to look as lost as he already felt. The Inn was just a bridge away, before it was it was a group of protective Harpers away. Before anyone could find a place to lay their heads Astarion felt his patience thin when having to save Isobel was thrown into the mix. But you fought fearlessly. Always saving people without a second to spare, or a second to think. 

Lately, Astarion wondered just where you had been all these years. 

“If possible,” you spoke in soft whispers to Jaheira about your accommodations. “Could I have a single room for tonight? I-I can pay I just-” 

With a quick hand over yours and a warm smile, Jaheira reassured you that after keeping their Selûne Warrior safe, the least she could do was let you have a room to yourself. “It has two beds, but you can push them together for one big one.” You nodded and thanked her with a long breath out. 

Astarion for a moment pretended to be looking at a patron nearby as you walked toward him. But he couldn’t help trying to keep you in scene before you could arrive. Trying to read your shoulders, eyes brows and hands. Truthfully Astarion was looking for something soft in your inventory; he wondered if tonight you might have anything to spare. 

“If you’re hungry,” your worn out, dim voice and all-knowing watch cut in. “You can feed on me tonight if you’d like.” 

“I was just so hoping you’d ask. But are you really looking for alone time?” Giving you a tilted head and lopsided glance was enough to tell him where he stood. “Or are you looking for alone time with me, darling?” 

“I was going to pretend you weren’t obviously eavesdropping, but you’d love that wouldn’t you?” You were warm enough to keep up with a quirked a brow and an equally lazy grin. “After today I feel like everyone can smell me from outside the Inn. So, until I can shower... I don’t even want to think about doing anything other than sleeping in a bed.” 

“I’m sure you don’t.” He whisked behind you and whispered, “But if change your mind, at least think of me.” 

“Aha, I’ll be seeing you later,” the back of your hand smacked your forehead as though you were swooning. “Tonight.” 

A small guilt tugged at his chest before you nodded off and up the stairs. Astarion would lounge around in the waiting area while Karlach gushed over Jaheira from afar. Shadowheart walked alongside her to study the Inn with wholehearted skepticism. Audibly muttering her thoughts about the moon maiden, the area as a whole, and how Shar’s worshippers must have had their reasons. She broke away from Karlach and headed to Astarion with her eyes stuck to Jaheira. “We should probably get to our room them?” 

“Right.” 

On cue, Karlach caught them both headed up the stairs and followed. She waved to Jaheira, still gushing. “Gods isn’t this exciting- oh, hey? Where’d our little leader go?” Karlach asked upon arrival. 

“She might’ve beat us to bed.” Shadowheart smiled. “I wouldn’t blame her if she’s fast asleep, she’s earned it.” 

Astarion thought about letting them know about your requested ‘alone time’ but figured you would come around to telling them after they find you. 

Little drops of drying water decorated the wooden floor in a trail that led down the stairs. Astarion followed the trail with his eyes alongside Karlach who noticed it too. “Wait, Shadowheart,” she called. 

None of them had noticed you pass by with freshly washed hair and a towel around your shoulders.  They all backtracked down the staircase, Karlach stood near a game of chess, Shadowheart by the banister, and Astarion some feet behind you while you knelt in front of a hairless cat. You seemed more at ease tonight. 

“Hello, your highness.” You let your hand keep you steady on the ground as you spoke. “I’ve come to admire your beauty.” The cat sat tall and proud, lifting his head so you can awe at his hairless self. “And what a beautiful cat indeed.” You cooed without reaching to touch the animal. 

The cat nodded and swiftly made its way over to its bed, dismissing you with its whole, hairless body. You stood up, stretched your arms above your head before catching the group lounging nearby. Nothing was said as you politely waved to everyone before turning your attention to a man and child playing chess. 

From behind you couldn’t tell just then who you were looking at but as you rounded the table to get a good view of the game, Raphael and Mol, the Tiefling child who spoke on everyone's behalf earlier, seemed to be in a heated match. Raphael was going to win despite giving Mol pointers. If anything, his pointers were just to remind Mol that she was going to lose no matter the move. 

The child's pouting seemed to give you an idea. You took a drawn-out stretch being sure to overextend your arms and back. Astarion knew exactly what you were doing before you ‘lost your balance’ and knocked into the board. The pieces tipped and rolled in every direction and Raphael shot a knowing look at you, only turning back to the board after his opponent had pieced it back together. 

“Well, go on, Mol.” The devil muttered. 

With one move Mol won the game and shot up from their seat. “Well, that settles it. Fair and square!” They exclaimed proudly. 

“Sure, fair and square.” Raphael nodded up to you. “But before you go,” Mol looked over her shoulder. “Think about my offer.” 

Up and away she went while Raphael turned to his leftover audience. “Fancy seeing you all here, and so far away from the sun.” 

“I didn’t know you struck up deals with children.” Your tone surprised Astarion. 

“Don’t you worry, it’s only a necessary evil. She’ll come around to the only option she has,” Raphael expectantly looked past you to Astarion. “But I have a feeling your little friend has a question they want to ask me.” 

“I do,” Astarion’s eye contact wavered. “I have a proposal.” Raphael mocked him before mentioning something about his how drinking blood would burn more than whiskey. “This is serious business, devil.” Astarion hardened his voice as he explained the runes. From the corner of his eye, he watched you stiffly fold your arms and size Raphael up with a glare. Astarion felt some comfort in that. “I want to know if it’s maybe a contract...” 

“Well, what could it be?” Raphael melodically taunted. “A lover letter, a deed, a contract?” He waved his hand in front of Astarion’s face like he was introducing the opening act in a play. “But I need time to think. I will have to get back to you on that.” 

Astarion whined, reiterating just how serious this was to him before asking, “Just how soon will you get back to me on that?” 

“Soon.” 

At some point you fidgeted with the fabric of the towel around your neck before steadily pulling it to one side of your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” the devil reassured both of you, “I am most inclined to help.” With dramatic flair, Raphael disappeared in a quick plume of smoke. 

All eyes but yours turned to Astarion, and Astarion with his on you. It was clear that Raphael’s attitude had rubbed you the wrong way as you blankly stared at the spot he vanished from. “I’ll get back to you on that.” you mumbled. Your damp hair had soaked into the neck of your top. The towel dangled in your balled fist at your hip. The cool breeze sent shivers up your neck before you put the cloth back onto shoulders. After another moment of thinking, you turned around to head to your room. 

“Darling?” Despite it being barely audible, his voice seemed to reach you anyway as he caught your subtle hesitation before decidedly going on your way. 

Karlach and Shadowheart both began to say something but in vain as you were so lost in thought still that you couldn’t hear. They turned their attention to Astarion who intently watched you. “Is something going on between you two?” 

“What?” Astarion snapped his head to Karlach. 

“Sorry.” She snorted. “It could’ve been Raphael but she just seems way more tired than usual.” 

“Well, we are in the Underdark, Karlach.” He said obviously. “It’s dark down here, and I’m sure that the dark makes most normal people tired.” 

“Don’t be rude Astarion.” Shadowheart butt in. “Are you sure that feeding on her every night wouldn’t be a contributing factor along with ‘the dark’?” 

“Haven’t you been healing her up every morning?” 

“I have not. Not since we’ve been down here.” Karlach watched in awe between the stairs and then to two bantering at the bottom. “So, if you’ve been feeding on her still, well... She hasn’t had any of her usual morning chats with me.” Shadowheart finished. 

Karlach watched as Astarion’s eyes round in realization. The guilt grew, pushing his stomach up into his neck. “Oh Fangs, you didn’t know. It’s okay, I think.” 

“Is it, Karlach?” Shadowheart interjected, shooting a venomous glare at the ill looking vampire. “It started with a dagger to her neck, which she forgave. Then she’s understanding of your hunger, even defending you to Gale after you go at her neck again without permission.” 

“That was once- only twice-!” He pushed his finger out to correct her. 

“And all you can do is give half-hearted compliments and bat your eyelashes whenever you need something. A potion, a moment, a warm body to bleed. I mean, have you even said thank you?” 

Karlach put her hand between the two. “Shadowheart, I know you’re worried about her but you know that it’s can’t just one person's fault. It might not be anyone’s fault let alone Astarions.” She waved it up and down. “I think we’re all just tired-.” 

“Don’t act like you’re physically incapable of talking to her yourself!” Astarion retorted above and below Karlach’s hand. “And my attempts to thank her have been pushed aside, thank you very much!” 

“Ever try a full-fledged, verbal ‘thank you for feeding me every night, I appreciate you letting me suck you dry, Darling.’ ever?” She took a deep breath in, and on exhale she let her shoulder drop. 

“Let’s just go up and check on her then.” Karlach successfully cut in. 

Shadowheart reached into a small pouch on her person and thoughtfully brought out the little idol of Shar you gifted her the moment you could dust it off. “Do you know just how much she puts into our group?” Her voice was coated in adoration, and it made Astarion sick. “Or how much she’s already put in?” 

Astarion knew. Of course he knew. He was well aware of how much he took, as well as often as did. But he always knew just when to stop, or at least he thought he knew. But that was before he started to find you in even the smallest corners of his mind, before he found himself keeping an eye on you in battle, before the guilt got harder to swallow. If he pushed your sincerity aside with closed eyes as he held out a beggar's hand, the weight of what you gave him would mean nothing if he didn’t have see what you were left with. 

The strangers, travelers, your kind demeanor and hopeful act. Looking back to the Harper woman that marked your map, he wondered if the Light Inn was going to be enough to keep you going tomorrow. If it was enough for you to spare anything more after, or in the days to come. Gods, was the Harper woman a reflection of him? Where he only loathed her for sinning the same way he did; or for taking what he was saving for later? If anything, Astarion felt like he might as well just be another traveler to you. Someone that followed you around like hungry, dead weight. But he would never have to wonder how far you had carried him and six others, they had the map and markers. But he did wonder just how often he stole your living, breathing warmth. 

Wasn’t that the plan, for him to bleed you dry? Then, now, and hopefully after? 

“I don’t think Astarion would do anything to purposefully weaken her.” Karlach came to his defense. “That wouldn’t make sense, especially now. Besides, she is a big girl and can come to you if she feels like it.” 

Shadowheart shook her head. “You know what? You’re right. And so are you, Astarion.” The little, rock carved goddess dramatically fell to her side alongside her hand as she turned. “Why am I even waiting for her to ask? I’ll be upstairs.” She ran and left Karlach to tend to Astarion. 

“Fangs, you’re looking down, too. Don’t let Shadowheart get to you she’s been…” Karlach gave a sympathetic smile. “You know you can always talk to Mama-K.” Her laugh was aimed at herself as Astarion playfully rolled his eyes. 

The two of them watched the floor before Astarion looked up to her. “Do you think I’ve done it this time?” 

Without a second thought Karlach shook her head enthusiastically. “You might be right about the Underdark. There’s more on her mind than just you and me. Well, in her mind… I should say.” 

“In our minds.” a pathetic laugh bubbled from the nausea. “I think our dark princess would have to agree with that. At least to some extent.” 

Karlach met Astarion’s gaze with another sympathetic smile “I know you care,” she seemingly said out of nowhere. “I’m not the only one who sees it when you look at her. Even if it’s just a little. I think she at least knows that you care about her if Shadowheart doesn’t, ya’ know?” 

Astarion slowly nodded with a confused look before Karlach lead the way to their room. When Shadowheart returned from her check-in with you, she paid no mind to Astarion for the rest of the night. Instead, she went straight to Karlach, and to what his eavesdropping could gather, he safely assumed that he was in the clear. He guessed you really did just need alone time. 

After his vampiric rest, he lied still. Whatever light from outside cast patterns on the ceiling, and he cut them out into little pieces with Shadowheart’s steady breathing and some occasional snoring from Karlach in the background. Then he wondered what you sounded like while you slept. He hated that he didn’t pay attention the one time he could. Did you snore? If you did, were they raspy, hollow breathes or loud snorts that echoed? Maybe you were the restless dreamer where the shuffle of blankets and pillows would tell him you were just about to wake up. 

Astarion found himself wanting to know and shot up before he could want to know more. 

The wood was cool on the bottom of his feet. Without creaking, cracks, or splinters Astarion was able to move quietly out of the room into the hall. Lit candles lined the hallway to your room which felt more meaningful to him than it should have but he shook coincidence away and out of his mind. Instead, Astarion thought about how you pretended not to hear him earlier, he thought back to hands holding flames and he froze, feeling sick at your door. 

I’m hungry, he told himself. I feel sick because I am hungry. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, clearly expecting him with your hair pulled to one side and the right side of your neck exposed. “You’re late.” 

“Only a little, darling.” Astarion made his way over to plant his right knee beside your thigh, his left leg between your own. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.” 

“Hardly.” you whispered to the door behind him. “Besides, I can’t let you go hungry, can I?” 

Astarion decided not to press you. “I suppose not.” He smirked as the breath of his reply sent goosebumps all over your neck and shoulders. 

Tonight, you didn’t close your eyes in anticipation. There was no shiver down your spine or shudder in your breath when Astarion held both of your shoulders while he slowly sunk his teeth in. Hells, you didn’t even whine. It felt like kissing someone who wouldn’t close their eyes or kiss him back. 

Astarion made it quick, hardly getting his fill. As he arose and took a step back to search you up and down for any sign of discomfort. There was nothing out of the ordinary, you paled like usual, especially in your lips, but your expression was unreadable. Visibly there was nothing wrong, but he wanted to listen to your beating heart just to be sure nothing was moving faster or slower than it should. Then without thinking, he suddenly and loosely embraced you in his arms to put his head to your chest. 

“Woah, h-hey.” You jumped back on your elbows, crawling a step back on the bed. 

Astarion’s hands shot up in the air. “I was just,” The look of innocent surprise that coated your body was cute until he remembered why you looked so venerable. He furrowed his brows as he massaged the bridge of his nose, coming off of the bed. “I-I didn’t, or- I don’t mean to insinuate anything, my dear.”  

“Then...” The bed shook under his knee as you relaxed onto your hands, upright but leery. “What were you trying to do?” 

“Nothing, really." He massaged his neck. “Unless-” 

“Unless nothing.” You wildly grinned. “Unless nothing, Astarion. I really mean to have my alone time.” 

“Are you-” Astarion squared his gaze onto the litters of goosebumps on your chest and shoulders while you self-soothingly rubbed your arms. “Are you cold?” His chest tightened once he realized you were suppressing the chatter of your teeth with a trembling jaw. 

“A little.” The movement slowed as you stiffly squeezed your biceps. “Blood loss tends to do that.” 

That’s right, he thought. Astarion of all people, or undead things, should know that the lack of blood meant a lack of warmth. 

“Don’t you look so concerned. That’s not like you.” You coyly laughed. “I’ve been okay before, and I’ll be okay now. I am sitting on top of a completely made bed, you know?” 

Astarion stretched his neck and sighed. “Of course.” He gave you a weak chuckle. “Well, I guess I’ll take my leave then. But if you need a little warming up, you know where to find me.” The rustle of sheets as you climbed under the covers made him scrunch his nose insecurely at the door. “Good night, darling.” 

The following morning, Astarion could found sitting at the chess table, replaying the night before. Not for Raphael but for you. It more so that he was cringing at himself and his lack of control. The way your reacted to his embrace compared to his bite made his head spin with wonder and disappointment. The fact that his teeth breaking your flesh was better received than his concern was astounding. Realizing that if he was going to pull you into him, it was expected that he take and not give. 

Was it that obvious? 

You descended the stairs, the two followed behind, and you were practically glowing. Immediately Astarion felt relieved to know that Shadowheart likely made sure to cast a restoration of some sort today. He sat up a little as you wordlessly greeted him, watching you feel the right side of your neck with your left hand while your self-conscious chuckle furthered his optimism. 

Sigh, last night, “Again, I didn’t-” Astarion started to apologize. 

“Hush.” You made big eyes in reference to the two behind you. “You’re alright in my book.” Sheepishly grinning, you tilted your head and scrunched your nose before heading out. 

As per usual, everyone followed your lead in battle. Successfully you collected the Moonlantern, freed a pixie from inside, and were already thinking about the next move back at camp the morning after. “I think we should scope out Moonrise before meeting with any head honchos.” You said near the empty fire pit at camp. “I’ll do my usual hoarding while we get a good look at the place. And this,” you pointed to a little circle with question mark inside, “I can hardly remember what for, but I think it was marked for some rumored supplies.” You wiggled your fingers in the air with feigned enthusiasm. “I would like this to be priority, actually.” 

“Yes ma’am.” Karlach affirmed. “And I see that good ol’ Gale will be joining us today?” 

“I shall be at your disposal, yes.” He smiled genuinely before it grew sheepish. “Of course, with the hopes that I would not be disposed of.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes.  

“Never, Gale.” You playfully smiled at Astarion. “You’re the last person here I’d do that to” 

“Oh, don’t look at me,” he scoffed but you did, playfully through your lashes. 

“Whatever you say.” You sung before quickly tucking the map away. “But today we’re just scoping, taking, and talking.” 

Everyone nodded, and without another word were off to Moonrise. 

To everyone’s surprise, the guards could not care less about your party going in. The parasite was like a VIP pass inside and the tadpole-less guests praised your every step. It was odd to be so easily trusted and to roam freely. Usually at least one person challenged your worm infected autonomy, but this was a nice yet eerie change. 

But to nobody’s surprise nothing could ever go according to plan. Gale had opened the biggest and most obvious set of doors upon entry and interrupted a meeting between some goblins and Katheric Thorm. To the very left of where Katheric was sat stood Z’rell, the cult advisor that the guards outside said everyone must report to. And again, to not no one’s surprise, the meeting was nothing short of incredibly memorable with a show of immortal strength and the opportunity to sacrifice a small goblin herd at trial. 

Astarion was curious to see what your heroic self would do when the fate of the goblin crews' lives was hurriedly placed in your hands. So, when you had asked them to stop speaking, ‘to not even breathe’, his heart raced with confusion and excitement. 

That’s my girl, he thought. “But by the gods, I hope she’s okay.” 

“Me too.” Karlach swallowed with disappointment. 

Astarion cupped his mouth, not meaning to have said the second half of his thought aloud. 

Karlach looked over to him, “I guess the Underdark really is doing a number on her.” 

“It would seem so.” He kissed his teeth. 

You waved everyone over to follow Z’rell upstairs. A whole new mission got added to the list and Astarion took in this small laugh of disbelief you gave him. In response he tucked in his chin and raised a brow as though to wordlessly ask what exactly had you expected after everything leading up to this. 

The Tower was big, full of locked doors and overly trusting guests that roamed and for a moment there was some pep in your step as soon as you finally got everyone back on track. But once a broken wall produced just under 200 gold and a spell scroll, your disappointment was obvious as you bit your knuckle at the open chest. Without enthusiasm, you drew a little check mark beside the rumored supplies you prioritized this morning. Astarion would normally have something snarky to say but the glowing girl from earlier was having her light put out by her own optimism and he wanted nothing more than to do or say something that could bring back a spark. A pixie, perhaps. But before he could reach out to you, Karlach pushed through a door and on the other side of it was Araj who would come to make things worse.  

The blood lusted alchemist was off to a bad start when she immediately noted Astarion as the ‘Pale Friend’, drawing a more than uninterested look from you as she spoke. “I can make one of a kind potion, just for you, from you.” She modestly smiled. “One prick, a drop of your blood and it’s yours. But I keep the rest for myself.” 

After some curious questions, Astarion was surprised when you held out your hand to be poked. But then thought about how stupid it was to be surprised at that after the night prior. Instantly a potion was produced and carefully placed into your hands. 

“Thank you-” 

“Before you go, there is one other thing I would like to discuss;” she interrupted moved closer to you, but only to get a better look at Astarion. “Your friend.” 

Astarion knew that he stood out in a room to anyone who knew anything about the undead. They could and often did sniff him out wherever he met them. So, when she inquired of his being a Vampire or spawn, he naturally reassured her that as a part of the absolute that everyone serving in Her name was safe in his company.  

“Oh no, I hope for quite the opposite.” Araj watched you expectantly. “I assume he belongs to you?” 

“Belongs?” A distasteful curiosity bled from your voice. “Excuse me, but he’s his own person.” 

She smiled mockingly. “I’m sure he believes that.” 

Distaste was a little soft, you looked and sounded appalled. Actually, to everyone in your corner, your face gave that word another meaning. The drow hardly asked for his name, if anything she flatly commanded it from the wide-eyed Vampire. 

Your finger flew back to shush him, “Astarion” he too quickly answered. “But wait-.” 

“Good.” She smirked. “Now-” 

Your finger made its way around to her before she could continue. “Watch it.” You warned. 

Astarion looked over to Karlach and Gale who were also caught just as off guard as you were. But she paid no mind to your hand as she explained her life-long, born from childhood dream of being bitten by a vampire. She looked too comfortable swooning as she talked about losing her blood in between life and death. “I’ll even give compensation. A potion of legendary power.” Araj bribed. 

Astarion knew where this was going as Araj gave the details of the potion. He knew where he was and knew everyone had just a taste of power these cultists had. He knew that most people would be persuaded with this once in a lifetime offer. Who wouldn’t want guaranteed strength in a bottle? Most people would be, but he hoped that you weren’t most people because was unsure he would say no if you asked him to. He knew he owed you that much. 

The Drow asked Astarion if he would bite her to which he kindly declined. Then she faced you, clearly taken aback. “Well, can’t you do something about him? About your spawn?” Astarion held his breath. 

“He said no.” Relief flooded his body, causing his shoulders to drop despite his fixed posture in surprise. But you were stiff, straightening your neck as disappointment spread across Araj’s face. “What part of that did you not get the first time?” 

“Soldier,” Karlach leaned to your ear. “I think we should get going.”  She nudged your foot with hers. “We’ll be seeing you, Arash.” 

“It’s Araj.” 

“Right, sorry.” Gale apologized on Karlach’s behalf and bowed on the way out. Astarion followed behind him through a door that took everyone back outside. 

Karlach seemed to be calming you down, and until Karlach mentioned it, Astarion didn’t realize that while Araj spoke you began to pet a dagger on your hilt. “We don’t need to get into trouble while we’re still on the Absolute’s ground. Not before we’re ready to be.” 

Surely it wasn’t on his behalf, was it? No could care about anyone that much let alone another Vampire’s Spawn. 

“I should’ve just done it. The doors were closed and who knows? Maybe she had the potion already on her. Or maybe not.” Astarion raised a brow as his stomach sank. “Fucking weirdo.” You muttered. 

“Wow,” Karlach laughed. “Fucking weirdo, I couldn’t agree with you more, Captain.” She ran up as you walked around the tower. 

Astarion blankly watched the back of your head from two people away as you grew quiet and stayed that way. He wanted to know what you were thinking and whether or not you were mad at him for being so unwilling or if your silence was left over from Araj. But there was also nothing planned after scoping out Moonrise, at least nothing anyone mentioned. Everyone settled on blindly following your lead as you spotted a hill with some makeshift graves. 

“Gale,” you stopped suddenly at the foot of an overgrown root. “Can you head back to camp and grab Shadowheart?” 

“Are you sure?” 

You nodded. “I’d really appreciate something warm and hearty when we get back, and I love her but-.” 

“No need, I get it.” Gale smiled, bowed, and waved everyone off. 

Astarion watched Gale leave before he caught you and Karlach now raced to a patch of dirt. When he caught up with you, Karlach was watching out for Shadowheart as you picked through some choice graves. 

“Sweetheart, are you robbing from dead Justiciars?” His shadow hovered over your hands. “Why have her join at all?” 

“I’m sure she might know something about this site. But not a word about my scavenging, please.” With steady hands your swiftly placed the stones back the way they were. 

Astarion’s index finger and thumb drew a line in front of his lips as he sealed them shut and threw away an imaginary key. “My lips are sealed.” 

You snorted and smacked the dirt off your hands before Shadowheart materialized out of thin air, having everything to say about Shar’s faithful fallen soldiers. As she knelt to one of the graves, reverently running her hand across the rocks, Astarion caught sight of a dimly lit entrance. Karlach saw it too and pointed. 

“Maybe we can check it out before we look for supplies in the buildings, we passed by…” her booming voice trailed off when she saw him, then everyone turned. 

Raphael was mumbling to himself at the bottom of some steps at entrance of a cave. As Astarion began to walk only to see you were once again leading the way over. Again, in disguise, the devil gave the details of his deal to the whole group. All they had to do was kill an old enemy of his if Astarion wanted his scars decoded. The deal seemed sweeter than what he expected, simpler, maybe too sweet. But no one was sure what price was to be paid for translation. 

Karlach leaned over to you. “Again, I really don’t know about this.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes before he turned away from the cave. He just missed your response, and how Karlach retorted didn't fill in any blanks. “I don’t want to be tricked into doing that evil fucker's errands for free or find out that this order is for more than any of us can afford fill.” 

“Well, for now,” Shadowheart shot Astarion a raised brow to measure. “I think should head back to camp. I think we could use a moment to relax.” She tilted her head to you with her eyes locked on Astarion. 

You nodded mindlessly. “Yeah, or at least a moment to think” 

Astarion began to open his mouth when Shadowheart chimed in again “Right,” sounding uncharacteristically chipper. “We should plan a little just before heading inside. 

“I’m sorry you came here for nothing-” 

“The graves of Justiciars are not nothing.  Besides, I’m glad you thought to have me, even if it was just for a moment.”  

Shadowheart was good at that. Being soft when you needed it. And Karlach was good at melting you into a giggling mess when she could. Most of the time Astarion could find something obscene enough to say, that pulled you out of your head to laugh. But lately he felt like him just being there was making it impossible for anyone to distract you from yourself. 

You looked pensive the whole walk back to camp. After everything that had happened today from Moonrise, to goblins, to devils, Astarion could not pinpoint if it was one specific thing or everything that weighed heavy on your mind. What he could gather was how drastic the dip in your mood was after Araj, and Raphael. Both of those things happened to be tied to him and he got that funny feeling again. The feeling that he was taking from you without realizing it. That his mere presence was enough to make you bleed. 

Astarion wished he had just said yes to drinking the Araj’s foul-smelling blood. He shouldn’t let you fight his battles and make his deals; he didn’t want you to anymore. Astarion was centuries older than you and yet you were the one holding his hand through the Underdark. Staying up late night after night so he could eat. And he found himself pondering it all too tenderly. 

Scratch and the Owlbear cub zipped past you, hopping around giddily despite the gloomy scenery. Astarion felt a bit pensive himself. You were just as distant as you had been lately but tonight you were especially cold. Sure, you were healthier today than you had been for a while, and nothing seemed to tire you out. But there wasn’t the light and witty banter you spewed so effortlessly that he loved. He missed your observant and borderline judgmental comments on anything you stole from buildings and corpses. Even in Balthazar’s room inside Moonrise Tower, which brimmed with separated limbs and cold jars of blood, you made no snarky comment in correlation to Astarion’s diet. It would’ve have been easy, low hanging fruit by his standards; but at this point he was pulling on the branches for you to reach, you wouldn’t even need to jump. Astarion just wanted you to pick up something, anything really to throw at him. 

“Hey,” You called out, making him unusually hopeful. 

“Yes, darling?” He gave his most honest grin. 

“Do you think we can trust him to keep up his end of the bargain? Raphael, I mean?”  

“I trust a devil over a vampire any day. Besides,” with his hand on his chest, Astarion leaned back. “I think he likes us.” 

How you slowly blinked and nodded flattened his hopes. “It’s your only lead, I suppose...” Scratch and the Owlbear nearly ran into you again, but you didn’t smile, flinch, or notice the animals despite watching them pass you two by. You were millions of miles away from everyone. Millions of miles away from him. 

“Yeah, it is our only lead. My only lead.” Astarion reiterated defensively. 

“I know, I know.” Your eyes screwed shut as you nodded some more. “Maybe we can go to the house of healing in case there’s something on Ketheric. Then after we can go to the cave.” 

“Only after…” What was cause for worry before was now cause for slight agitation. 

“Yes, well, I mean-” You threw your head back and up to the sky like itmight give you a clue. “Or..? Gods, I don’t know.” 

“What don’t you know, sweetheart?” 

“I-I don’t know that either. I don’t know what I don’t know, I guess.” Self soothingly you cupped your face and took a deep breath in. “What I do know is that’s it’s on my list.” You were staring at his neck, struggling to look up any further. 

You sounded unsure of yourself, and while that made him sympathetic, it did more to make him anxious. “I guess I can only hope that it’s high up there. Afterall, this is the first chance I’ve had at deciphering my scars.” Astarion apathetically reminded you, unable to help his tone when he leaned into your ear uncomfortably close. 

“Be a dear and don’t get in my way.” He spat. 

“I won’t?” You turned to him equally defensive. “Don’t you know by now that you can just-” Astarion faced you, practically touching noses but nothing about the tension was romantic once he caught what looked like tears pooling in your eyes. “Y-you should know by that you can just...” 

Karlach glanced over to what she likely saw as two people incredibly close to one another, “Oh, don’t look now but there’s PDA on the campgrounds,” she announced. Wyll let out a dramatic ‘Oo~’ that made her laugh. 

Astarion was horrified inside and unable to think despite having that same snippy look on his face. But once the tears fell, he quickly pulled away, finally softening his demeanor. Karlach eventually looked over at you two when she hadn’t heard any smart mouthed response. 

“You j-just have to ask.” You whimpered between labored breathes. 

Karlach ran to your side before Astarion could think to speak. “What happened?” The concern in her voice caught Gale and Shadowheart’s attention. Gale quietly watched Astarion from a few feet away while Shadowheart raced over to place her hands on your shoulders the moment she arrived. 

Shadowheart did what she did best lately, give dirty looks at Astarion from in the background. She had her head on your shoulder while Karlach tried to get some sort of response out of you. Shadowheart took her turn with her own line of questions when all Karlach could get was a pained look on your face. But there you were in the center of them making him sick again. 

Astarion couldn’t handle himself as you cried. Never in his life had he so quickly regretted saying something to someone, let alone someone he grew so fond of. He felt worse as found himself noting how pretty you looked with tears down you face. All you needed was a break, maybe another night to yourself and right now he would give you all of them if he could help it. But he couldn’t, he never could. Astarion had to be sure that you were still on his side, and that you’d be waiting for him in his corner as though standing up for him in Moonrise Towers wasn’t enough. 

Worry grew as Astarion thought about freedom of choice, and how much time had passed from the Tiefling party. You repeatedly declined his advances to have sex again, but he hadn’t made any significant or particularly tempting advances. In fact, he didn’t want to. Until now, he didn’t think he had to. In-between what he knew and what he wanted, Astarion wasn’t sure he would truly feel better if you just used his body like he needed you to. But if you wanted to, he would let you. It would be fair. It would make everything easier. It was what he thought he deserved. But there you were in front of him, reminding him that all he had to do was ask and it was his. He knew that if he said that aloud you would convince him otherwise, even if you had to do it sobbing. 

That’s exactly how you made everything harder. Without your hands, without a leash, and without control, you had successfully made him care. When exactly that had started, Astarion couldn’t be sure but it was unsettlingly that the feeling crept in without a sound after he was so sure about having his heart set on using you. Maybe it started as selfishly as all things start, where wanting part of someone becomes needing everything else, they were. When being protected meant taking care his protector and being feed meant cleaning up after. Astarion wanted to switch roles to take care of you for once, he just didn’t know how to yet. 

Shadowheart was about to call Gale over when you finally moved to wipe away your tears with the sleeves of your top were pulled over your palms. “Please don’t.” You pleaded with a nervous grin. “It’s nothing.” 

“It is clearly not nothing.” Shadowheart squeezed your arms, her chin bouncing on your shoulder as she spoke. “You know you can talk to me. Or Karlach.” The Tiefling had her hands on her knees, crouching and nodding while Shadowheart spoke. “Or I can go grab La’zael but I don’t actually know what she would do for you. I don’t think she’s ever cried in her life...” 

You let out an estranged laugh at the mention of Lae’zel. Shadowheart and Karlach’s whole demeanor eased up as they laughed with you. Coincidentally, Lae’zel started sharpening a blade which echoed throughout camp and softened the air significantly. Karlach headed to Lae’zel’s tent to have her shut off the wheel, Shadowheart kept her arm around your neck, guiding you behind Karlach. Astarion watched as each breath hiccupped in your shoulders, ignoring Lae’zel’s blunt form of comfort while he left to accompany Gale. 

“You know Astarion,” he slowly stirred the strew from the very bottom of the pot to keep anything from sticking and burning. “She keeps a close eye on you when we’re out.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Astarion couldn't even try to pretend he meant that. 

“I’m not trying to be. As cold as you are, no pun intended, I think most of us can tell she has a keen interest in your wellbeing, and I would suspect that you maybe return the sentiment.” 

“I’ll have you know that not one of those earlier statements is funny or true.” Astarion tried to be coy. “Especially not now.” 

“Deflect all you want my sharp-toothed friend, but I know you do.” Gale poured a bowl for himself, and a second one for Astarion. 

“Don’t sound so sure of yourself.” He eyed the stew. “And Gale that’s just rude.” 

From the corner of his eye, you watched him expectantly, with the same look you had when he drank you up at Light Inn. Shadowheart was shaking her head and rolling her eyes while Lae’zel  spoke. “She doesn’t have to explain anything more. If she wants to sulk right now, let her.” Your Githyanki friend had this way of sounding harsh while looking concerned in her own funny way as she spoke. “Do you need more information to comfort someone you supposedly care for? Are those the teachings of Shar?” 

“You’re one to talk,” Shadowheart huffed. 

You were back and forth, looking between the two while seeming entertained. 

“Astarion, my friend.” Gale held out the bowl to him. “I’m sure you know what I’m doing.” 

He did. “Give me that.” He hissed and swiped your portion of food from Gales hand. 

You watched Shadowheart as she turned to face him. “Astarion.” 

“Shadowheart.”  

“Good evening to you.” She avoided eye contact as she folded her hands. 

Astarion bowed in a gentlemanly manner, tiling his head as he spoke to you. “I come bearing sustenance, my dear.” As you took the warm bowl from his hands Lae’zel tsked, and Karlach gave him a thumbs up despite pursing her lips. 

“I see Gale made stew?” Shadowheart kept curt. 

“I mean, I hope this is stew because if it’s not then I have no idea what she’s about to eat.” Astarion said sarcastically. “Although, in that case it’s better her than me.” 

Astarion couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad sort airy laugh you gave him before you took a bite. But you with a free hand you motioned him to lean in again. You placed the bowl between your lap on the stool to cup his ear with both of your hands. Astarion tried to get a good look at you from the corner of his eye before you left his peripheral. 

“You can feed on me again, if you’d like.” Gods you looked so pretty and venerable. 

“I think…” Astarion thought about your breath and hands on his ear and tried to shake away the thought, “I think we need to talk, later.” 

With the spoon in your mouth, you nodded again. “Okay, later.” You scooped up another bite. 

Shadowheart was about to say something when you put your hand on her arm and shook your head. “I’m good. This is good,” was said so sincerely she didn’t try to fight it. 

Astarion paid no mind to how the others reacted as he turned away to sit in his tent. The night couldn’t drag any slower even if it tried. You had disappeared into your tent after you ate, and so from in his own tent he was left to watch the rest of the weirdos interact and pretend that nothing happened. He stopped listening when Wyll started sharing some heroic tall tale and could only hope that you would still be awake after everyone else had fallen asleep. Truthfully Astarion had no reason to worry, he always found you waiting for him. 

Your lashes were wet as though you just finished crying a second time, or maybe you hadn’t stopped. “You’re early.” You massaged your jaw as you spoke. “Or have I kept you waiting?” 

“You haven’t kept anyone waiting,” he reassured. “And what’s with your jaw?” 

“Just tense.” 

Astarion hummed and squatted onto his ankles. “But you want to feed me anyways.” 

The question caught you off guard. “Yes? Well, if you need to...” 

“Hmm,” Astarion watched the ground. “You know, why do you do that to yourself?” 

“Do what?" He watched as you played with your fingers, squeezing your right hand with your left and had realized that you were studying him. 

“Weren’t you just crying earlier over something I said?” 

“It was more than that.” You caught yourself before you could elaborate and Astarion felt himself growing impatient again. 

“What do you mean more? More how?” 

The tips of your fingers turned white as you continued to squeeze and contort them. “It was just more. Beyond you, and them, and me.” As soon as you looked down at your hands you finally stretched them out in front of you for some relief. “Didn’t you say that you wanted to talk with me?” You pointed to yourself in an awkward attempt to lighten the mood. 

Astarion sucked in his lower lip and sighed. “I did, didn’t I?” 

Astarion stared at you through his lashes as he made his way onto his knees. “My dear, I wanted to talk to you-” A scornful Shadowheart appeared in his head and he winced. “Well. I more wanted to thank you.” 

“Thank me?” Your head shot up from your hands in your lap. “What did I do? You’re being a little mushy on me.” 

“I know, aren’t I full of surprises?” There was a pause as he thought about how to word what he wanted to say next and saw how the silence made you anxious. “But you stood up for me in Moonrise Towers when you didn’t have to, and respected me when I said no. I can’t even remember the last time anyone’s done that for me.” 

“Oh.” You smiled. “Of course.” 

Astarion was unsure of how to explain himself but he wanted to try. “I know I’ve talked about Cazador and the things he made me do. I would use my body to lure in any pretty thing with a pulse and push aside all the disgust that came with it because I had to.” Your hands balled up in your lap. “For a long time, it has felt like that was the only thing I know how to do. Cazador's commands became second nature, his voice still lives in my head. It’s like I forget I’m not under his control. You’ve helped me remember I don’t have to do those awful things anymore.” 

Self-consciously, you hugged yourself at your elbows and took another deep breath in. Your mouth opened to speak but only let all the air out. 

“You can ask me questions.” 

“If it filled you with disgust, if it was awful, then why did you...” You squeezed your eyes shut like you didn’t want to confirm some sinking suspicion. “Why did you sleep with me?” 

Astarion didn’t like your cautious tone. “Why are you asking like that?” 

“No, you just said- why did you sleep with me Astarion?” Your eyes bore into his. “Please just answer.” 

  “I needed you to protect me,” He observed your body as he had been while he spoke. “I needed to ensure you’d never want to leave me.” 

With your palms upright you stared at the space between you two. Astarion waited for you to say something but wasn’t sure what he expected. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear. 

“I hope you know, I would never.” was unexpected, welcome even, but it was not enough to satisfy his guilt. 

“Are you not upset with me?” 

“Do you want me to be?” Your eyes rounded with curiosity. “I just told you that I want you to know I would never leave your side, not willingly I should say.” Your voice trailed off in reflection. “I had never thought to, actually.” 

After centuries of being beaten down, torn apart and stripped of reason, you were just going to tell him that it was, okay? 

Astarion wanted to feel relieved. Astarion wanted to believe you without trembling, without balling his fists over his knees, without something telling him that should know better than to expect understanding. For years he had to get used to knowing that in Cazador's eyes he had always been below forgiveness. Especially the kind that needed no proof of his repentance. 

“What’s wrong?” Your hand fell into view, hovered above his lap and without touching him you guided his chin up so he would face you. 

Once again you were putting yourself aside to comfort him with a face that was drenched in concern. “I feel awful, you know. And you’re making this too easy. I have spent most of our time trying to seduce you, which was easy at first but then you just stopped. You just kept giving without taking which was just what I had hoped for. It was what I wanted- until suddenly it wasn’t.” Astarion shook his head when you nodded in understanding, “You knew it all along, didn’t you?” 

It was maybe a few seconds of silence but it felt like a lifetime while in his self-appointed judgement seat. 

“Not all along.” You looked up thoughtfully, “I didn’t think much of it until you wanted to bed me again." 

“Oh?” His own curiosity spoke cut through the doubt. “What gave me away?” 

“It was when you said,” Astarion winced as you cleared your throat and sat tall to give him a vivid visual of his act. “‘How about I try everyone's favorite? Just three little words? I love you'... Well,” You looked at his lap again, “it’s funny now.” You weakly smiled. Your hands flew over your mouth as your face twisted in embarrassment as Astarions mouth fell slightly open. “I realize that sounds like I wanted you to mean- well no. Yes- wait, no! I-It's not because I,” Your hands fell into your lap before you rolled your head from the ceiling down to him. “The realization hurts, but I guess conformation is worse.” 

Something about you losing your spark flitted across his mind again and without thinking, Astarion leaned in to cup your face tenderly. His cold hands clearly caught you by surprise but you didn’t move away. In his hands he held your swollen bewilderment and kind eyes. He wished he could see what you did in him. “If you’ll let me,” He traced lines over your chin, up to your eyes, the tip of your nose, before he made it back to your gaze. “I would like to have the chance to give you something real.” 

A warm smile in-between repose and disbelief made him weak. Another moment of silence passed as your eyes mapped out his expression. “Oh, shit,” you said with a slow falling simper that made your bottom lip tremble. “You mean that, don’t you...” 

“I do.” He whispered tenderly as his thumb moved to still the shake. “But only if you’ll let me.” 

You closed your eyes and let your head complete relax in his hands. Astarion took this as an opportunity to lift you closed to his face while your brows knitted together in anticipation. Slowly, he placed a kiss on your chin, your left cheek, then your right, before bringing your forehead to his lips. Your hands latched around his wrists as you pressed your head into his right hand. “Does this not bother you-?” 

“Not one bit.” He mirrored you. “But on that note, I think I need more time for intimacy. Or, maybe I don’t want that at all anymore. After everything.” His eyes dropped to your chin. 

“I can wait,” You reassured. “Whether or not that’s in vain. I don’t mind; we don’t have to have sex.” 

Astarion could feel his whole face open as he straightened his posture, and yours. His usual wit and charm were coming back to him. “Well, we’ll see if that proves to be a challenge.” 

You rolled your eyes and were about to pull away when his fingers pressed into your face to keep you still. “Yes?” 

All he could see were your lips, “May I?” 

Astarion was already moving in before you closed the distance. With your lips on his, his hand on the back of your neck, while another cradled your jaw, the only thing he could think about was just how warm you were, how soft and alive you felt on his mouth. But even in his hold he felt like he needed to chase you. You were being too gentle for his taste, too safe on his lips. Astarion was sure you could feel his growing hunger as his hand snaked to the base of your head to hold you by your hair, guiding each kiss with his neck before you finally opened your mouth, inviting him in. 

Still, it wasn’t enough. 

Astarion stood on his knees, not once letting you back away for air as he craned his neck to deepen a kiss that nearly pushed you onto your back. A drawn-out, reverberated whine melted in his ears as you pushed into his waist. But when you let go of him to support yourself, Astarion dragged his teeth on your bottom lip with a final peck before breaking away. You were panting as he sat back on the floor, smiling in his hold as his fingers were still tangled in your hair. Astarion pulled you into his arms, guiding you head into his shoulder before he drew circles on your back. As your heaving slowed, he pressed you flush against his chest like he’ll lose you if he couldn’t feel your heart against his own. “I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t be.” You held him just as tight and that seemed to finally satisfy him. 

“Thank you, my love.” 

Astarion nearly purred when you pecked his neck. “Don’t mention it.” 

© 2024 chimimon

[tactical-jellyfish]

Watcher 1-1

Warnings!: The 141 will be criminally stupid, fumblers, all of them. Death (canon-typical), Violence (canon-typical), loss of limb (no, I won't tell you who yet >:), but I will cover the symptoms as well as possible) They do get kissy, but no smut (that I'm writing, but it's very much implied).

Laswell's office is a familiar place to you. Be it for reprimand (lighthearted), or the ongoing search for an actual field team, you've never been a stranger to these walls.

She looks flat-faced, as per usual, but you sense a crackle in the air that wasn't there before, so when you step in, you set your bag down quicker. Just by a tad.

"Good, you finally figured out how to tie your shoes."

Her tease doesn't go over your head, but it isn't met with a snarl or a dare to say that one more time, I fucking dare you, it's met with a familiar warmth that encompasses your mind, comforts you after another round of brutal training.

"You're excited. Don't drop the pantyhose just yet, okay? Save that for your wife."

Had you been anyone else, you would have been met with a shouting so loud it shakes the very foundations of the building. But you're not anyone else, so it's instead a smack to the shoulder, and the soft swiping sound of manila folders on her pretty, dark-wood desk.

Despite your own rebellious streak, you don't touch any of the information until she opens the first, revealing maybe the single most Scottish name you've seen in a while.

John MacTavish.

She must read through your confusion, because she smiles in that way she thinks you can't see, a slight twitch upward of her lips, only the corners.

"I found a team."

Everything stops right then. The air flowing in the room slows, your heart skips a beat (maybe more than one), and you feel yourself single in on that information, feel your brain grind to an achingly empty halt.

"What?"

It's stupid, you know you heard her right, but you have to ask. You just have to.

"You've got a team, kid. I found a team, they need new intelligence, intelligence that works on the field, too."

You might have just came in your pants. Laswell pats your shoulder, trying to bring you back to the land of the living, smiling wholeheartedly.

"Kid. Kid."

You finally brought yourself back into your brain to realize your fists are clenched and shaking a little, too excited to physically contain yourself.

"I'm listening, Laswell. I'm up." "Good, because you've gotta learn, too."

The conversation that results is one of the longest you've had, but infinitely worth it. It's your in, a short synopsis of these men you're going to be entrusting with your life, something that even the most dedicated reader couldn't gleam from the clinical, militaristic profiles that Laswell has her paws on (though you know getting those must be an already-impressive feat).

Mentally, you start to assemble a list by age, giving yourself advice to learn and test. For science, maybe, or just to game-ify this new experience. To find how to "win" this, because there just has to be a way, if you play your cards right.

Price is firm, yes, and steady in applying pressure, but he's also very clear when he gives approval.

Ghost is his second in command. Quiet, sarcastic. Not open but expecting no vulnerability. Respectable.

Kyle Garrick. Sergeant. Formerly non-military, recruited just a short while back. Playful, but willing, obedient. If you should shoot to emulate anyone, it's him. At least, until you see this dynamic in play.

John MacTavish. Often referred to as "Soap", sometimes "Johnny". Bomb tech. Passionate and fiery. Useful, but he comes on strong. Only play your cards like that if you already have their favor. Being stubborn either makes you a genius or an idiot, and having people think you're stupid isn't a good first impression.

"You think you can hack it, hun?"

You smile at the endearment (doubtlessly acquired through Laswell's habit of picking up her wife's manner of speech), bite back your nerves, and nod.

"Yeah."

"Good. Meeting's next week, so you should start resting up now. Write your lines, make a script, do whatever you need. Just come off as well as you work, and you'll be fine."

Her voice is the finally thing that makes you stand from the chair, beaming at her like a little kid. You know you look silly, but you feel... excited. Much more than usual, and you can't help how you express it.

Laswell knows that, and it is a mercy she offers, but you shake your head, dig your nails into your palm.

She understands. Your new team might not. It'd be best to keep a handle on things, for now. "Thank you, Kate."

First chapter | Previous chapter | Next chapter

[sirenlulls]

ARABELLA → e. hewson

pairing — elijah hewson x famous!fem!reader

summary —every popular man needs an even more popular girlfriend and rn that's you babe xx

written for this request

wraps her lips round the mexican coke, makes you wish that you were the bottle

you're such a fan fav.

like whenever you're at inhaler gigs they're almost more excited to take pictures with you than with the band

if you work in the limelight as well (singer, model, actress, etc) his fanbase is your fanbase.

pictures of you and elijah (and just you) are very common profile pics for inhaler twt and tiktok

he's very aware that he's the arm candy in the relationship

he can't complain tho, he gets it

obsessed bf, pretty gf dynamic

goes without saying that you've got more than a few songs written about you

if you're irish (self projecting) you would be freaking out with him and the lads over them playing in slane (and for opening hslot ofc)

in famous!reader headcanons i always see "his insta is a fanpage for you" and i raise you one, your insta is a fanpage for HIM!!

litch whenever an album drops, it's on the story and in a post. they announced tour dates? posted. they're opening for someone? posted. they fall asleep on your couch after a show? posted. you see a cute fan edit? saved, commented, and posted.

you're visibly down bad for him

BUT DONT WORRY hes visibly down bad for you too

if you're a singer, people are getting videos of him with the biggest heart eyes chilling in the vip section

if you're an actress, pictures of him staring at you on the red carpet or during interviews haunt the rockstar gf pinterest girlies

if you're a model you better believe that there has never been a show of yours when everyone can see him smiling in the front row

your little fanboy <3

forehead kisses for the win!!!

AND AND AND!!!!!! a hand on the small of your back at all times

definitely does the thumb thing when you're holding hands

he follows the sidewalk rule like it's a law

tells u abt the time he got abducted by aliens to help u sleep xx

he doesn't really fuck with spooning but will always rest easier if your head is on his chest and his arm is around you

i feel like if you're a very excitable person (self projecting again) he's such a listener

like you could be rambling about the most random thing in the world, and he'll just sit there nodding with a cute little smile on his face

he'd be great to gossip with, i think, but that might just be the irish in him

it's pretty much mandatory that you get on well with the rest of the bad bcs if you're not busy yourself, eli is dragging you on tour with them

if you were in the industry longer than them i feel like you'd all have some really good chats

like giving them advice on how to deal with anxiety and helping them through any doubts or fears they have

they all appreciate having you around even if ye take the piss out of each other 24/7

it's loving banter <3

you'd get mentioned in interviews a few times

never by name tho

because eli's so private and doesn't want to end up with the bands success being attributed to you he'd never be like "oh, y/n said this, y/n said that"

instead he'd be like "oh, yeah my girlfriend's been here before so she's been telling us where to go and all"

if the others ever brought you up it'd be to take the piss out of eli

"yeah his girlfriend had to drag him out the bus this morning" "he wouldn't shut up till we brought his girlfriend over" stuff like that

you and eli would have some proper deep chats i feel

he trusts you so much

each others ride or dies fr

fans hope you get married

he does too

overall, any comment section under a pic of the two of you is filled with people crediting ye for their bisexuality xx

[tarotwithavi]

How do your classmates and teachers view you?

A general depiction of how your classmates and teachers see you and think of you.

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Take deep breaths and fix your posture.

Pile 1

Hello pile 1 ! You're classmates see you as someone who's competitive and likes winning. You give off the vibe of higher achiever. You might also see that your classmates also see you as a competition and might compare their grades with you. For some of you I'm getting that you might be very popular in school because of your intelligence and knowledge and this might attract some jealousy. Your classmates see you as someone who is always in their own world and does their own thing and very passionate about their studies. Someone who takes their academic life seriously. You're okay with enjoying with your friends and skipping classes but when it's time to study or when you feel like you should study, you became very serious and forget your surroundings.

On the other hand your teachers see you as someone who balances their studies with their hobbies and is a mixture of topper and disguised troublemaker. Your teachers see you as someone who is going to succeed in life. You know the type of student who the teachers believe is going to be great person or is going to get a lot of fame. Someone who doesn't compromise their education for a short time fun. Your teachers see that you can become a perfect judge because of your unbiased opinions and advices. Your teachers see you as a hardworker too. They also see you as someone who makes stupid compromises? Oh I get it they see you as someone who doesn't realize their worth and how capable you are. You tend to underestimate yourself.

Pile 2

Alright pile 2 ! Your classmates see you as the forever helpful and nice classmates. The one who is always ready to help and explain the topics again if someone asks them to. Probably the second teacher of the class Or the head of the class. I'm also getting that your classmates see you as their friend and the coolest classmate. I'm also getting that your classmates recognize you for your art or creativeness. Maybe you sketch, paint, draw or sing? They see you as the down to earth person. The one who is nice to everyone and has good relations with everyone. They also see you as the mother of the friend group or the person who can vibe with anyone ( are you guys for real? How do you do that? What's your secret? ) Anyways , I'm also getting that your classmates like you a lot. And some might be crushing on you.

Okay so for your teachers I'm getting that they see you as "My buddy" Or "save this student at all cost " Or something like that. Now take that how it resonates but I'm also getting that they might think that you lack confidence? They see you as someone who is good with everyone but likes to do their work alone. They type to do the group assignment all by themselves even though they got paired with their friends. Your teachers see you as the student who's ready nice but won't tolerate bullshit and hates to be told what to do and how to do certain things. Your teachers might think that you won't ask for help and is a little hesitant to talk to people sometimes. They see you as Someone assertive. And needs to gain confidence.

Pile 3

Welcome pile3! I'm getting that your classmates see you as the person who's working very hard and trying their best. The type of student who always has their nose buried in books and always talk about the next test and the subjects they are bad at. For some of you I'm getting that your classmates think that you're hiding something. I'm also getting that they see you as someone who has a whole different personality at school and changes into their different self the second they feet leave school. You give off the vibe of Peter Parker. For example how he is a super hero but no one knows that. Even at school people see him as the average student . You might skip school a lot too. I just heard " There's a lot about me that people don't know. And I would like to keep it that way" . They also see you as someone who tries very hard to be like everyone else.

Your teachers really be hyping you up. They want to see you succeed and see all your wishes come true. There's a male teachers who really has high hopes for you and wishes the best for you. For some of you I'm getting that there's a female teachers who's very strict and might be called rude, who Sees the potential in you. You might be being burdened by work from this teacher but in her mind she's doing the best for you. Your teachers see that you're tired and stuck. They think that you're going through something that you don't want to share. And they wish that you would be a little good to yourself. I heard " You're doing great sweetie" . Your teachers see you as someone who has had enough and just wants to rest. They see you as someone who needs to rest and recover and remain positive.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 7)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

“What’d you think? Should we climb it?” Tyson asks his district partner, teasingly.

She is two years his junior, still not an idiot. The giant pile of sand funneling in from the top of the arena is no hiking expedition. “No, we should save our strength, like Haymitch said.”

“Did you know the tallest mountain in the world was called Mount Everest? Before the founding of our great nation?” He presses on, largely ignoring Y/N’s sage advice.

“What do they call it now?” She wonders.

“Trick question; tallest mountain in the world was actually Mauna Kea.”

“Now’s a bad time for trivia.” Y/N decides, a hand at her brow to shield the blazing sun.

“It’s the only time we’ve got.”

Y/N startles awake, as she always does from dreams of him. Dreams of a stranger, who in under two weeks became her best friend. The games are funny that way, time moves differently there. People who standby you in the arena become closer than people you’ve known for years. The ones that haunt you forever.

She thinks of him often. Though Y/N never had a brother, she decided a long time ago, that is where Tyson fit. How he taunted and teased her, protected and loved her, all at the same time. And when she named her son Everest, sealing the tiniest drop of Tyson in her blood, Y/N found some peace with it. Giving new life to the boy who died so that she might live.

When she hears Peeta recounting the day he fell in love with Katniss, her heart sinks. The gamemakers won’t let them both win. They can’t. President Snow simply won’t allow it. And if what they’re saying now is true, even if one of them survives…

“There’s backstory,” Haymitch muses.

Maybe he believes Seneca would do it, two victors. Or maybe he just wants her to believe that he believes. One thing about Haymitch is that he will lie, either straight up or simply omit key details to shield Y/N. Protect her at any cost, as if she were some fragile thing.

She used to hate it, until she understood. Not fragile; precious. Something more valuable than money, or secrets, even booze. If anything happened to Y/N, his world would simply stop turning. The sun would set and never rise. She is a precious commodity of extremely limited supply. She could never be replaced.

“You need medicine for that leg.” Katniss changes the topic of conversation.

“I don’t get many parachutes.” Peeta admits, though he doesn’t tell her why.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Like what?”

“Something.” Katniss huffs, into the dimly lit cave.

“I think that was the green light on the meds for Peeta.” It’s go time. Haymitch rises from the bench, offering his hand.

This particular offering will not come cheap, it’s time for the original lovers of district twelve to do what they do best. Work an angle.

————————————————————————

“What do you mean we can’t send medicine? We’ve always been able to send medicine.”

“Not my rules, Mrs. Abernathy.” The woman behind the counter says.

“Of course not, you just work here.” Haymitch smiles.

The Capitol employee returns the gesture.

“We’ve been raising this money all day and Y/N is obviously upset that we can’t go through with sending the medicine, but we understand. Is there any information you could give us to help put our minds at ease about the condition of our tribute?”

The woman looks to Y/N now. District twelve tributes rarely make it this far and everyone is quite taken with the young lovers. Against her better judgment, she motions for Y/N to lean down toward her. “There will be an opportunity for your tribute to receive medicine tomorrow.”

“Is there anything we can send today?” Y/N asks.

“You can send soup.”

“Soup.” Haymitch repeats, with false enthusiasm. “We’ll send them soup.”

————————————————————————

“Attention tributes, commencing at dawn, there will be a feast of sorts, at the cornucopia. Each of you need something desperately and we plan to be…generous hosts.”

“And that is why we couldn’t send medicine,” Haymitch laughs, staring down at the contents of his cup.

They’re trying to wrap this up, everyone’s off in different directions. Bring them back together for one hell of a show before curtain fall.

“Five needs food. Thresh just got bread so…maybe weapons? Two needs…armor? I don’t-” Y/N presses a finger against her temple, desperate for answers.

“You feeling ok?” Haymitch’s brow furrows.

“Yes,” Y/N bites out.

Her husband reels back. It is not uncommon for Y/N to mourn tributes, even ones that aren’t theirs. It is unlike her to take it out on him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Y/N apologizes, immediately. Taking one of his hands in hers.

Haymitch turns his gaze to their twined fingers, she’s shaking, “when’s the last time you ate something?”

“Not hungry.”

“You need to eat,” he decides.

“Nothing tastes right.”

“Listen angel, if they’re gonna poison you, it won’t be here.”

“I must be coming down with something.” Or the stress. Despite all of this, she’s never faired well under duress.

“Probably why you puked in that lady’s ice bucket.” Haymitch notes.

“You know what does sound halfway decent?”

“Hmm?”

“Those little cream puffs with powdered sugar on top.”

Haymitch grins, “I’ll bring a plate.”

He hovers after that. Y/N can’t stand hovering, but she tolerates it. Understanding that it comes from a place of love. She didn’t mean to worry him.

Haymitch can’t sleep. Even after Y/N is out cold.

“I love you so much, Haymitch.”

She who brushes wayward hair from his eyes and runs her nose along the length of his, after the sweetest of kisses. She who believes in him and shows him each day there is a reason his life did not end in the arena. She is the best person he has ever known and he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to deserve her. To deserve that selfless, all consuming, love that she gives so freely.

“I love you forever.” Maybe even longer.

In that, at least he knows there is no cause for concern. Their marriage will not crumble, come hell or high water. Haymitch knows how badly she misses home, their children. In another life he’d ask for ten, as many as Y/N would give him.

The tiny garden, around the back of their house in victor’s village; where Everest plants carrots and other vegetables. Where Arista steals them to feed the wandering geese. The most taciturn, temperamental, creatures she can find are naturally the ones she chooses to care for.

Y/N’s syringes come like clockwork from the Capitol, every three months. Squandering any hope of tiny baby feet. Though she is the best mother, one who plays with her daughter and son, down in the dirt. A mother who loves her children more than anything.

Their lives there are a safe haven, one that exists only in their minds. There is no room for a place like that here. No safety for the children they’ve given life to. Only false hope and broken promises.

And if by some misfortune or Capitol ‘miracle’ a child should slip through, Haymitch would love them. Somehow, someway they’d all make it through. But he hopes, more than anything, that it is not now.

————————————————————————

There is no rush to the viewing room the next morning, everything the tributes need will be at the cornucopia. Katniss gets close to the bag marked ‘12’ and the girl from two is on her. Knocking her back with those damn knives.

They grapple around for a while, before landing with Clove on top. Leaving Katniss no room for escape as she holds the blade to her throat. Haymitch is seated on the bed, watching Y/N pace along the large screen in their bedroom.

Thankfully the boy from eleven takes out one of the two remaining careers. Overhearing her taunt Katniss and brag about killing his district partner.

“Just this time, twelve.” Thresh tells her, gathering his bag from the table. “For Rue.”

With that they’re off; Thresh back to solitude and Katniss to Peeta.

He’s still asleep when she arrives, waking only to the sound of her voice. “I got it. I got your medicine.”

“What happened to you?” Peeta’s eyes focus on the gash across her forehead, courtesy of Clove.

“I’m fine.” Katniss busies herself with opening the canister.

“No you’re not,” Peeta reaches up, “what happened?”

“The girl from two, she threw a knife.”

“You shouldn’t have gone, you said you weren’t gonna go.”

“You got worse.” She replies, simply. Spreading the salve over the length of his wound.

Peeta allows a small cry to pass his lips, grabbing at her wrist. “You need some of that too.”

“I’m ok.” Katniss is more worried about him.

“That feels so much better.” He sighs. “Now you need some too.”

“I’m ok.”

“No, come on. You need it too.”

“Alright.” Katniss finally agrees. Watching Peeta’s tender expression as he thumbs the cream over her injury.

When they wake to the computer generated sunrise and find their cuts have healed, the star crossed lovers set off in search of food.

Peeta to the left, foraging berries while Katniss goes to hunt. Though the separation is not ideal, his heavy footsteps would send any potential prey running. The archer is ready to score them some breakfast when the cannon sounds.

It’s for the girl from five. But Katniss doesn’t know that, so she sets off in search of Peeta.

This time, Y/N and Haymitch are down in the viewing room, overhearing the chatter around them.

“Those berries must be poisonous.”

“I hope Katniss finds him in time.”

Katniss calls out for Peeta again, colliding into him a moment later as Peeta rushes toward the sound of her voice. His fist still closed around a handful of blue berries.

“What happened? Are you ok?” Peeta wonders, holding her tightly as she trembles.

“I heard the cannon. I thought you were dead.”

The boy rests his chin against her shoulder, “I’m right here.”

Katniss pulls back to scold him, smacking the berries from his hand. “That’s nightlock, Peeta. You’d be dead in a minute!”

“I didn’t know,” he stammers.

“Scared me half to death, damn you.” Then she is hugging him again. She can’t explain it, the need to feel him close, know that he is safe.

“I’m sorry.” Peeta breathes, soothing her with a gentle hand, down the length of her back. “I’m sorry.”

When they have settled enough to keep moving, they make the discovery of the red head’s body. Her mouth stained magenta and a few berries still in hand, eyes wide and open.

“I never even knew she was following me.”

“She’s clever.” Katniss always thought so.

“Too clever.”

Katniss leans down, collecting the berries from her hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Maybe Cato likes berries too.”

It’s only half past noon when the sun sets, quickly and without warning.

“Must be in a hurry to end it.” Katniss reasons.

Y/N’s leg is bouncing faster now, vibrating almost.

Haymitch reaches out a hand, resting it atop her thigh to still it.

They wait there, in uncomfortable silence, until the sound of mutts causes Y/N to jump. Even Haymitch flinches when the animals appear, like something out of a nightmare, bits of the fallen tributes mixed in.

They take Thresh, tearing him to pieces and Y/N doesn’t fight when Haymitch wraps her up in his arms. Making a place for herself in his lap, legs dangling over the side of his, not caring if she is heavy. He of course, doesn’t mind, pressing a kiss to the underside her jaw.

Cato is waiting at the top of the cornucopia. When Peeta and Katniss inevitably end up there, the three of them have it out. With Cato’s arm around Peeta’s neck, Katniss is left with no good choices. If she shoots the career’s hand where Peeta is pointing and she misses… But if she doesn’t shoot, he’ll kill Peeta anyway. She takes a deep breath and lets the arrow fly.

Cato’s death is a quick one, a mercy he may not have shown with roles reversed. But it is over, leaving just the tributes from district twelve. Gone is the shadow of night, the sun returning to illuminate the finale.

“Attention, tributes, attention, there’s been a slight rule change.”

Katniss draws her bow, fearing that they are somehow not alone.

Haymitch shifts, bracing himself.

“The previous revision allowing two victors from the same district has been…revoked. Only one may be crowned. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor.”

Katniss and Peeta turn back to one another.

“Go ahead.” Peeta insists, “one of us should go home. One of us has to die, they have to have their victor.”

“No,” Katniss tosses her weapon down, stepping over it to close the space between them. “They don’t. Why should they?” She pulls the nightlock from her pocket.

“No,” Peeta covers her hand with his own.

“Trust me.” Katniss whispers, “trust me.”

And Peeta does, accepting the berries into his palm.

Haymitch lets out a breath, patting the outside of Y/N’s thigh, affectionately. “You did it.” He murmurs, “there’s your victors.” Even though it isn’t fair, even though there will be nothing to show for it. They won.

Y/N leans farther into his embrace. Wishing more than anything for the chance to tell Peeta that she is proud and to tell Katniss…

“Together?” The boys asks.

“Together,” Katniss repeats.

“Ok. One.” Peeta runs his fingertips down the length of her braid.

“Two.”

“Three.”

Together they raise the poison toward their lips.

“Stop.” A voice rings through the arena, “stop! Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the winners of the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games.”

For this, the four of them will surely be punished.

Part 8

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004

[boyharder]

the hunger games, for all its adroit, nuanced storytelling about capitalism and how it crushes those under it by the heel, oppression, war, death, cruelty, love, and the means of power and how those equipped with it do wrong, — even after seeing how it burns a hole in society, also gives you room to root for and care for a minority that is not often thought about, and is continually showcased in media as one of the most villainized types addiction. alcoholism.

through collin's portrayal of haymitch, she paints a picture of a man who we'd supposedly find lazy, writhing in his pathetic nature at the hands of — what? we don't learn right away. haymitch is sharply presented as the only living victor of district 12, the maudlin, roguish pariah who is consistently deluged in the throes of inebriation. his entrance is unattractive and far from pretty as his drunken way leads him to babble what we think is incoherency, the mouth of a drunk is an unsmart one — until we get, “she's got spunk! more than you! more than you!” and he's pointing at the capitol's cameras. katniss says here,

“Is he addressing the audience or is he so drunk he might actually be taunting the Capitol?”

this right here is our first clue on haymitch being in the rebellion, and of his intelligence. many would think of this as a throwaway line, but for what comes later? it is significantly important. moving through the story, haymitch as a mentor is harsh, sharp-tongued and equally hard-fisted after katniss and peeta end up having to near-attack him in order to earn his mentorship.

realizing their potential, a sliver of his story is already told. swayed simply by action, and not pleas, haymitch (as katniss eventually says,) was likely a mentor who dedicated himself to seeing his tributes’ success, each time with no avail. what we as a reader, and katniss as a narrator is yet to find out until catching fire, that it's one of the most correct statements about himself. disproving the lazy, dissmissive stereotypes, almost immediately does haymitch jump into action in order to benefit katniss and peeta, sobering up enough to keep clear minded (which is already a feat under the influence,) and giving genuine, life-saving advice.

their win is due to the advantage of the year — stylists with an eye of precision in which create a glowing impression of the tributes, but it also all comes down to haymitch's compliance as a mentor, and how his ability to get sponsors is doubled in comparison to former years. he is the first to have 2 tributes, after 46 passed in prior years during his consistent solo mentoring, equally win the hunger games within the same year, although displeased to put them through that suffering.

haymitch’s flaws don't just stem from his addiction, they do come as a result of trauma. closed-off and stoic, he objects himself to a life of depravity — both coming from his victory during the premise of the 50th hunger games and second quarter quell, or even a long while after. able to piece together the way he not only outsmarted the likes of 47 people in arena where the odds were double, haymitch's surface layer peels off to show the claw marks in which his life experiences have wounded him with, which only becomes apparent due to the third quarter quell and his fellow victors, including katniss and peeta returning to the arena. his depravity comes from constant grief, constant losses, constant failure.

[anamericangirl]

I'm sure you've gotten this question before so I hope I'm not bothering you and I apologize if this isn't articulated very well.

What do you think of Project 2025?

I've looked into it and it seems that the consensus on the right is that it's a Think Tank document and the consensus on the left is that democracy will 100% end and we're not going to have any rights anymore.

The main reason I'm asking this is because my best friend is center-left and is genuinely convinced America is going to collapse to the point where she's considering moving somewhere else entirely. She's making herself paranoid and depressed over it. I've tried my best to comfort her but ever since she's found out about it, she's been spiraling into full panic mode and it's all she talks about. I'm sad and nervous for her and I don't know what to do.

I consider myself center-right politically. I personally don't think our rights are going to be taken away, but I will admit that her paranoia is rubbing off on me a little due to how much she talks about it, and how much it clearly scares her. I'm completely lost on how to calm her down since she originally brought it up out of nowhere (and I'm not very good at dealing with stressed people, to be honest - I've never seen her like this). I'm trying to remain neutral when I talk to her purely because the truth is that we have no idea what's going to happen in the future, and if something does, we'll deal with it (which is what I told her when she first told me about it). Because she's already made up her mind that this country is doomed, she hasn't considered any alternative possibility and I haven't even tried to say anything else other than what I previously mentioned. It's more or less, "Wait for the future to pan out (because I know you won't listen if I even suggest that this isn't going to happen").

I might get flak from people but from what I've read on your blog, you seem to know what you're talking about, so I was hoping you had some advice? Thank you, either way.

Hi you’re not bothering me at all :)

You are correct that our rights are not going to be taken away. And even if Project 2025 was a plan to take rights away from people it doesn’t matter because Project 2025 isn’t happening. It’s nothing more than a conservative wish list that the left is creating a boogeyman out of because they have nothing else. Trump isn’t associated with it and it’s not his agenda.

Your friend is paranoid and freaking out about it because she is just listening to and giving in to the relentless fear mongering of the media and democrat party. But I bet she has no actual knowledge of Project 2025. I bet she has never looked it up, never read it, never taken the time to see what it is or even checked out Trump’s agenda to verify that it’s not aligned in any way. Because anyone who is scared of it isn’t doing any research about it. They are just sharing and repeating headlines.

People who aren’t freaking out about it aren’t freaking out about because we’ve looked into it and immediately saw it was nothing more than a wish list headed by the Heritage Foundation and it’s not Trump’s agenda that he will implement if he wins the election.

And if you pay attention, you will notice leftists are the only ones even talking about it and if they stopped it would go away completely. They are just using it as a distraction to try and keep people from focusing on just how bad they are.

Leftists are always saying democracy is ending and the only thing that can save it is voting for them. It’s their new thing. They have to try and scare people into voting for them because even they can’t think of any actual good things they bring to the table or how their policies will benefit the American people so they have to lie and pretend things like Project 2025 are out to get everyone when Project 2025 has nothing to do with either candidate.

I am sorry that you are in such a difficult situation with your friend. It’s hard to reason with a person who has let themselves go to the point where they are so scared of a complete nothing burger that they are panicking and genuinely afraid of losing rights.

And it’s incredibly easy for them to do because they can just say anything they want is “Project 2025” and people will believe them because they don’t bother to fact check.

It can be hard not to get nervous when the people around you are so paranoid and I think it’s wonderful that you are trying to calm your friend down and help her see that we’re not doomed like she has been led to believe.

You might not be able to get through to her at this point but I would encourage you to look at (and encourage her to look at) Project 2025 completely independently of whatever the media says about it so you can form your own opinions. Look at the agenda for yourself and ask what is so bad about it? What’s the worst thing on it? How is it going to destroy “democracy”? What rights is it going to take away? I don’t expect anyone to sit there and read the entire thing because it’s like 900 pages but if people are going to be freaking out about it they should at least be willing to take a look at what they have been convinced is the end of the world.

And then go look at Trump’s agenda and see that it’s not the same thing. Trump’s not talking about it or promoting it and it’s not his plan. So exactly what is there to be afraid of?

[orphic-musings]

Genius Invocation TGC released a card of... you!

Monstatd Liyue Inazuma Sumeru Other

Characters: Cyno, Dehya, Nilou, Collei, Tighnari, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Nahida, Jeht

Genre: Fluff, crack!, maybe a tiny sprinkle of angst for some characters

Warnings: None... well it talks about your card being defeated....

Summary: Genius Invocation TCG has taken all of Teyvat by storm! People from all over have decks of cards; ask almost anyone and they'll be down to play a round. You earned great renown from being a famous adventurer… or maybe you're a travelling merchant, or a bard from Monstadt. Maybe you're a scholar from Sumeru, a Knight of Favonius, a Tenryou Commissioner or even a member of the Liyue Qixing. Whatever you do, you garnered the attention of the creators of Genius Invocation! How do your favourite genshin characters react to a new card, of none other than you, being released?

Notes: WOWIE okay so this might be one of my more ambitious projects! I'm going to make a series that will hopefully include every playable character and even some beloved NPCs! I'll keep them as short headcannons because there's a lot of characters to go through, and I'll do my best to make them non-repetitive.

•Cyno would show off your card to everyone, proud to have it in his deck. He would always play it, it would be his trump card. His entire deck is based around your card

•He would actually get jealous if he saw someone else using your card.

•Often uses his own card alongside yours… what? the combos are an instant win!

•Definitely owns more than one of your card both regular and shiny. One for playing and one for his collection.

•Blatantly tells people they don’t know how to use your card properly, or gives them advice on how to play better if they lose with you.

»»————-　♡　-————««

•Dehya is impressed you got your own card. She is happy for you and will tell everyone that it’s the best card.

•She uses your card often and will rub it in the face of everyone she beats. “See! This is the strongest card out there!”

•Jokes about keeping you in her pocket… literally. Carries it in a different pocket than the rest of her best because it’s not just a card it’s like a little part of you with her.

•Gets annoyed whenever people knock out your card. She’ll tell them they’ll regret it and then pays them back tenfold. If she loses your card it won’t be in vain.

»»————-　♡　-————««

•Nilou never really played cards, but seeing that there was one based off you? Well now she HAS to try it.

•Would join the theatre's game nights and be super excited to try your card!

•I feel like she would get pretty competitive with it, she would try so hard to keep your card alive. She even sacrifices her other cards to save you.

•If she loses she won’t get discouraged. She’ll practice more so she can win next time, she doesn’t want to let you your card down!

»»————-　♡　-————««

•Collei would be sooooo excited to see a card of you! She thinks it’s so cool and is happy that you both have cards!

•Would be very hyped to play a round using your card but if she loses…

•She would be so sad if your card got knocked out. Would apologize to you and would be too scared to use your card again.

•If she did use your card again she would always sacrifice her card first. (Please give her a hug and tell her it’s just a game and that she could never let you down.)

»»————-　♡　-————««

•Tighnari would be intrigued about your card. He would be curious to see what the card’s abilities are, though he still thinks yours are cooler in real life.

•He wouldn’t use your card all the time, only when a situation requires it. He’d be careful and tactful using it, but it always pays off.

•He never loses when he uses your card. Some might think your card is overpowered or his lucky charm, but he just knows how to maximize its strengths.

•Would be a bit jokingly peeved that you got a care before him.

»»————-　♡　-————««

•Alhaitham wouldn’t react much on the surface, much like anything else, but he would understand the significance this holds for you. After all, of all the people in Teyvat there aren’t that many cards.

•Would feel a small amount of pride for you, and he would play your card the next time he begrudgingly accepts to play cards with the boys.

•He’s annoyingly objective about the strengths and weaknesses of your card. But when he knocks out all of his opponents in only a few rounds… well, you’re just glad he’s using your card well.

•If anyone calls favouritism for him using your card so often he just shrugs it off, saying your card simply synergizes the best with other cards, allowing for many different combinations to win in any scenario.

•Definitely gets jealous annoyed when he sees others using your card because only he can use your card he claims others don’t know how to properly use it.

•Bonus: Kaveh would ask you to confiscate your card from Alhaitham's deck so he stops losing to him on game nights LMAO

»»————-　♡　-————««

•Kaveh would be SO hyped about your card and would make sure EVERYONE else knows that.

•He would win 1 (one) round with your card and claim it’s the best card ever and it’s his lucky card and he’ll win every game with it

•Then he goes on a 5 game losing streak.

•He would be bummed about it and would probably ask you to bless it or imbue it with good luck or something.

•Would actually do some looking into your card’s abilities and what other cards go best with it just so he can prove to you show others that it IS a good card and he can win with it!!!

»»————-　♡　-————««

•Nahida would thinks it’s so cute that they made a little card of you and that it makes you so happy!

•Because of her curiosity and because she accidentally saw into your mind and knows that it would make you happy she would try out the game.

•Goes without saying that she would win… but she would probably get really into Genius Invocation after that.

•Starts building a deck and challenges people whenever she has free time.

»»————-　♡　-————««

•Jeht would love to have a card of you! She always keeps it with her and whenever she plays against random travellers or merchants that she encounter she uses your card. It’s like having you with her 🥺

•If she won with your card she would be so happy and would jump around but if she lost…

•At first she would feel like you betrayed her.. but then she takes it out on her opponent. I love her but she’s a bit of a sore loser.

•Probably just looks at the card when she’s lonely and she misses you. She talks to the card and tells stories of her journey as if she were talking to you, and promises she’ll tell you in person one day. I love her so much her story is so sad she deserves so much better please let me hug you and be with you always omg

[dailyadventureprompts]

DM Advice: More Than You Can Chew

Time and again I’ll have folks write in with a really solid idea for a big picture campaign concept or third act twist with a request to help bridge the gap between the low levels/start of the campaign and the thing they’re excited for. I love helping these folks, but as someone who looks for structural answers to problems it’s made me think there might be something lacking in how we’re teaching DMs to tell stories.

If I had to break it down into pure fundamentals: The constant guiding theme in any and all adventure or campaign writing is that whatever the party happen to be doing, whether it be hunting monsters, protecting an ally, exploring a ruin, or planning a heist, It’s only a piece of a far larger story. This larger story operates at a greater scale than the party currently has a means of dealing with, initially making them feel like small fish in a big pond and providing a great sense of achievement when they finally do manage to take on the larger threats.

 On a Campaign Basis:

When plotting a story arc you should start with a goal, something difficult but conceptually achievable that the party can throw themselves at with cleverness or daredevil bravery. Rescue the Heir, Save the Village, Avert the Disaster, Steal the Jewel. The task is not impossible, but the solution is not obvious requiring them to explore, be crafty, and get inventive. It’s best if they’re invested in accomplishing this goal in some way, so make the stakes personal and resonant with the characters and their desires.

In the background however you’ve got something else cooking, a larger story that the party are only pieces in, a conflict between individuals and forces far larger than they’ve previously dealt with that’s been going on unseen. Start with how the party achieving their initial goal will affect the world: who’s it going to piss off? what tenuous balance does it disrupt? What had to be done to keep that balance in place? Do any of the power players in this arrangement see the party as their opportunity to make a move and so throw their support behind this seemingly innocuous goal? What prices do they extract?

Villains are generally going to be your primary link between the small and large scale stories, but it’s important to set them up correctly; the villains are acting/reacting in relation to the larger story and their actions trod on the lives of the party/the people the party care about. In trying to correct this injustice (if only for selfish reasons) the party gain the villain’s attention/the attention of that villain’s enemies ( though whether they be allies or villains themselves depends on the story) and suddenly find themselves caught up in the events of the larger narrative.

While it’s a good idea to plan the goal based adventure as something the party can objectively “win”, I prefer setting up the background scenario as a delicate sort of jenga tower: things were inevitably going to fall apart but there’s no way to predict how. That’s because your players a) are chaos agents b) have agency, and it’s all about seeing how they choose to act/react in the face of an overwhelming scenario. 

The small scale story is about the lives of the heroes/people, where as the larger scale story is about the outcome of ideas/the world.  You do the small story first because getting your audience to care about themes and lore is best done through getting them to care about characters first, and then using their plights and passions as a lens to see the bigger picture.

Advice on using this technique on specific adventures under the cut:

You give your party an idea what they’re supposed to be doing, likely in line with the central gameplay pillar. Again, challenging but achievable, they can guess at the steps they’ll need to succeed even if they need to do some prepwork

Be sure to mention specific risks or unknowns that go along with this task, inviting them to take countermeasures or go off the safe path for potential gain.

Figure out some plothooks and emotional appeals: sympathy, greed, amusement, power, fear. Figure out the notes your party best responds to and learn to alternate them between adventures. Playing the same note too many times makes your party not want to bite the plothook.

Do some worldbuilding, whether tying it into existing lore or spinning up some new ideas: Why are things happening this way, why now?

Now figure out the twist, the thing that’s going to happen someway along your adventure that’ll shift the party from predictable challenges to unpredictable ones. Hired to protect a merchant’s valuable cargo along dangerous roads (combat)? Turns out its an enslaved sentient creature destined for a terrible fate, which the party could free at great personal cost ( ethical). Delving the ruin so the local wizard will kit you out with gear (exploration)? Woops, you’ve come back to find his petrified body smashed to bits in what just might be a magical assassination ( mystery).

Flipping the challenge on its head in this way is what makes an adventure memorable as it gives your party that “oh shit” moment that kickstarts their brain into alertness. A twist that’s predictable isn’t a twist, which is why so many “shadowy employer betrayal” adventures fall flat. Likewise, giving them a somewhat predictable challenge at first gives them material to improvise solutions to emergent, unpredictable problems.

It’s always a good idea to figure out what failure looks like for this adventure. Killing the party off is likely to be unsatisfying, but making them live with their mistakes is what makes a campaign into an actual story. Set up npcs who’s lives will be ruined, have the party’s enemies grow in strength, make them lose out on potentially valuable treasure. These not only give weight to your player’s choices but they act as their own plothook later down the line when you give the party a chance to undo what they’ve done.

[purble-turble]

one of the reasons I thought the mercy goddess getting involved would be interesting is because from what I know about her she comes off as very emotionally and mentally grounded and mature. She definitely seems to be one of the more rational and empathetic of the gods; someone capable of seeing things from different perspectives. Mk and Nezha's issues are partly due to feeling invalidated and maybe even villainized for doing something they know to their core was right. the world was already at its breaking point, and Nezha and his home/family were already cornered with everyone demanding his atonement. In both events, the situation was already dire and there wasn't any time or opportunity to find an alternate route. they could only act and were only given one real answer as to how, and no one seems to fully acknowledge that. not to say everyone else feelings are invalid or lesser, but I think the problem is that there not going about this situation right, and that could likely be a response to the trauma of almost losing MK. I just feel like she'd be able to help everyone navigate things better, giving validation, and gentle corrections were needed. I also totally want her to give the "I'm not mad, just very disappointed in you" talk to Red's disciple buddies for how poorly they've been handling things regarding Red's relationship and breakup.

Yes you’re definitely right there! Guanyin’s whole thing is compassion, which requires one to think about what the other person must be feeling and try to understand their suffering.

MK and Nezha both have been in a no-win scenario where they felt they had no choice, where if they didn’t sacrifice their own lives then something much worse would happen to everyone they cared about. Then, when they managed to survive it or get revived, those very people get upset with them for what they viewed as an entirely logical handling of the situation. Guanyin can look at this from an outside perspective, see the pain each of these parties is feeling about this terrible thing that happened to them all, and offer some comfort while also helping them to see it from the others’ perspective. Sure, MK wanted to save the world, but his family felt abandoned when he rushed off to do it himself. Surely he understands the pain of feeling abandoned? Perhaps he can empathize with that.

Just by switching up the language in this way and approaching the two boys without an air of judgement that might otherwise put them on the defensive, she could definitely get through to them. It would take more than just one talk to get them to change course, but the respect Nezha has for Guanyin would certainly go a long way in getting him to take her advice to heart (which he may not have been willing to do with anybody else, especially not with him and MK continuously hyping each other up about how right they are in private discussions) Maybe someday, with enough encouragement, MK might even be willing to admit that insisting on sacrificing himself the way he did, while he thought it was the only way at the time, may actually have been a little selfish… that’d take a long time, but he might come around.

As for Prince Red’s friends, yes they would get lightly scolded for sure about how they’ve been handling his breakup with MK. They need to be more mindful about others’ feelings. It’s clear that the prince still has feelings for the Monkie Kid, even if he was the one to break up with him, and the heartbreak he’s enduring has not been made any easier by their antics. Badmouthing MK might make them feel better, but it does nothing to alleviate Prince Red’s suffering, and in fact makes him feel worse. So they really do need to work harder on keeping others’ feelings in mind and being more compassionate… nothing stings like hearing from your former master Guanyin herself that you haven’t been compassionate enough. So that sits with em for awhile 😂

[tai-vas]

a continuation of this

Let’s imagine a world which was slightly different, slightly kinder in a way but crueller in others. A world in which one girl’s rebellion might have saved a country. And that girl was Yong-hi.

Yong-hi, who was a curious and inquisitive child. Yong-hi, who was brave and fearless, but too smart to run into danger without a thought. Well, at least most of the time. Okay, she tried to think before she leapt, at least. Usually. Sometimes her curiosity got the better of her, but that what planning on her feet was for.

 Because, you see, her curiosity was a force to be reckoned with. While most people in her tribe were, or pretended to be, content with what they had and strongly discouraged any interaction with the world beyond their borders, Yong-hi was utterly bewitched by the unknown, downright eager for every scrap of knowledge she could get her hands on.

Mind as bright and curious as this one, she felt utterly stifled by the rules and borders of the enclosure she lived in.

One day, when the walls grew too oppressing, the atmosphere too stifling and distance between her and her clansmen too vast, she run away. Just to take the edge off her wanderlust, just to breathe freely for a little while. She disregarded the rules and sneaked away. She was nervous, yes, but excited all the same. She loved her people, she wasn’t planning to be gone forever, she just needed to see.

This small act broke the dam and soon whenever she started to feel like she was suffocating, she planned another trip, just a short one, just a few hours of respite. Soon there were weekly visits to a nearby town, then almost daily, but she still wanted more. Observing was no longer enough, she wanted to talk to people, to learn them, learn from them and make friends, so she did. Yong-hi talked to street rats and children from the slums, first. Even palpable curiosity and excitement didn’t manage to overcome her nervousness completely, and talking with other kids just seemed easier. Though they were wary at first, with time she managed to win them over with her cheerful energy (she might be a stranger, but she was also a kid like them, kid who was always alone, and knew useful things. And she shared her food). Slowly asking her to read aloud written notices turned into impromptu writing and history lessons. She taught them how to neatly mend their clothes, and even how to embroider small decorations when they found colourful thread scraps (she might have been from a small village, but her village was proud of their history and heritage, she was taught those skills as befitting a lady. As if the fact they were King’s descendants mattered, as if they weren’t supposed to live and die in isolation).

 In return, street kids sneaked her bits and pieces of advice, who was nice around these parts, who to avoid, who would sell you stuff cheaper if you bargained just right, and who was a stingy git, alleyways and shortcuts useful when you needed to run away or hide. Yong-hi might have been sneaky enough to slip away unnoticed by her tribe, but she had nothing on the street kids, and so she learnt how to blend in and stay vigilant from them. And how to run away from trouble when she got noticed. She started talking and bargaining with merchants and anglers on behalf of her new friends (well, she did have better-kept clothing and didn’t look like a street rat, just a rambunctious child, so she was bound to be treated better than them), and it turned out she had a real knack for it.

Merchants and fishermen were terrible gossips, too, and knew so many new and interesting things.

When she decided she wanted to marry Yu-Hon, she made it so. The council tried to stop her, but she was determined and too stubborn to let go of her chance. She saw too much of the world, the council did not scare her anymore. So she used her stubbornness, smarts and cunning. And well, she was always curious and sneaky, she has heard some things her leaders would have preferred stayed secret and did not hesitate to threaten to reveal them to get her way.  

This Yong-hi wasn’t a shy person, held back by her inexperience and doubt. She might not be raised to lead, but she was resourceful, smart, and determined. Yong-hi also brought to the table something the ruling family desperately needed – the common man’s perspective. She met people of all classes, she knew their struggles and the reality they lived in. She heard what was said at the markets, whispered in bars and quiet corners, which way the public opinion swayed, what they really thought of their ruling family.

And so, when Yu-Hon told her he wants a wife who he can rely on, he meant it and she listened. She shared with him her own opinions, knowledge she gained, her insight; she helped him see things from a different perspective. She argued with him, tempered his more drastic movements. He did not always agree with her, but he respected her mind and listened to her advice.

She loved her husband, but the palace did become stifling sometimes, so she never really stopped sneaking out to lower town. She met new people, made new friends and acquaintances, gained new debts and favours, made new contacts, and always kept her ear towards the ground. Life in the palace taught her that the ruling family could be woefully unaware how the country and common people are actually fairing, because they mostly interacted with upper class and advisors, and she didn’t want to lose her connection and awareness of common people, and so she put on her old clothes and sneaked out of the palace. Yong-hi was firmly of the opinion that reading briefs and listening to other’s accounts was not enough to fully grasp the situation, you had to be there, to talk to the people themselves to learn what ails them, what sympathies they do have, what they truly need and not what the report filtered through red tape tells you. Some things are kept from the prince’s ear, whether because of the politics involved, or because bringing something viewed as insignificant before the prince would be inappropriate.

So, she was perfectly aware of the priests searching for her tribe, kept herself updated on their progress, tried to discourage them and gently lead them astray, and when her efforts failed and they found it, she learnt of their success before Yu-hon did and managed to deescalate the situation before drastic measures could be taken. Yu-hon’s hatred and distrust towards the priests never abated, and steadily they lost much of their public regard, the massacre, however, has been avoided.

By bringing to the table a third, more balanced, perspective, and serving as a mediator she helped smooth over some of the conflict between the princes. Some differences, however, were irreconcilable, the animosity too deeply rooted, and so the tension still remained. When she saw how well their children got on together, she schemed to unite the families and satisfy Il’s ambitions in one fell swoop by marrying her son with Il’s daughter and end the feud that way (well, she knew the curse her bloodline carried. She wouldn’t be able to always be here to mediate between the brothers. She had to plan ahead.)

People looked at Crown Prince Soo-Won and praised his military prowess and understanding of the country's affairs even at such a young age. The common people adored him for his kindness, for he treated them with respect and inquired after their lives as if they were nobles themselves.

The crown prince has the strategic mind of his father, they said.

He's a credit to King Yu-Hon's parentage, they said.

Little did they know that what they praised wasn’t Yu-hon’s influence. It was Yong-hi’s.

[nutzgunray-lvt]

How Horikoshi Fails To Portray The Underdog Narrative

(All of this is just my opinion, don't take it at face value as I'm obviously not a writer)

I read an interesting article today, and it made me think of our green haired boi and some of the problems that's been noticed in his characterization:

Izuku is supposed to be the classic underdog that we see rise above all odds and become the number one hero, and I'm not saying that the road there is supposed to be perfect and conflict free. I don't want Izuku to be a Gary Stu that gets a good life handed to him on a silver platter (there's already one in the story).

The problem actually comes from two places; the first one being that Horikoshi has gone on record admitting to liking other characters (the abformentioned Gary Stu) more than Izuku, his MAIN CHARACTER. The second one, I believe comes from a beautiful ask that @theloganator101 submitted to @doodlegirl1998 that said something along the lines of: "I have never seen an author portray their main character as such a loser as Izuku is portrayed in the narrative."

There's a difference between giving your character natural conflict to overcome (i.e. an ACTUAL underdog narrative) and making him a flatout buttmonkey and slapping the 'underdog' label on it. Other animes have done a much better job at this; such as Naruto gradually winning over Konoha with his perseverance and Luffy going from someone on a little row boat to captain of one of the most notorious pirate crews in the world.

The article says that there's seven steps to making an underdog narrative, and I will say that Horikoshi did do a good job at step one: make a character the audience will root for. Izuku is incredibly kind and selfless and also happened to be born Quirkless. He faced relentless bullying for +10 years due to this and wants to become a hero so no one else will suffer like he did growing up.

Step two: portraying the disempowerment, is where things fall apart.

I actually don't mind that Izuku was given One For All by All Might, but I do mind how his past Quirklessness is never properly addressed after this. We don't see him wondering if his new friends would actually be his friends if he were still Quirkless. We don't see him aknowledging that despite receiving a Quirk, the bullying he's gone through hasn't stopped. We don't even see him wondering if he still would have been bullied had he always had a Quirk. We don't see his low self-esteem and imposter syndrome properly addressed. We don't see him noticing that even the teachers at UA are letting him be bullied despite having a Quirk now.

This also leads into the opposite problem: we see TOO MUCH disempowerment.

Izuku is struggling to properly use One For All, as it maims him every time he tries to use it. Instead of receiving any proper help for him, he gets criticized for hurting himself, is singled out and has expulsion hanging over his head on the first day of school, and even has the threat of being barred from medical treatment unless he learns how to master One For All without hurting himself. Not once do ANY of these people try giving him any advice or comfort (the only one who does is criticized in narrative for this), but it takes him being on a week long internship to finally learn how to do it.

Does he get any form of acknowledgment for this by those who criticized him and supposedly have his best interests at heart? No. Do they continue to criticize him ever time he slips up? Yes.

The third step: showing the underlying strength of the character, is another one that Horikoshi does a good job at. It's a joke that Izuku's determination should be a Quirk in and itself, and he repeatedly goes the extra mile to make sure that those around him are safe. He tries saving Bakugou from the Sludge Villain. He saves Kota's life from Muscular, helps Ida and Todoroki protect Native from Stain, and makes sure that Eri has a memorable and fun experience at the School Festival.

However, this leads into the problem with how step two is portrayed: this effort is seldom ever praised and only criticized. The Pro-Heroes berate him for trying to save Bakugou (despite them sitting back and doing nothing). He gets in trouble with Hosu's police, despite the fact that Native and Ida would have died had he and Todoroki not intervened. He's threatened with explusion and called a problem child for going to save Bakugou despite the fact that a) the mission was a success and they didn't engage in combat, and b) the mission wasn't even Izuku's idea to begin with. He gets in trouble for fighting Gentle Criminal and La Brava, and his classmates criticize him for "causing trouble" when he abruptly runs off to get candy apple ingredients for Eri (the fourth light novel). No one ever properly sits him down and tells him "you don't have to go the extra mile at your expense. Your kindness is enough." In fact, the only character who praises him for this level of kindness is criticized in and out of universe for it. Any time this red-flag is brought up in universe, it's either ignored, played for laughs, or the blame is unfairly shoved onto someone (usually, the one person in Izuku's corner).

There really is no step four: design a series of challenges and try/fail cycles, because even when Izuku has a 'win', he still gets some sort of set back in order to keep him "humble". There's those I mentioned above, but there's also his Provisional Hero License exam. He passes, but gets suspended from school the VERY SAME DAY because of his fight with Bakugou.

I guess step five: the turning point, would be Izuku learning Full Cowling and Shoot Style, and it does lead him to pass his Provisional License Exam (as well as his attitude). Mastering Black Whip would also be another one.

Step six is the worst one of the bunch in my opinion: show the darkest moment. Izuku leaving UA to protect his classmates and loved ones from All For One and Shigaraki had the potential to be an amazing arc... but it all falls incredibly flat. It tries and fails to properly address Izuku's deteriorating mental and physical state as these Pro-Heroes let him try and draw out All For One and Shigaraki, only to go all Surprised Pikachu Face when he starts pushing himself too hard (All Might at least tried keeping him regularly fed and tried intervening when Izuku struck out away from them).

Class 1A vs Izuku is where this darkest moment makes no sense for me.

Izuku tells them that All For One and Shigaraki are targeting him due to his Quirk. He doesn't want to leave, but he has to for their own protection. All For One now has Ragdoll's Quirk, meaning that he has eyes on Izuku 24/7 now. What's their solution to this? Sending some other teacher or Pro-Hero to try and talk him down? Send his closest friends to try and convince him to come back?

Nope, the entire class rallies behind his bully and literally beats him into submission. They sit by as his bully accuses him of arrogantly trying to be an 'All Might wannabe' (that same bully also tries shoving the blame for Izuku's self sacrificing tendancies onto ALL MIGHT), try guilting him into coming back, and don't once take his point of view into consideration (Ida does have a nice moment with him). On top of all of this, Izuku is later proven RIGHT that they can't keep up with him in this fight. Bakugou's dead, Uraraka is seriously wounded, Tokoyami is seriously wounded, and Jirou has one of her ears cut off. Then everything is solved by an incredibly manipulative "apology" from his bully and a bath! For that matter, the "apology" doesn't even stick!

There's also many minor incidents as well that I couldn't really fit anywhere else: his Quirk Analysis notebooks and mumbling are seen as "creepy" in universe (Endeavor's the only one who takes it seriously), not having any sort of talent or other hobbies outside of being an All Might fanboy.

The story isn't finished, so step seven has yet to be seen, but TL;DR is that Izuku is way more of a punching bag than an underdog, and many of his fans are fed up. Izuku deserves so much more than what he's been given.

[princesscolumbia]

Was originally going to DM but I saw those were closed, I have a sister/sibling who uses she/they and femme/neutral terms interchangeably. She's been unable to transition where we live because she's a minor but she's turning 17 in a few months so her 18th birthday is coming up. I want to start saving up information and advice and help for her so when she turns 18 I can pass it along: I already plan to take her on a shopping spree trip and I know she's planning on starting hormones, are there any tips or advice you have for her? She doesn't have social media for mental health reasons but they stay inside a lot too (they're a hardcore gamer, like, entering competitions to win cash and winning gamer) so I'm not sure that they're hearing much from trans elders (which is why I'm trying to form an information stash)

I'll offer the same advice I'd give myself if I had a chance to go back and tell this to my then-17 year old self. It'll get a little dark, but it's the single most valuable bit of advice I'd be able to offer that poor, abused transgirl in my own past, and may be the best thing your sibling could hear:

Safety is good, but never sacrifice your mental health for the "safety" of your situation. I made the mistake of "waiting" for everything to be "ready" and everyone to be "okay" with my transition because it was "safe," all the while ignoring my own mental health, which in the long term turned out to be a greater threat to my safety than anything else.

Living your true, honest self for yourself is your greatest safety. You can have a roof over your head, warm and comfortable clothes to wear, and food on your plate, but if the cost of all those is denying who you are, that isn't "safe."

And you'll know it, too. Whether it's a parent you have to keep happy, a spouse you have to convince "it's not actually that big a deal," or an employer that refuses to make the workplace a safe environment for trans and queerfolk, the second they even suspect you're not cis-het like them, they'll have the power to control you and make your life miserable. It will be a slow, creeping control that will have you gaslighting yourself just to try and keep yourself from facing the horrible reality that you were complicit in your own oppression.

If there's a component of your safety that is merely a convenient facade that you know could be the crack in the dam, change it. Sooner than later. 18 years old will mean you're no longer subject to parents who might control you. It means the government can't default back to your parents if someone tries to force something on you.

It means you are now free to do what you need to do for you!

It's big, it's scary, and you will not be prepared. You'll be leaving behind a comfort zone for something so nebulous it will legitimately be your personal Undiscovered Country. But you'll find people there who will gladly mom(affectionate) you to death if you have a cough. You'll find folks who'll dad-joke you into the ground while they help you fix your car. You'll encounter people who will tell you weird-sounding advice like, "Always put your silverware in the dishwasher handle down," and you'll realize it makes sense only after you bite the bullet and try it.

(And things like "the vibe" and "cringe" will sound really stupid the older you get.)

You'll need to learn new ways to ask for help, and you'll need to relearn how to accept it. You'll need to figure out things nobody taught you growing up and it'll make you (possibly unreasonably) angry at your folks for not teaching it to you.

But the single best step of securing your safety for your transition is to transition. Don't wait for permission. Don't wait for people to tell you it's okay. Don't wait for the medical technology to be right or the perfect outfit to come along or the mentor who will make it all easier for you, because it's never easy.

Because here's the secret nobody has told you; nobody ever gets permission to be themselves. It's never okay for you to change the status quo that other people are happily leaving in place. Not only is the "perfect" transition the enemy of just doing the damn transition, but what you think you know about transitioning socially/medically/etc. is barely a drop in the bucket of what is actually known and just done that you'll swear it's some grand conspiracy to keep the knowledge from you. (It is and it isn't. It's called 'comp-het' and 'toxic masculinity' and 'unreasonable societal standards of femininity' and 'the patriarchy' and a whole bunch of other stuff that you don't actually know what it means until you've lived outside of the box that society placed you in, but nobody is 'doing it to you,' any more than they're doing it to everyone around you including themselves.) And the perfect outfit is out of season in a month, and the perfect mentor is also only human and WILL fuck things up.

Whatever it is, whether it's popping the question or transitioning or getting a new job or a new place to live or even just switching from cereal to smoothies for breakfast, just do it. If you know it's going to be good for you and you want to do it "eventually," do it now. Don't wait.

If you need permission, congratulations, you have it. If you need everything to be 'perfect,' congratulations, the most perfect moment is now. Shit's gonna happen anyway, might as well pick the shit that happens instead of letting life pick it for you.

Post-script: You're being incredibly brave. Accept the compliment and one day you'll understand how brave you're being and it will humble you how strong you really are.

(And wear sunscreen. That sounds dumb but you'll thank me later.)

[landslided]

Sorry if it's boring, but continuing with LawRusso AU Johnny princess, I really like the "enchanted" movie and I can't stop thinking about Johnny being Giselle singing to the rats and cockroaches to clean Daniel and Sam's house lol

as a rule of thumb it is NEVER boring to send me asks, especially ones like these where i can have fun and think of AUs! and you picked a movie i love so this is just a win win for me!!

let’s get into it:

lawrusso enchanted AU is such a good idea im almost jealous i didn’t think of it myself!!

i think daniel and amanda got divorced amicably a few years ago and she still lives in los angeles but daniel moved back to jersey to be closer to lucille and he took sam with him (im imagining this as a story without anthony because it fits better, sorry anthony).

daniel still works as a divorce lawyer because that is just funny to me and it’s canon to the movie and he has this perpetual look of "im one shirt sleeve caught on a door handle away from snapping" look because being a single father is hard work and yeah, he and amanda co-parent but sam is with him most of the time and by moving here he’s always made himself more prone to special lucille larusso mother attacks of "you never visit even now that you’re so close" "you’re so skinny, do you cook actual food or just eat take out?" "are you coming for christmas? all your cousins will be there and also that nice girl you liked when you were a kid, judy? maybe it’s time to get back into dating, daniel!"

amanda has planned to come into the city to spend the holidays with her daughter and ex-husband and i see her as a platonic nancy role.

sam is in her full princess era and she’s making both her parents crazy with all the singing and dancing (and kicking furniture because she’s a karate princess)

meanwhile, in andalasia, johnny who is both prince(ss) and hero dreams of finding his one true love and sighs at his window. he’s been locked away in a tower by his evil step-dad kreese and he’s waiting for someone to come and save him (or at least just open the door of his magically locked tower because he can surely save himself).

carmen who happens to be a princess and hero herself has gone on a quest to save the lost prince of andalasia and with her help, johnny manages to escape the tower, defeat a forest troll and take back his throne from kreese’s claws. he and carmen tentatively get together (but deep down both feel this might not be the right fit for each other) and as johnny makes his way to his own royal wedding he’s sent to Real Life New Jersey and meets daniel and sam.

i kind of see giselle’s wedding dress for him but with pants for a more Realistic outfit but… screw realism i want johnny lawrence in that EXACT outfit!

also imagine scott mccall the equalizer soft mullet with a tiara, it’s just too good. ALSO imagine carmen IN THIS!!!!

you KNOW she would rock this!!

oh and yeeees, johnny summoning rats and insects in daniel’s apartment to clean and sam is SOOOOO excited because that’s a real life prince(ss) who also happens to be a great fighter and they do karate moves while also talking about johnny’s best friend, a chipmunk called bobby.

sam and johnny going on a shopping spree and buying a bunch of stuff and eating ice cream. johnny going to the hairdresser and having his hair cut to look more traditionally masculine (daniel doesn’t want to look into why it makes him sad) because he he keeps getting looks from people in the street for his dress and long hair.

johnny making clothes out of daniel’s curtains and daniel is all you could just ASK me for MY clothes you are not THAT much bigger than i am. johnny making a gi for sam out of pastel pink flower fabric from an old blanket and daniel is like okay… i have to admit that’s pretty adorable.

johnny in the park singing to daniel, who has been wondering if he should take his mom’s advice and try to get back with amanda, hoooow dooooes she knooooow you loooove heeeer (johnny stop, people are looking at us) and johnny has that giselle/animated princess innocence but there is still very much an edge of assholery to him where every time he can he embarrasses daniel as much as possible.

(carmen running around new jersey trying to find her prince(ss) and being like i kind of hate this i wish this was more sunny, also why do i keep getting questions about being on broadway what is a broad a way)

daniel and johnny fighting because johnny keeps saying carmen will come get him and daniel is so fed up with it ("no, johnny, it’s just not gonna happen." "no? is that the only word you know, larusso? no?! oh my god you make me so, so so!!!" "so what?" "so angry!" cue sparring in the living room because that’s how they deal with emotions )

johnny and daniel falling in love montage and then CARMEN AND AMANDA FALLING IN LOVE MONTAGE!!! YES I WILL SNEAK CARMANDA IN EVERYTHING EVER!!

kreese coming to new jersey to finish the job, daniel and johnny going to the ball and daniel giving johnny a true love’s kiss, kreese turning into a dragon and kidnapping daniel, johnny chasing them on the roof with carmen’s sword in his hand and finally getting rid of his evil step-father to save his one true love!!

"is this an habit of yours, daniel? falling off of stuff?"

"only when you’re there to catch me."

lawrusso new jersey happy ending and carmanda los angeles happy ending because amanda wouldn’t go to andalasia when sam is there and hey! carmen would love a break from being a fairytale hero! she wants to go to the beach!

daniel quits his job because it makes him miserable and he and johnny open a dojo together which sam is very excited about and lucille is so happy that her son has found someone and seems to be happier than ever.

they all go to andalasia once in a while to visit bobby and the other three chipmunks (you know who they are) and they all live happily ever after.

the end!

[luminouslywriting]

Chapter 7 (Mastermind)—MOTA Fic

A/N: This one is admittedly a little fun and Ruth might be channeling her inner Sobel because she's so annoyed, but who can blame her haha? As always, let me know what you think!

A night out with the British Red Cross girls and the Red Cross girls from Thorpe Abbotts didn’t necessarily strike Ruth as something she would do for fun.  Especially considering that the next day would come all too early and the men would be flying a mission and Ruth would be eagerly awaiting any updates regarding their mission—given the advice she had given Harding earlier that same day. 

Submarine pans in Norway were the up and coming target. Given the fact that her brother was in the Navy and the U-Boats continued to bomb and derail a lot of the Navy’s hard work, Ruth found particular satisfaction in this particular mission. 

Anything that could help one of her brothers was a win in her standards.  And considering that they desperately needed to gain some headway in reaching Germany, taking out the U-Boats would allow for the US Navy and Allied Forces to make their way to the beaches, if successful.  And if they could take the beaches, then they could take the rest of the damn country too. 

Still, Ruth tried to focus on the task at hand.  Her lipstick gently pressed against her lips until the Victory Red was in its proper place and then she turned, finding Helen and Tatty waiting for her.  “You didn’t have to wait for me.  Work ran late.” 

“Yes we did!” Helen exclaimed, bounding over to her and linking arms with Ruth.  They had even convinced the normally practical woman (who normally wore pantsuits) to put a dress on.  Anything to make it feel like a war wasn’t on and they weren’t in Europe for some sort of horrific relief effort. 

“She’s right, you know,” Tatty said pointedly as Helen brought Ruth over to her. 

“But I’m not a nice socializer,” Ruth whined, ever so slightly. 

Tatty just pinched one of her cheeks.  “I think you can do it.  It’s just for one night and there won’t even be other men around!  They’ll be down the street at a different pub!  This one’s just for us Red Cross gals.” 

“Which I’m not.” 

“Yeah but no one else is going to know that!” Helen said. 

Ruth had never been much of a party-goer.  She had attended several parties back during Law School.  But she had always found herself sitting outside or talking to one or two select people in order to gain a semblance of control.  In large settings, it was easy for her to sink into the shadows and just watch people.  People tended to make a fool of themselves when they thought no one was watching.  

And truth be told, she’d rather save her selective social attitudes for someone who could keep up with her mind and wit.  And thus far, she hadn’t really met anyone that could do that.  

The car ride into town was full of chatter.  Evidently, both Tatty and Helen had made some friends with some of the RAF Red Cross girls, a pair of twins by the names of Lana and Florence.  They seemed to be the most agreeable, from what Tatty and Helen had been saying about them. 

Ruth tried to keep an open mind, she really did.  It was a man’s world, even for a woman trying to make friends with other women.  And considering that she had bitten and clawed her way to this position and turned down several friendships and relationships, Ruth wasn’t about to get caught off guard by anyone.  

She wasn’t even sure it was possible for someone to catch her off guard at this point. 

This pub was much more relaxed, with a mostly female clientele and workers.  A few card games went on in different corners, but mostly it was just women talking and sharing things with one another.  It was almost strange, the stark difference between this pub and the one that the officers usually attended. 

The entire atmosphere was lighter and more relaxed.  Ruth found herself sinking into a chair and sipping on a gin as Helen and Tatty introduced her to Florence and Lana, both of whom were nurses in the RAF.  Ruth extended a hand and both women shook it, warm grins spreading across their faces. 

“You didn’t come out last time and Helen had a ball telling us all about you,” Lana exclaimed, dirty blonde curls bobbing up and down as her energy contagiously spread across the table. 

“All true things, I hope?” Ruth questioned, glancing over at Helen and Tatty. 

“Well,” Florence said, leaning into her hand with a grin.  Her rosy cheeks glistened under the dim light, accented by her freckles and strawberry blonde locks of hair.  “They told us that you’re a JAG-Corp lawyer, went to school in Brooklyn—which I suppose is in New York—and that you’ve already made quite a splash with getting the men up to regulation.” 

“I certainly try my best.  Were you two nurses before the war?” Ruth asked, glancing between the two sisters. 

“Oh goodness no!” Lana said, shaking her head.  “I was a model and Flora here did botany with a few biologists!” 

“That sounds fascinating!” Ruth exclaimed.  “I did a bit of modeling back in High School.  And personally, I preferred earth sciences, but biology is fascinating as well!” 

“I knew you’d get along with them,” Tatty said smugly.  “They’re interesting!” 

“Who did you model for?” Helen questioned, tugging on Ruth’s arm to catch her attention. 

“It was just a few shoots for a winter collection,” Ruth said, a slight blush rising on her cheeks.  

“With who?” All four women questioned at the same time. 

“Vogue.” 

The eruptions across the table nearly left Ruth speechless as they all descended upon her with their questions.  By the time that they were done with the questions about modeling, Helen had completely turned the tide of the conversation. 

“You’re telling me no one ever thought to snatch you up, Miss Vogue?” Helen asked, a doubtful expression on her face. 

“Well I broke things off with my fianceé back during Law School—” Ruth admitted, hiccuping slightly as she took another drink of gin.  

“You were engaged?” Tatty asked, wide-eyed at her.  Truthfully, Tatty didn’t view Ruth as the marriage type. 

“Briefly.  And it just wasn’t going to work out between us. He wanted his wife to stay home and have babies and I—well I want to make a difference in the world and I can’t do that personally from a kitchen,” Ruth exclaimed.  “And then there was Winters, and—damn, he was so nice even when I was breaking up with him.” 

“Who?” Lana questioned, tapping on her arm. 

“He’s the reason I asked for a transfer.  I just know he was thinking about asking me to marry him and I’m not the type to settle down for any man!” Ruth explained.  “Now your turn.” 

Florence just snorted, shaking her head.  “Lana’s run away from the altar no less than four times.  Our father won’t pay for another wedding.” 

“Well I just get nervous, that’s all!” Lana exclaimed.  “You’ve never even had a boyfriend!” 

Her sister flicked her in the arm in response.  “Tone, Lana.” 

Ruth grinned.  “You two remind me of my sisters, except I like you two more.” 

“Flattery!” Lana exclaimed.  “I knew you really did like us!” 

“At this point, you’re going to run off with the RAF Red Cross rather than us,” Helen said, shaking her head at Ruth. 

“I would never.  I love America far too much for that.  Besides, you two are my friends and I don’t say that lightly,” Ruth reassured them warmly.  

It was another two or three drinks before Helen and Tatty were ready to go.  Given the fact that Ruth had kept herself (mostly) sober, she led the way back towards base.  They would be walking, given the fact that the car had just dropped them off at the pub and she hadn’t yet memorized the number to call someone for a ride. 

She just hadn’t needed to know the number beforehand, after all. 

Getting Tatty and Helen back to base was a bit like herding cats, she decided.  Much larger and more prone to disaster cats, that is.  But she was a determined woman and she paired the stern demeanor with a gentle grasp on both of their arms as she tugged them along. 

And this is why her brothers always had her come and pick them up when they were drunk. 

Walking down the street with her two friends, Ruth could hear some cheering going on up above.  She wasn’t sure she altogether wanted to know what the men got up to when she wasn’t around and couldn’t be policing them for infractions.  Unfortunately for both herself and all of these men, her path back to base lay through this street, so there was no getting around whatever the hell it was that they were doing. 

Almost immediately upon turning the corner, Ruth regretted all of her life decisions that had led up to this point.  They had no sooner turned the corner that her eyes laid hold of one of the men of the Hundredth in a fist fight with an RAF-Pilot. 

“Oh shit,” Tatty mumbled, eyes going wide at the sight. 

“Ruthie, no—” Helen murmured, clinging to her arm. 

But Ruth would not be deterred.  She stepped forward as Biddick’s fist collided with the RAF Pilot, immediately giving a loud and sharp whistle—the very same whistle she would use to hail taxis in New York. 

Almost immediately, every man standing there knew that they had colossally screwed up in some way.  Bucky Egan just sat in the middle of it all, shoulders tense and a curse spilling from his lips.  “Damnit boys, I knew we shoulda kept it down.” 

“What the hell is going on here?” Ruth demanded, stepping forward.  As she stepped, all of the men jumped backwards, separating from the other RAF-Pilots.  

“Lieutenant—” Major Cleven started with a wince. 

“Shut up and listen,” Ruth snapped, not even glancing in his direction. Her gaze swept across both groups of men, shaking her head at them.  “I can’t even say I’m surprised by the turn of events.  You’re lucky I don’t write all of you up for this,” Ruth said.  “You’re supposed to be fighting the Nazis, not the damn Allied forces.” 

“Ruth—” Bucky started. 

“I said to shut up and listen!” Ruth’s tone shifted very quickly and he fell silent.  There was the authoritative lieutenant in front of them all—the one who won court cases and left men shaking in their boots about the law.  “Weekend passes are hereby revoked for the next two weeks for those of you in the American armed forces.  I will be writing a report to the RAF as well about weekend passes.  Now please, for the love of all that is good and holy, get your shit together and get to bed so you can fight Hitler!” 

There was a slight grumbling and hesitance and Ruth’s cold gaze swept over the men, getting them moving and back towards their respective bases.  With that taken care of, she shoved back towards Helen and Tatty, grabbed them by the arms and began the trek back towards the base with the men. 

“Weekend passes?  Seriously?” Bucky demanded, falling into line with her. 

“You think I condone your playground fighting and taunts?” Ruth questioned, a withering gaze locking onto him. 

“Well no, but—” 

“Is this the part where you tell me that they started it?” Ruth questioned.  “Because my teenage brother gives me the same excuse and I don’t put up with his shit.  What makes you think I’ll put up with yours?” 

“Damn, it is a good thing you’re on our side.  Some of the time,” Bucky mumbled, shaking his head. 

“Damn straight.  Now get to bed.  It’s for your own good.  Aren’t you flying in the morning, Major?” Ruth asked pointedly. 

“Yes, ma’am.” With that, Bucky turned down the other path towards the men’s barracks. 

Ruth finally let a small smile cross her features.  If she could not be loved, then she would be respected and feared—whatever the cost.  “You’re gonna be a boy mom someday,” Helen said, poking at her cheek. 

“God, I hope not.” 

[anne-chloe]

Underground | IV |

Jareth/The Goblin King x F! Reader

Summary : You advance further into the labyrinth and have an insightful conversation with yourself

"That was incredible!"

You had just performed the hardest solo of your entire career. Throughout rehearsals, you had sobbed and cried that the vocals were too much, that you'd strain your voice. The directors had insisted that they wanted you and nobody else, that you were the very embodiment of the character.

And now, you had successfully outperformed yourself. It was closing night, and you were beginning to mourn the end. You felt teary and emotional; you greeted friends and members of the audience an hour or so after the musical had ended, exhaustion sweeping through you from the numerous late nights you had endured to perfect yourself.

"Thank you, Harry," you said with a loving smile. He wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close. You leaned your head into shoulder, casting an adoring gaze up at him. "What was your favourite part?"

Harry looked away, his eyes locking onto something at the back of the room. His lips twitched, and you were so tired that you hadn't even registered that he wasn't looking at you. Rather, at someone else.

"I couldn't say, it was all magical," he replied breathlessly.

You should have known from that moment.

You used to think back to that moment with fondness, considering you had completed one of the toughest shows of your career. It was a year that made you feel undefeated. But, directly under your nose, directly behind your back, Harry had already begun his journey of a cheat.

You shook your head softly, ridding those thoughts from your mind. You scolded yourself. You couldn't keep reflecting on what Harry had done—you needed to focus on saving him. You needed to continue onwards towards the castle.

The unicorn and the Goblin King had vanished. You were disappointed at being left alone again, being such a social butterfly pinning against you. However, you tried to not take it to heart, and instead fuelled yourself by drinking some water and continuing onwards. You could see the Goblin City just up ahead, and the castle loomed with grandeur beyond it. The sight and closeness encouraged you to push forwards, to ignore your aching feet and exhausted, weary bones.

I'm coming, Harry, you thought, trying to push away the bitterness that brewed within. What would happen once you did rescue him? He might see this rescue as you forgiving him, which you most certainly did not. You just didn't want to leave him in such a place, stripped from his life like this. Cheating on you was a horrible thing to do—if he was unhappy, you wished he'd have just told you instead of stringing you along, giving you the false sense that everything was perfectly fine.

You wanted to abandon him on your own terms. You wanted him to know and realise that he'd lost something so incredibly precious. Harry would never be able to win you back, he'd lost you the moment he looked at another woman in interest. You couldn't ever forgive him for it. You never would.

You approached two unsuspecting doors. Both beheld two knockers, each grumpy and frowning; one had the knocker looped through its ears, and the other had it hanging from its mouth. You hummed in thought, considering both doors carefully. Neither had any indications as to where they would lead, as to whether or not danger lurked behind them. You rubbed your healed arm for comfort, mind thinking back to the Goblin King and his advice.

He didn't have to tell you that the water had healing properties. He could have just mocked you and left, but instead he engaged in a conversation that left you feeling... conflicted. Maybe that was his goal, to throw you off your firm emotions to make you reconsider saving Harry. By being nice, it made out that whisking Harry away was a good thing. While it served as a lesson for Harry, you didn't agree with kidnapping people at all.

"What're ye starin' at?!"

You jumped back in horror as the knocker barked harshly at you. You blinked rapidly, holding your hands up in defence, watching in bewilderment as its eyes opened and glared at you.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to be so rude," you quickly said, feeling a strangeness about conversing with door knockers. You approached it again, curiosity taking over. "I don't suppose you know what's behind this door? Is it the one leading to the castle?"

A muffled, strained response came from the knocker on the other door. You turned to look at it, watching its metallic cheeks puffing out in an attempt to speak, but finding it tricky with a circular knocker hanging from its mouth. You hurried over, taking the knocker into your hands and slipping it from its mouth. It released a satisfied breath, appreciating your kindness.

It licked its lips, moving them freely without the weight of its knocker. "That's better," it sighed happily, and you couldn't help but giggle at its relief. You wondered how long it had been since he was forced to securely hold a knocker inside his mouth. "Much better."

"Happy to be of service," you said cheerfully. "Could you tell me what's behind these doors?" You wanted an answer to your question before proceeding. You didn't want to pick the wrong door and end up somewhere dangerous. You had stamina to run, but for how long? And what if you couldn't outrun the danger? You didn't want to risk it.

"How're we suppos'd to know?!" The other knocker snapped. You looked back at him, sensing that he was rather hostile no matter what. Perhaps he was bitter that his knocker ran painfully through his ears. It's not like you could remove it, either.

You shrugged your shoulders, though you felt a slight disappointment at this. "I just thought I'd ask—"

"What?! Speak up! Yer mumblin'!"

Well. You certainly weren't mumbling. You frowned at the rudeness of him and turned to look at the other knocker, who's knocker you held in your hand. He was much calmer, much more willing to answer your questions for the kindness you had shown.

"Which door should I take?" You asked gently, now spinning the knocker slowly in your hands. It was very heavy, and you could easily see why the knocker didn't want it in its mouth. You'd be miserable too if you had to have something like this. Perhaps this is what would become of Harry if you failed to complete the labyrinth? Would he be forced to remain as a puzzle piece forever?

"They always pick me," the knocker grumbled. You could sense the resentment behind his tone. "Always shovin' that thing back in my mouth." It licked its lips again.

"They always pick you?" You repeated back. There must be a reason for their decisions. Lots of people had come to the conclusion that this was the door to take, but what evidence did you have to say that they picked the right one? You frowned. "Did any of them succeed the labyrinth by picking you?"

If the knocker could move more than it's eyes and mouth, it would have surely shaken its head in denial. "Only one girl, but she had outside help assisting her."

Only one.

"What happened to the others?"

"Their journey ended," the knocker concluded plainly, as if the information didn't upset him. It probably didn't matter; he was merely a puzzle piece within the labyrinth. Only the knocker being returned to his mouth could hurt him.

"Your door must lead to something dangerous," you readily suggested, piecing the puzzle together aloud. "Thank you for your help."

You leaned down and rested the knocker at the bottom of the door. The knocker seemed surprised by your actions, by your lack of persistence in returning it to his mouth. But he didn't say anything. He wanted to believe that you had forgotten to give it back. Even though you saw the pain he went through with it in his mouth.

You turned to the other door, with the grumpy knocker who seemed to be brewing up the desire to shout at you again. You reached up, your fingers brushing against the knocker gently. There were a few cobwebs that had strung against his knocker, meaning that he hadn't been used in a very long time. You raised back the knocker and pounded it three rhythmic times into the door. It creaked open, and you stepped through after whispering a 'thank you'.

As you took a few steps through to the other side, you heard the door slam shut behind you. You turned to face it, frowning at the realisation that you wouldn't be able to back track if needed. You'd have to remain here, even if it turned out the be the wrong direction. You would have to face whatever danger lay in wait, regardless of escape.

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, using calming breaths to soothe your nerves. It would be of no use to remain anxious of the unknown. It would only serve to exhaust and tire you. You couldn't risk that. You needed your energy to succeed.

The door had led you into a labyrinth of mirrors. You stared at your reflection curiously, then turned to look in another mirror. You continued this action before spotting a space without your face; you began walking and following this same manner of thinking. If you couldn't see yourself, then that's the direction you'd take.

And as you walked, you grew lonely with the lack of noise. So you started to sing. A classic 80's song that reminded you of your mother on a Sunday morning, as she cleaned and gutted the house, baking delicious treats in the kitchen to last the week.

"It doesn't hurt me, do you wanna feel how it feels?"

You embodied Kate Bush. You listened as your own voice sung back to you in gentle echoes. It reassured you that nothing else was there, giving you the freedom to stretch your voice again. Walking in silence was... certainly strange.

"Do you wanna hear about the deal that I'm making?"

You paused, chuckling wildly to yourself as you'd almost walked directly into the mirror. You eyed yourself cautiously, feeling as though something was definitely off about the mirrors. You blinked slowly, carefully, leaning closer to the mirror, as if it's secrets would be revealed like this.

Your reflection titled it's head to the side.

You shrieked and stumbled back.

"You moved!" You shouted accusingly, pointing a shaking finger at the reflection. She snickered at your shock, a mocking smile playing on her face. She placed her hands on her hips, pouting and rolling her eyes.

"Of course I did. How else would you have figured me out?" She answered lamely, her voice sounding as an exact copy of yours. She raised her hand and twirled some hair around her finger, a strand that had fallen loose from the bun on her head.

You held your hands close to your chest, as if this action would bring you comfort. "How are you doing that? Are you a real person trapped in the mirrors?" You asked, overwhelmed by the idea. You spared a glance at the other mirrors surrounding you, now taking note of how the various reflections seemed to depict many personalities, all of them starting to do their own thing—sitting on the floor, admiring their nails, kicking invisible dirt out of boredom.

"I'm you," the reflection answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And you're making a major mistake."

You frowned, hands lowering to your sides. "A mistake? What mistake am I making?"

The reflection sighed irritably, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Saving Harry," she answered, rolling her eyes as his name rolled off her tongue. She placed a steady hand over her heart, a look of hurt crossing her features. "Think about what he did to us. Doesn't he deserve to spend the rest of his life here, under the rule of our beloved Goblin King?"

Beloved?

"No," you said sternly. "He'll be treated as vermin."

The reflection moved closer, her hands pressed onto the glass that separated yourself and her. She drummed her nails into the glass, seeming impatient and unamused with your morality. "He'll be treated as he deserves," she corrected, "our King doesn't treat those wished away as terrible as you believe. Harry won't have any memory once he's turned into a goblin."

You gasped at this new piece of information. Turned into a goblin. You'd never considered that as a possibility. You'd just assumed that being trapped in this realm meant he'd be a slave of sorts; he'd become a door knocker, or a statue, or maybe a personal slave of the Goblin Kings. But to have his humanity permanently stripped away from him, with no recollection of you?

"I won't allow it," you argued.

"Won't allow what?" She mused, sensing your rising anger.

"Having his memory snatched is an easy way out!" You continued, furious. Harry wouldn't remember the pain he'd caused you. He'd go on to live a different life, one free of the heartache and infidelity. Whereas you'd be the one to suffer for the rest of your life—you'd be cursed with the knowledge that he'd cheated, picked another woman over you, and that you'd wished him away in the heat of the moment. You'd be tormented and he'd be free.

How was that fair?

You glared at your reflection, and she continued to stare back at you, fully entertained. "I won't let him forget. I'll be the one suffering if he does. Haven't I had enough heartache for one day?"

"Swap places with him," she urged finally, and now she appeared to desperately claw away at the glass wall separating you two. A hungry glimmer was in her eyes. You blinked at her, waiting for further clarification. "If you save him, he'll think you've forgiven him. Make a deal with the Goblin King and have Harry run the labyrinth."

That...

A part of you liked that idea. You'd never forgive Harry for what he had done, and you didn't want to forgive him. But maybe having him run through the labyrinth would teach him a greater lesson?

Though, would he be given the same conditions as you were? That he'd have 13 hours to complete the labyrinth and confront the Goblin King, and would you be turned into a goblin if he didn't succeed? You didn't want to become a goblin, but you figured you'd at least be spared the memory of heartache and betrayal.

"Would the Goblin King even allow that?" You muttered in thought, seriously considering the idea. "Why would he want to swap one human for the other? He'd have to have a reason to do so."

The reflection grinned widely at this. "You don't know, do you?" She teased.

You shot her a confused stare. What didn't you know? Had you missed something? What was she not telling you?

"I don't... I don't understand. What do you mean?"

The reflection started to fade. She placed a finger to her lip, creating a 'shushing' motion. You felt offended that she'd treat you like a noisy child, and you were about to protest against her before the glass panel morphed into a door.

You glanced around at the other mirrors, now realising each of your reflections had vanished in sync, and all that was left were hand crafted paintings of the Goblin King. You eyed them skeptically, wondering deeply if the Goblin King had used some sort of magic in pretending to be your reflection, just to rile you up and prevent you from truly saving Harry.

But what would be to gain from that? You instead of Harry? Why on Earth would he do that?

You huffed in frustration. You couldn't make sense of the Goblin King at all. He really was the trickster he swore himself to be.

You turned to face the door, now resolved within yourself. You reached for the handle and twisted it to the side, and you stepped through to the unknown.