#g/t fanfiction

[smolgloves]

The Crow and the Mouse

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Masterlist |

Summary: The tiefling kids cause a commotion that only stresses Freya out even more.

Tw: dehumanizing language, blood and Angst

Taglist: @sm0lprism @smolkuriboh27 @g-tr4sh @empressxmachina @rose7420 (let me know if you'd like to be added or taken off)

The Journey to the inn was nothing but a blur as the children headed to their destination; Freya couldn't so much as twitch without Mol harshly squeezing her to keep her in check. As her eyes darted around, Freya thought she would catch a glimpse of Lilia fluttering nearby but keeping out of sight, though she wasn't going to hold out hope that the pixie was going to actually save her. She likely wanted to laugh at Freya's misfortune.

Warmth that should have felt like the heavens hit her skin as they rushed inside. Mol held Freya more closely to avoid other tieflings from catching sight of her, however, she did not expect one to step in her pathway.

“What's going on?” A tiefling with long violet locks asked in a frantic voice. “Are you running from something?”

“N-No, Ms. Alfira,” Replied the boy. “Just p-playing a game.”

Her orange eyes at Mol's hand. “What do you have there?”

Freya tried to cry out for help only for the air to be squeezed out of her lungs. “Nothing!”

“And certainly not a tiny person.” The shy kid sputtered out.

Freya didn't need to see Mol’s face to know she was staring daggers at that kid, her fingers twitching as if trying not to ball them into tight fists.

“A what?” The woman stepped closer to Mol. “Show me.”

“It's just an old doll we found.” Mol replied. “Probably belonged to a kid that died from the curse! No one will miss it.”

“Then show me.”

“No!” She jerked away from Alfira, making the borrower's stomach flip. This was getting ridiculous, the longer this kept going on the more likely Freya was going to get hurt. She had to do something! In a moment of desperation, Freya bit down on the pad of Mol's thumb, increasing the pressure until she could taste blood. The metallic taste made her sick, but she refused to let go!

With a yelp, the young tiefling's grasp loosened and Freya dropped to the floor. While the fall wasn't fatal, it certainly wasn't graceful. She landed on her side and cried out as pain shot through her elbow, but Freya forced herself to her feet, staggering away before Mol could snatch her up again. She pulled out her peashooter and aimed for the child's eye. “Grab me again, and you'll go blind!”

“Why you-!”

“What is the commotion about?” The voice of an older woman cut through the inn, silencing any chatter nearby. “This is not a park to frolic about!”

Eyes shot over to them, sending chills down the tiny girl. The soreness and exhaustion prevented her from running. Freya stole glances around the room, hoping to find her friends amongst the small gathering of people but they weren't here! The knot twisting in her belly went from discomfort to down right pain at this point. Where are they?

“Oh?” Soft steps made the old floor creak from behind, Freya spun around to meet an older woman with shoulder length white hair pushed back behind her pointed ears. The leather armor she bore looked more regal than the armor she had seen before, with an emerald green hue and bits of gold embroidered in the front, Freya speculated that she was the leader of this group. Upon seeing her, the woman's expression softened. She dropped down on knee, and reached out with a slender hand; Freya however, flinched at the stop but the woman stopped before she got too close. “You look like you've been through a lot, my small friend.”

Understatement of the bloody century! She desperately wished she could turn invisible and scurry off to hide in the walls. It was so easy to forget she was powerless when Freya was with her friends, but the lingering eyes stabbing at her back became a friendly reminder. It wasn't fair, she wanted Tav, or Astarion, or anyone of her companions with her right now!

“Hey!” The shrill voice now fueling Freya’s

ire. Oh, so now that gods damn pixie decides to show up? If her shaky hands weren't going to fuck up her aim, she would have shot her out of the air!

Lilia stopped directly in front of the woman's face, a grin plastered on her face. “Hi, I'm Lilia, that's Freya, I was helping her find her friends, when that child grabbed her, said something about making a profit off her.”

“Quiet you pest!” Mol stomped over and tried to swat at Lilia, but she easily weaved in the air.

“Enough!” The woman barked out. “We will not be selling borrowers like they are trinkets. Do you understand me, child?”

“Fine.” The child scoffed, her eyes leaving a burning glare on Freya. “She looks too banged up to be worth much anyways.”

“Good.”

“Come now, children. Let's leave the tiny ones be.” Alfira ushered the children away, but Freya felt far from safe. Whispers of the others made Freya shrink back. Stop staring! She wanted to yell out, but it felt like her lips were glued shut.

“Let me take you somewhere more private.” The half elf spoke as if she was reading her mind. “We can have our cleric see to your wounds.”

Meeting another person? Sure why not, let's tell the entire inn about the borrower! It didn't matter anymore, her heart ached as much as her bones did at this point. Freya didn't protest when the woman's hand inched closer, all she did was stiffen up when calloused fingers wrapped around her to lift her up. Freya sat in the middle of her palm, her other hand coming around to act as a wall to shield her from prying eyes. The way this woman held her was reminiscent of how Halsin had handled her. Where was that gentle giant when she needed him the most?

It was a short walk upstairs where they entered a room that was tidier than the rest of the inn. The doors to the balcony were open and standing outside was a silver haired woman with her back to them. Her hands waved gracefully in the air to produce a small burst of light into the air.

“Isobel.”

The other woman turned around to reveal a youthful face. She was beautiful, like she had bathed in the moonlight. Blue eyes that were accentuated by the dark makeup flickered between the pixie and borrower. “I see we have some unusual guests.”

“This one got into some trouble with the children, patch her up would you?”

Isobel smiled softly at Freya. “But of course.”

After being deposited on the balcony table, the elf gave Freya a half smile. “I'll be back after you rest up, then we can discuss what you wanna do after that, alright?”

She gave the faintest of nods as her words were trapped in her throat. It wasn't the best plan, it was the only one Freya had.

Once she left, Lilia hovered over to Isobel, her eyes darting between the cleric and magic that encircled the inn. “Whoa, so did you make all this?!”

“In a sense,” She chuckled and slipped over to Freya. “The moon maiden has given me the power to aid to keep Shar's curse at bay. I thank her for her service.”

Selûne, a goddess who wasn't unfamiliar to Freya; she had seen old statues and readings before, but she had mostly heard it whenever Shadowheart had been unfortunate enough to lay eyes on it. The snide comments and glares she would give a statue was burned into her memory. Freya closed her eyes as Isobel reached out to heal her, magic seeped into her bones. She tried to pretend it was Shadowheart who was actually healing her, though the moon maiden's magic felt stronger, closing up her wounds faster than Shadowheart ever did.

“There, now how about we get you some water?” Isobel asked with a smile. “I'm sure traversing through the curse has left you two parched.”

“It was just another stroll for me.” The pixie snickered. “For her, not so much.”

“Right, I'll be back then.” As Isobel stepped away, Freya could no longer avoid the tears that pricked her eyes, they came crashing down like a waterfall. Why weren't they here? Were they still looking for her, did they die in that fight? With the hope of a reunion dying off, it became clear that Freya may be stuck here forever. Alone in a place that was a shell of her old home.

“Didn't expect you to be this quiet.”

That grating voice was the fuel to the growing rage within Freya, she glared up at the easygoing smile she gave her, the source of her anxieties just standing there without an ounce of remorse. Freya jumped to her feet to meet the pixie face to face. “I should rip your bloody wings off!”

“Whoa, someone's pissy.” She replied, taking a step back.

“You say that like you didn't just endanger my life!” Her rage grew hotter, as if she could burst into flames like Karlach has before. “You had no right to do that to me!"

Lilia remained unfazed. “I don't get you, Freya. A borrower who travels with big people, yet you cower when children and grannies spot you?”

“That's different!” Freya snapped. “I know them well enough that they wouldn't hurt me! These people…” Her eyes wandered off the balcony to see refugees and soldiers going about their evening, as if a sense of normality would distract them from the curse kept at bay. “I have no clue how they'd react to me.”

Silence fell between the two, there was no point in convincing a pixie that being around larger ones was dangerous for her. Unlike Freya, she had magic and wings at her disposal in the event someone tried to hurt her. Freya had to rely on her stealth; a skill that seemed to be depleting since being with Tav.

“I'm sorry.” The sincere words sounded foreign coming from Lilia, but Freya looked up to see her wings drooping below her shoulders, the downcast gaze not able to hold Freya's eyes. “I shouldn't have pushed you out like that.”

“Thank you.” There were still a lot of questions Freya wanted to ask, she wanted to understand Lilia's reason, but her thoughts were interrupted by soldiers running towards the front. As Freya followed them, she spotted the older woman standing at the entrance, blocking the path of a familiar group.

“Wait… that's-!” Vines that were summoned by the woman wrapped around the halfling's legs. “TAV!”

Her heart would have skipped a beat if the start of a fight was brewing, her companions may have been powerful, but they were outnumbered! Freya ran to the edge and pulled out her grappling hook, there was no way her tools would reach the ground from this height but if she jumped first she could hook it onto something closer to the ground… hopefully.

Adrenaline stopped any second guesses as Freya lunged forward, but instead of falling, the young borrower found herself gliding through the air, her waist was hooked by slender blue arms.

“You're not going to get very far if you're a stain on the ground!” Lilia gave a wry smile over her shoulder. “I think it's about time we return you to your friends over there.”

The descent made the winds fly through her blonde hair, so this is what it felt like to soar through the sky; gliding gracefully as she descended to the lower level. She

No amount of swinging from a rope or riding on a friend's shoulder could ever compare to the way Lilia soared past onlookers.

“Wait!” Freya shouted as they rushed over to the woman; her heart tried to lodge into her throat as she locked eyes with the giantess, but she quickly swallowed all fears. “These are my friends!”

“Freya!” The vines kept Tav from running to her, but they mustered all their strength to break free, only to be cut off by the woman.

“In case you aren't aware, your friends are infected with mind flayer parasites!” Her hand reached for her belt and grabbed a bottle containing the very parasite that yearns to infect her friends.

“Yes, I'm aware, but they're different.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How can this be?”

“With this.” Shadowheart stepped forward with the artifact in hand. The proximity caused the vile creature to writhe and wither away into a sad pile of flesh.

“What a waste.” Mumbled the familiar voice of a vampire.

“But how?!”

“I wish we could say more, but this thing is stopping the parasites.” Tav replied back. “But we know Moonrise Towers will have the answers.”

Suspicion fleeted from the elder woman's face, it became evident an idea sprouted in her head. “Then I suggest we discuss plans in the inn after you get reunited with your little friend.” She glanced over to the tiny being with a softened smile. “It seems you lot have some catching up to do.”

“We certainly do,” Tav nearly choked on their words while their eyes stayed glued on Freya. “Thank you… Jaheira, right?”

“Jaheira?” Was Freya in the presence of the actual High Harper?! No fucking way, this couldn't be. Her eyes danced over to her companions until they met with Karlach's, the giddiness radiated off of her as much as her fire did. Freya turned back to Jaheira with a hoard of questions in hand, but it seemed the forced smile on her lips told her that Jaheira wasn't keen on retelling her tales sung by bards right now. Amazing! She got to meet the Blade of Frontiers and now the High Harper on this journey! What's next, Minsc of Rashemen?

“I'll pour you a glass of wine once you're settled.”

After disbursing, time felt slow. She stared back at Tav, their face was contorted with a range of emotions. Pure joy, bewilderment, and teary eyed were just some of the ones that she picked up.

“I thought you died…”

“I'm lucky I didn't.” She gave a smile to fight back her tears as she looked back at Lilia. It seemed the pixie really did keep her word, perhaps the stories about them being trickers were just that. She would have twisted to give a hug but Lilia's arms began to tremble.

“Well, can you take your pet,” She pouted. “I don't have Hill Giant strength!”

Heat rushed to Freya's cheeks and she was about to scold the blasted fey for that remark when Tav cupped their hands right below the pair. “It would be my pleasure.”

Freya was practically dropped into the palms of the halfling. The familiar warmth from them brought tears to her eyes; it was almost surreal to be back in their hands again. By the gods how she didn't want to leave the comfort of their grasp again, and it seemed Tav shared the thought as fingers curled around her petite body and pulled her close to their chest. Freya gripped onto their robes to hear the pounding heart within them. Perhaps it would have soothed her to sleep if it wasn't for her other friends chattering.

“A pixie, an honest to goodness pixie!” Astarion giggled.

Karlach crouched down with a bewildered gaze locked on the fey. “Whoa, I never thought I'd see one of your kind!”

It seemed Lilia matched her excitement when she took one look at Karlach as he zipped Right up to her face. “Wow, you're hot… like actually on fire!”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” Karlach replied with a chuckle. “Don't get too close though, wouldn't want to singe your wings off.”

Lilia leaned even closer to the tiefling, there was no way she wasn't feeling the searing heat now. “Oh, I'm not sure it would be the end of the world…”

“Perhaps, you don't have to risk your wings yet,” Shadowheart chimed in, she pointed off to a small stable where a tiefling was pounding a hammer against an anvil. “I believe that's Dammon over there.”

“Dammon!” Karlach sprung up to her full height and ran towards him, causing the pixie to tumble backwards to avoid getting smacked by the tiefling.. “Maybe he found a way to fix my engine!”

“Engine?!” Lilia called out. “What does that even mean?!”

With a chuckle, Shadowheart began to follow Karlach. “Why don't you join us and I'll explain everything about our fiery friend.”

Lilia flew towards the cleric like an arrow in the sky. “Don't have to ask me twice!”

“She's an interesting character.” Tav mused while watching them.

“She was rather annoying if I'm honest.”

“Seems like you two have a lot in common then.” Astarion snickered.

“I beg your Pardon?!” That haughty attitude nearly made the borrower leap out of Tav's hand; four inches be damned, she was determined to wipe that smirk off his face.

But Tav had other plans as their fingers latched onto Freya's waist. “Perhaps we can hold off on the rivalry for a moment and talk with Jaheira?”

“Oh I would, darling, but all this traveling has spent my energy.” Astarion feigned a loud yawn that accentuated those fangs. Oddly enough Freya found herself staring intently at them.

“I'm rather exhausted too.” A sigh escaped her lips, she glanced back at Tav with a small pout. “Can't we make camp first.”

Although a debate swirled on their face, they softened at Freya’s words. “You two head back, I'll catch up later.” Tav said as they handed Freya over to Astarion. “But I want you to tell me everything that happened while you were gone.”

Freya shot them a smile. “But of course.”

As Tav shuffled away, their eyes seemed to have trouble being pried off of the borrower; not that Freya had a problem with that, she'd probably let them watch every moment of her life after the day she just had!

However, Astarion broke her away from her thoughts when he brought her up to his face, a mischievous fire igniting in those red eyes. “Let's get you a drink, darling.”

[andtheyreonfire]

take me home (what a wonderful way to go)

ao3

WC: 3,288

AN: something of a sequel to all to make you mine. For G/t July 2024, Day 9: Warmth.

~

Ren is cold.

It’s a familiar feeling, as it would be for a borrower. He’s four inches tall. His body doesn’t particularly like keeping heat. Most of the time he deals with layers and layers of scrap fabric, insulating every corner he might walk in, or, when none of that works, grappling into a heating vent so his face doesn’t turn blue and ugly.

He’s a step ahead of other borrowers, too, in that he was very purposefully and by no means accidentally discovered by a few humans. By—ten-ish humans. Whom, whoever, are rightfully enamored with him and give him everything a four inch tall person could ever desire, like warm food and their credit card numbers.

He is currently away from nine of his humans. He would currently kill for a bowl of Sojiro’s curry. He would even beg for a single noodle of Yusuke’s, before he traps him for stealing and forces him to model for several hours as—not even an act retribution, just forgetfulness.

His teeth are chattering. He cannot stop shivering. He feels—lightheaded? His brain’s all fuzzy around the corners. His legs are starting to feel numb. This is fine. Everything’s fine!

Because he’s near his tenth human. Tenth, for a variety of reasons. Like his probable homicide record and his utter disregard for borrower safety and the butterflies Ren feels whenever he so much as looks at him—

The tenth probably isn’t even home. Even disregarding his schedule, he’s always flighty. Never likes to stick in one place. Ren understands entirely, but his tenth isn’t four inches tall and at risk of freezing. He’s just paranoid.

“It’s not paranoia if there are genuinely people out to get me,” Goro's voice echoes through his mind. This was said, as most things are between them, conversationally, while Goro was stalking him throughout his apartment. How was Ren supposed to know what a “bus pass” was, and that it was unusable after he cut and used it as a coffee table?

Whatever. His tenth human, Goro Akechi, was his last shot. Before he’s forced to make the 5-story trek to Ann's apartment. Which is doable. Totally, doable, even more so that he pisses Goro off just enough that he feels his body heat, rather than Goro killing Ren himself—

Ren stumbles, nearly eating shit on the cold, metal vent he’s traversing. He took the fastest route, expecting warm air to envelop him the second he entered. But apparently, Goro's ideal temperature is only a little colder than his heart, and there is nothing blowing through his vents on a snowy, winter night.

His vision’s starting to fuzz—that’s normal, right? God, he can’t remember the last time he ate. He’ll take Goro's patronizing bread crumbs, even. It’s winter. He’s been busy. Maybe he’s a little unprepared, running on an empty stomach and with hardly enough layers to trek through this vent. Every step seems to drain Ren’s heat even further, every breath sends icy air spreading throughout his body.

Everything’s fine, because look, Ren’s here. He shoots his grappling hook at the lip of the vent—and it only bangs into the flat metal wall. He retracts it, hits the old bundle of gears and twine for good measure, and refires. Within seconds, he’s dragging himself out of Goro's vent.

God—was his floor always this cold? It’s exponentially worse out here, the chill of the open air going straight to Ren’s heart. His legs feel stiff. The expanse of Goro's kitchen is so, so massive.

He blinks once, twice. Hey, it’s okay, he’s almost there. He can hear Goro's fake, cheery voice echoing from across the room, a high-pitched hum as he says, “Yes, of course, Saito-san. I already have a portable heater set up. I'm sure you’ll get the heating system up in just a few minutes, you always work magic, haha.”

Ren trudges forward. He can only crane his neck up for a few seconds, before the glare of Goro's lights forces his head down. He’d be surprised if he noticed him. He’s wearing his sneaky thieving clothes, a thin, pitch-black coat that clashes perfectly against the cream white of Goro's tiles. Total stealth.

Goro offers a few more pleasantries and a goodbye, before his footsteps shake the earth. Distantly, Ren can hear him preparing hot water. Distantly, Ren wonders if he should dunk himself into it. It sounds nice, cozy. He continues forward. He probably remembers how to scale Goro's counter, right? He wonders if he can get a ride, or if Goro would just kick him aside like a football.

There’s really nothing stopping him from climbing right up. The counter’s right here, Goro just a few feet away. So what, if he’s so cold that he’s stopped shivering? He shouldn’t be fumbling with his grappling hook, forgetting how to brace himself before he starts soaring. He’s so close.

His grappling hook catches the very edge of the counter.

He’s got this. In three, two, one—

Ren compresses the trigger.

The ground falls beneath him, winking out into a distant view. Normally he’d chose a stronger anchor, but—He’s fine. He nearly hits his head on the underside of Goro’s counter, but he’s fine.

He blinks, hanging off the edge of his hook with one arm. How does he normally get up, again? Why is his head so fuzzy? Why is his grip swaying more than usual?

His legs dangle. He needs to do something. Why is he just—

The grappling hook lurches, slips, almost falls completely off the counter. Ren lurches with it, legs kicking and arms flailing as he tries to find any purchase, any at all—

His hand meets the hard surface of the counter. Muscle memory kicks in, and he swings his legs up, using the last of his strength to climb up. He even manages to throw his grappling hook up instead of letting it shatter to a billion pieces on the floor. Nice.

He’s on solid ground, so why are his limbs still shaking? They’re stiff, sure, but weak. He can’t be weak. He has a strong, mighty bloodline. Impeccable survival instincts. Charm and grace and unmatched humility. But—just sitting here feels like a good idea. Something in him is slipping. Really, he doesn’t even know why he came all the way up here—

A massive shadow falls over him, enveloping him like a wave swallows a seashell. He can’t help a shiver, both from the dip in temperature, and for the familiar, hair-raising electricity that shoots down his spine.

In his peripheral, a hand larger than his bed clutches the counter. Before him, a titanic torso stretches like the sunrise. He cranes his neck up, up, up, ignoring the jabbing pain behind his eyes, to stare into the looming face of Goro Akechi.

Goro doesn’t smile, but something of his expression still reminds Ren of a shark, a snake, the cat who got the cream. His voice booms, “Is there a specific reason you’re tracking footprints on my counter? Or do you just favor trouncing into places a bug like you shouldn’t be in?”

Well, at least Goro's actually at his apartment, instead of working the graveyard shift at his mysterious second job he answers no questions about. He probably just works at Big Bang Burger and is embarrassed. Anyways, Ren stands up, almost loses his balance, and pointedly crosses his arms instead of expending the energy to flail them. At least he’s not shivering. “I came here for ba—a v—very specific reason.”

“Oh?” Goro leans closer, his hands coming up to block Ren’s escape point. His breath washes over Ren, and its warmth only makes the cold air even more jarring. He can almost feel Goro’s body heat, if slightly blocked by a sweater and those dorky gloves he always wears. He just needs him a little closer. “And what is that?”

Ren’s body feels so, so light—his vision isn’t supposed to be this fuzzy, right? His tongue can hardly move. He either needs to piss Goro off until his warm hand pins down Ren’s body, or he decides to drop him in his toasty pocket to contain him. Either sounds heavenly. Ren says, confident as stone, “The reason is—“

Ren passes out.

***

He awakes to perfect, blissful warmth.

Hot air envelops him, filling his lungs and curling his toes. A warm, solid weight rests across his entire body. Not as warm as the blissful heat buffeting him, but enough to keep it trapped, the weird, leathery fabric of his blanket be damned.

And, oh, this is what it’s all about. This is the heaven mice go to after they perish in a glue trap, the afterlife hamsters enter after being eaten by a human child. The Valhalla borrowers ascend to after dying by honorable means, like dropping dead on his favorite human’s counter. He should’ve frozen to death ages ago. Ren snuggles back into this new, weighted blanket, letting this heat seep into his still-cold bones. Absolutely perfect—

A thundering bang echoes somewhere behind him, followed by a familiar, murderous growl, “Dropping dead on my fucking counter, who does he think he is—“

Ren’s eyes snap open.

He lies on a massive, plush surface. Before him, looming too high for Ren to take in all of it, is what Ren assumes is a human heater. It’s directed at his tiny form, Ren resting on a couch cushion like a pearl in an oyster.

Ren’s not dead.

He knows this when a pair of dark pants fill half of vision, and Ren can’t resist craning his head up, up, up, to see Goro Akechi looming over him like God’s shittiest angel.

He’s carrying something. A small something. A small something that he sets down next to Ren, slower than he thought humans were capable of. It’s a tall bottle cap. A warm, savory-smelling liquid sloshing as Goro sets it down, fingernails glinting in the light—

”You leave traces of yourself, everywhere.” Goro'd said to Ren, once the borrower was in his clutches, dangled over Goro's head by a single leg. “Someone will always find you, whether or not you think they’re searching. Whether or not you think they’re capable of exploiting what they uncover.”

Goro's not wearing gloves.

Surely Ren’s seeing things. He always wears gloves. Whether he’s dangerously engrossed in his detective hero fantasy, is genuinely that paranoid, or a secret third thing, Ren doesn’t know. What he does know is that Goro's left hand is bared. And that the missing glove is—

Ren shifts, pushes his hands against the heavy fabric blanketing him. He sits up the best he can, seeing enough to know his legs disappear into a familiar, wide shape. To know that Goro's missing glove is wrapped around Ren like a giant quilt.

It kind of smells like him, faint, cheap coffee and the hand lotion Ren’s smelled on his arms. It’s nice. It’s warm. It’s safe—

Goro's hand is retreating, him too engrossed in his task to even notice Ren sitting up. So, Ren does what he does best: channel Morgana’s instincts long enough to lunge over, and knock the cap of soup right onto Goro's couch.

Goro's hand freezes. Ren can see it shake. He can’t stop his heart from pounding as he watches tendons wider than his fingers flex, the curl of knuckles larger than his knees. It’s boring, under his glove: well-trimmed, zero dirt, paler than most of his body. Ren wonders if it’s just as warm. He’ll probably find out; it looks five seconds away from wrapping around his body and squeezing.

Before Goro can actually kill him, Ren says, “Now, this is a sight I wouldn’t mind waking up to every m—“ He clears his throat. Tries again, “Hey, uh. What happened?”

Goro's eyebrow twitches. Calmly, carefully, he rights the fallen cap, collecting the broth with his fingers and shaking it off somewhere behind his legs. Calmly, carefully, he lowers himself to a kneel, bracketing his arms around Ren. His heart pounds. “You tell me—or are you doing to kneel over again before you can finish the sentence?”

Ren snorts. He moves to speak, but Goro beats him to it, glaring at the stain Ren left on his couch. “I got that for you, you know. Fluids and preserving body heat are important when dealing with hypothermia. I expected you’d be stupid enough to put yourself into that state, but I didn’t expect you’d be so stupid as to fight me on recovery, especially considering how severe your case is—“

The hair on the back of Ren’s neck prickles. “I'm fine, not severe at all. I just needed a quick nap—“

“Oh, really?” Goro shifts back, slamming his bare hand right next to Ren. He can’t quite suppress a flinch. “Your body weight is unusually low, which is impressive, considering you already weigh less than a fucking leaf. Your eyes are sunken in. I can feel your ribcage—and you’re freezing to the touch.” Ren flinches, again, and tries to speak, as if Goro's current volume isn’t hurting his ears. “When was the last time you ate? Drank? Slept? I haven’t been able to check if you have frostbite or a genuine cold—“

Ren’s instincts flare. He scrambles for a defense. He’s too small, too exposed, too warm. He manages, voice high and sharp, “And you give a shit?”

Surprisingly, it works. Goro backs off, bare hand still lingering near Ren’s form. He seems to reassess itself, before his expression closes off into something utterly blank. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of fending for yourself.”

And, see, the thing is, Ren’s perfectly capable of doing so. Ren cannot, right now, considering his head is pounding and his legs are cramping and his hook’s on Goro's counter. He hates this. He hates this. He hates this feeling of helplessness, of having to rely on another person to maintain his wellbeing. He hates being vulnerable.

But more importantly, he hates this distance with Goro. This touch-and-go game, how he thought he was handing Goro a blatant victory with this but instead he’s—What? Making soup for him and giving him blankets?

And he hates the slight hurt in Goro's eyes, a sight clear as day from Ren’s tiny angle. He hates how he can’t have Goro concretely, and he hates how Goro is leaning, moving, inching away—

“Wait!” Ren blurts. Without thinking, he latches onto Goro's thumb, digging his nails into his skin before he can slip away.

It works.

Goro's here, his warm, warm breath puffing down onto Ren. He’s watching him like a hawk, face carefully neutral.

“I'm—“ Ren licks his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says, because he should. Because he means it. Because it’s easier to say over I love you.

Goro won’t accept that. It’s still Ren’s turn. A few moments ago, he could’ve backtracked, laughed it off. Of course all he needed was a nap and a snack. Always a generous host, Akechi-san, if you don’t mind him, he’ll be leaving—

But it’s too late for that. Goro's watching his next move, and he doesn’t know what else to say. Does Goro genuinely care? Will he kill him if he answers wrong? This is so difficult, fuck. This is why the only emotion Ren prefers to feel around Goro is fear. He needs to say something.

He’s never had to do this before, and he’s going to lose a lot more than his life if he doesn’t. He wouldn’t care if it was just his own survival, but—Goro's different.

Ren makes a decision.

“I need your help,” Ren says, voice barely audible within the expanse of Goro's room. He continues, even smaller, “Don’t leave me?”

And that, final nail softens Goro's expression into something Ren would almost call warm.

“God, you’re an idiot,” Goro says, his usual snark returning to his voice. “If you’re so desperate, you can stay with me for the night. You don’t take up that much room, I suppose.”

Ren melts in relief. Before he can ask if this means a truce, Goro starts, “I do really...”

Ren blinks. Goro doesn’t finish. Like the fool he is, Ren asks, “Really what?”

Goro's mask slides back on. To Ren, it’s just a narrow of the eyes in thought. “I do wonder when the heat will come back on. At least you’re not freezing anymore. What’re your symptoms?”

And just like that, the night passes in a blur. To Goro's credit, he is far less overbearing than Ren feared. He notes his symptoms (just a headache, it really was mild) with a hum. Fills the silence with talk of work and gossip while Ren takes his water and soup. It’s a nice alternative to accepting that he’s here, sitting on a human’s coffee table, too weak to escape—all the while accepting freebies like they’re nothing.

At least Goro's here, radiating heat, snatching Ren up without a second thought. His stupid attractive face constantly filling Ren’s vision.

At least he hasn’t pushed away someone he can’t bear to lose.

Some time later, Ren’s settled on Goro's bedside table, glove a leathery sleeping bag. Goro's voice hums in the background, droning on about some co-worker and their petty drama, or whatever. Ren can’t stop listening to him. He also needs him to shut up. “Hey, detective.”

Goro hums. “What? Is the arrangement not to your liking?”

No. He loves being level with Goro's face. His hair frames his head like a halo. His big, stupid eyelashes flutter with every sleepy blink. He’s never been this close when his life wasn’t in mortal danger. His heart is pounding like he is.

The faint adrenaline gives Ren the courage to say, “I needed this—I needed you.” Ren smiles. “Thank you, Goro.”

And something beautiful happens.

From the tips of his ears to the corners of his jawline, Goro turns red. His mouth parts, ever-so-slightly. And his eyes...

He expects Goro to snap, to glare at him and hiss something like I told you not to call me that. He expects him to kill him on the spot. Ren understands this part of Goro: the mortifying ordeal of being named.

Instead, Goro reaches over, bare hand filling Ren’s vision. Massive fingers scoop up Goro’s glove and its passenger, lifting them up effortlessly. Ren can’t see anything aside from dark leather, can’t feel anything except the warmth of Goro’s hand. For a second, he doesn’t even care how vulnerable he is. He could stay like this, weightless in Goro’s gravity, until the end of time.

Eventually, Goro sets him down. Ren knows where he is even before he hears the steady beating of Goro’s heart. He unfurls, finding himself tucked into Goro’s chest pocket. His chest rises and falls, carrying him with it, burying him into warmth, fabric and utter bliss.

Goro mutters, voice reverberating through Ren’s core, “It’s easier to keep an eye on you, like this.” When Ren can’t help but smile up at him, Goro snorts. “Good night, Joker.”

And with that, Goro's bedroom plunges into darkness. Ren huddles into Goro's glove, hands reaching out to clutch the fabric of his pocket. He can’t help but smile brighter when he feels Goro’s hand curl around him, not overbearing, but close enough to feel his vulnerable skin.

“Call me Amamiya, at least,” He whispers into the night air. Even if the heat came on right now, Ren wouldn’t feel it, not for the warmth thrumming through his veins. “Or take me on a date first, Goro.”

He’ll tell Goro everything, soon, Ren decides, and drifts off to sleep.

[lulubelle0318]

I have motivation to work on The Borrower of the Keep. I wrote two chapters in three days, LET'S HECKIN GO!

@theloveforart @scrunckled-idiot

[sizediscount]

hello!

i made a (safe for work) 18+ genshin impact g/t server! just wanted a space to discuss aus as well as sharw my art and writing. if you’d like to join, the link is here (^∇^)

[kittydoremi]

Commissioned some more art from the talented @smallpwbbles, this time from my Sonic and The Sol Flower fanfic/au! I love SonElise, and I wanted to make a fanfic with the giant/tiny trope with them ^^

(I need to update it, I haven't updated it in a while .-.)

I love how these sketches turned out so much! :D

[battybat604]

"Exponential" by Unbreakabledawn 🤲

[scrunckled-idiot]

*SLAMMING FISTS ON TABLE*

EHEHEHEEHEEHH

YAYYAHAHGHEWGFGYEFEHGFGRYT

LOOK AT WHAT @canisxx DID FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEE

THEY DREW MY GOOBERS FROM MY GOOBER FANFIC

TEE HEE HEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

ITS SO FUCKING GORGEOUS AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

*GOING FUCKING MENTAL*

BETTER THAN I EVER COULD AHAHAHAHAH

FOLLOW CANISXX PLEASE BECAAUSE HE'S MY BESTIE UHRHFGYRBFYRGHBTVRYJEGH

it is, in her words, *ahem*

"the yapper and the listener"

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 38

Jaskier has kept a secret for years. The ring with dandelions carved into it that he wears every second of every day is the only thing keeping him from turning into ash. He sleeps with a lovely woman one night, desperately trying to move on from Geralt (it doesn't work, he is still very much in love with his best friend) only to awake in the morning and find- FUCK She stole his ring! That conniving little-! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What does he do!? He races to the mirror and it confirms his worst fear. The glamour the ring gives him is gone. He can't see his reflection. He reaches a hand up to his mouth and feels his fangs. No- Nonono! Then his worst fucking nightmare ON TOP of his worst nightmare happens. He hears the stomping footsteps of a witcher approaching their room. Godsdamn it all. He hears the doorknob jiggle and.. Alright, he'll be the first to admit it, he panics. "DON'T COME IN, GERALT" The doorknob jiggling pauses. "Jaskier? Are you alright?" "Y- YES! Perfectly peachy! Don't come in!" Jaskier rushes around the room, pacing in panicked circles like a caged beast. He was a caged beast. He reaches to close the curtains of the only window in the room and like an idiot, he fumbles in place and ends up with his hand in the direct sunlight. He shrieks in pain and holds his hand to his chest. Geralt, scenting agony and hearing Jaskier yell, barges in without another moment of thought. Only to see Jaskier scrambling away from him in fear. In all his years of knowing Jaskier, he has NEVER been afraid of him. It physically pains Geralt to see it now. He doesn't understand why he wasn't allowed in. There's no lover of Jaskier's hiding in a corner embarrassed at being caught, Jaskier isn't indecent or anything, so why-? Then he looks at Jaskier, truly looks at him, and sees his blue eyes are glowing, and his mouth - Parted open as he pants - reveals fangs. Geralt's eyes dart to Jaskier's neck and it's confirmed. The worst part of it all, is the way Jaskier's eyes keep glancing between the door out of the room, and Geralt's silver sword. Geralt is infuriated. Not only did the woman Jaskier take to bed last night turn Jaskier into a vampire, but she also made Jaskier fear Geralt because of it. When Geralt says he isn't going to harm (let alone KILL like Jaskier had feared) Jaskier for the twentieth time, Jaskier finally believes him, and begs him to help him track the woman down. Geralt is intent on killing the vampire that ruined poor young human Jaskier's life. Jaskier is intent on getting his human-glamour, sunlight-immunity-enchantment ring back from this human he slept with, so he can go back to pretending he's human, like he has been doing for the past hundred or so years.

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 1/?

Wordcount: 2,057

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★

★ - Also on AO3! - ★

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58879087/chapters/150070549

The cottage you moved into was poorly constructed and had many openings to various rooms because of the peeling wallpaper. It was partially why you chose to reside there after many weeks of venturing the forest once your parents kicked you out. 

You lived with your parents in a tree until they decided it was time for you to make your way in this world. Oh, how you could imagine the looks on their faces if you told them the mess you got yourself into this time. 

Your family chose the safety of trees and burrows rather than living in the walls of creatures that could kill you without so much as a flick of a wrist. 

You wouldn't call yourself one for adventure, quite the opposite. Humans terrified you to your very core. You’ve been a first-hand witness to what they are capable of. When the cottage was in the process of being built you watched many trees torn and splintered by their impossibly large machines. 

You rather despised humans. What you didn't despise however was routine and having access to food much easier than foraging. 

Life in the cottage was relatively peaceful, it was about as peaceful as you could get for being only a few inches tall. You swore your species was doomed to fail if it wasnt for humans influence. 

The scientist who lived in the cottage was paranoid, that much was obvious. Even when you first moved in after being kicked out he stayed up much too late and consumed too much coffee to be considered sane. You brushed it off because, after a few days of scoping out the walls of the cottage, you realized he had a very precise schedule that made borrowing easy. 

He would wake up early, and go to bed late. Usually uttering to himself before going down into his basement to do who knew what. It gave you a lot of time to yourself, and a human with a predictable schedule was hard to come by. Most had kids or animals, both very dangerous to someone like yourself. Fortunately, this human only seemed to have one friend who came around periodically, but they stayed downstairs. 

You had noticed that night you were running low on thread and crackers, and the human was in his basement. Of course, night turned into day much quicker than you predicted. 

The shock and horror of hearing the vending machine door open while you were in the middle of climbing up into his shelf literally by a thread still shuddered through your body even now. 

…So what if you screamed and ran off despite him shouting for you? So what if you have to move homes? It didn't even matter much to you that when you let go of the thread you landed on your foot and wrist wrong. 

The faint memory of his hand reaching for you did rattle you to your core, despite how much you insisted you could escape him even if he did grab you. 

The way his eyes bared into your very soul, the way even his shadow in the early dawn lighting engulfed your entire body. Your shaking hands as you pried the loose wood plank off the wall just as you could feel his body heat emitting from his hand radiating on your back. 

… 

 …You push the memories away lest you give yourself another panic attack. You tried to not let it bother you much, though you would miss the plentiful amounts of jellybeans and other snacks he kept on the shelves. 

No. What bothered you the MOST was the fact every little detail, every little move you made before you ran off into the wall, was now being documented. 

You looked down from the crack in the wall with a grimace. There was a foul taste in your mouth as you saw the human below taking vivid and rigorous notes while sitting at the kitchen table. His pen scratched the page so hard you believed it would rip. 

The red journal he carried with him was the bane of your existence. If any information about you or your species was going to become mainstream, it would doom your life as you knew it. Not to mention shatter any dreams you had of a normal life. 

You weren't in any position to do anything about it yet. The effects of the adrenaline pumping through your veins were slowly ebbing away. Leaving a dull ache in your head and a nasty sprain on your wrist and ankle. 

With a sigh, you pushed off the wall and made the long trek back to your room. Deciding that before leaving, you had to get rid of the page in his journal. He had to leave it unguarded at some point. 

Your room in the walls wasnt much, but you spent a lot of time working on it. You hollowed out a space inbetween a few support beams and insulation and put a few pieces of cloth on the walls. 

The pin cushion you called a bed practically screamed your name as you pushed your makeshift cloth ‘door’ open. You broke off a piece of a cracker you swiped a few days prior and shoveled it into your mouth before collapsing on the bed. 

Getting that journal was your only hope. Ignoring the chalky residue left in your mouth by the dry cracker sleep soon found you. 

… 

That man did not leave his journal for one moment. 

It's been two days since your last encounter with the human. You tried so hard to stay patient in the walls and bide your time until you could get ahold of the cursed page, but your rations were running short. 

So you threw on your satchel and stabbed a needle in your pants just in case he was out. You used to not carry it, but you weren't taking any chances. 

Pressing your hands to your eyes you tried to gather courage as you walked in the dark pathways of the walls. You tried not to think about what would happen if you were caught by the scientist. 

You’ve seen him take creatures like yourself down in his basement, and they never come back up. 

Despite this, you still for whatever reason chose to stay. You wished you never stayed. More than anything you wished you had just found a nice, abandoned burrow like your cousin had, and stayed in the woods. 

In your frustration you kicked a piece of rock, it hit a nearby pipe with a satisfying twang. 

There were more predators in the woods but atleast they would just kill you. There was no telling what the human would do if he caught you. 

Taking a deep breath you consoled yourself, if you played your cards right and stayed out of sight this would turn out like it usually did. 

You would take a few crackers and leave, that's all you had to do. 

As you pressed your hands against the wall and shakily pushed, you felt the loose wood disconnect with a satisfying crack while you poked your head out.

You squinted as the bright light from the kitchen flooded into the wall and onto your face.  

Everything seemed completely normal, which should have relaxed you, but it merely put you more on edge. 

This human wasnt normal. There was no reason everything on the countertop was tidied away. He usually left dishes in the sink, and from where you stood you saw none. 

You where about to slink back into the wall and go out a different time before you heard his voice. 

“...It was bipedal!- have you ever-” 

You were quick to pull yourself back into the wall, your hand slipping on the wood and giving yourself a splinter. You sucked in a breath and held your yelp as you heard footsteps coming closer. 

“I know, you haven't stopped talking about it for three hours..” 

The other human's voice sounded southern, you recognized it as the main resident's friend, or ‘associate’ he sometimes said. 

You could hear them picking up various glasses and cups, if you had to guess the humans were probably making more coffee. Your hypothesis was only confirmed as you heard the cursed machine whirr to a start. 

You finally let out the breath you were holding as you felt the splinter that now lodged itself in your palm. Wincing as you continued to listen. 

“I know, I just wish I was able to capture it! I could put a more accurate sketch, what if its the only one of its kind?” 

Predictable as always. 

“Ford, I'm sure you already went scarin’ the thing half to death. I wouldn't be shocked if it left,” 

Ford. The scientist was named Ford. As you picked at the splinter you internally berated the name, yours wasnt much better but atleast your parents loved you enough to not name you Ford. 

…Maybe you where being a bit mean. 

“I doubt it, more than likely I can catch it again early morning. It seemed shocked I was there, it more than likely has a schedule it keeps to.” 

Or maybe you weren't mean enough. Seriously who did this guy think he was? You had half a mind to march out of the wall and stab his stupid hand.

You didn't bother listening to the rest of their conversation, too preoccupied with picking at the splinter. Trying to pull it out with little to no light proved itself to be difficult. 

You could head back to your room, but the string lights in there had limited battery, and you tried to save it for only special occasions. 

To your relief, the pair left a few minutes later. Only when you heard the vending machine door clunk shut did you press against the wood plank. 

Using the small sliver of light provided you pulled the splinter out with your nails, flicking it away before turning and looking at the counter. 

…He left a dish. 

A dish in front of where he last saw you. A dish full of various snacks, ranging from two jellybeans to crackers and cheese. 

You weren't some domesticated house pet. You scowled at the dish as if it had personally scalded you before walking past it. 

You walked quietly despite there being no reason to. Wishing you had your fish hook and thread to get up on the higher shelf. 

You could manage without it though. You only made it a few months prior so you were skilled enough to find some scraps on the counter usually. 

To your dismay, though he seemed to have done a thorough cleaning, and without your hook you had no way to reach the shelves above to gather your food. 

You pressed on and walked over to the sink, careful to balance on the edge. You looked at the faucet and walked over to the handle. Gently and carefully push it just a smidge before taking out a small thimble you used for water. 

After drinking your fill and putting the thimble away, you turned the water off. 

…Not fully though, he could deal with a leaky faucet for a few hours. 

You where going to go back empty-handed until your stomach growled looking at the crackers he left out. 

Surely taking one wouldn't hurt, if you left a message. 

You picked up one and stuffed it into your bag, contemplating taking a jellybean but deciding against it. Right before you went into the wall you kicked the dish off of the counter. Shattering on the floor with a satisfying clatter. 

Snickering to yourself you slinked off into the walls. You’d check back on the human that night to see if he left his journal on his desk this time. 

… 

A few hours later Ford had finally gotten to a stopping point with his research. Thoughts of the little creature in his walls beckoned at his mind as he rode the elevator up. 

He sent Fiddleford home with a goodnight before practically sprinting into the kitchen, seeing the mess left by the mischievous thing. 

One thing on the counter caught his eye in particular. 

As he picked it up he examined it thoroughly. 

A small splinter of wood, ever so slightly tinged at the edge with red. 

“...Fascinating..” 

---

Thank you for reading!! Ill more than likely be updating this when i can, but be assured Chapter 2 is already being written with plans for three others!

Hope you Enjoyed!! My Askbox is always open if you want to hear me ramble more about borrowers! V●ᴥ●V

[lightnis-moonlight]

I got a funny idea after watching the staff members laying on Vashs new mattress. Vash comes in to try it out he doesn't realise reader was there (she fell asleep waiting for him and he was sleepy) and unknowingly lays on top of her! She's fine though the mattress is very soft and spongey so she doesn't get squished but she wakes up a bit surprised as to why everything is dark only to realise she is beneath Vashs underbelly! She tries to wiggle out but she is stuck so she tries tickling his belly! This would be good as a comic strip!

He'd usually be more careful to not accidentally lay on or squish anyone. But this time was an exception. He just wanted to try the mattress and didn't notice. I wonder when he'll wake up...? At least he is warm... You might want to take another nap. Because you'll be stuck for a while. xd

Thank you for your ask! ^^ This was indeed quite fun! :3 I wish you all a wonderful day! <3 C ya! >v<

[smolgloves]

Bg3 gt master list!

Disclaimer: Anything marked in red text will be noted as nsfw and will take you over to my spicy blog. Viewer discretion is advised

Now on A03

The Scars of Skaars Hollow: An act 1 saga (completed)

The Blood and the Heart

Midnight Snack

Tales of the Tavern

Tavern Brawl

The Trial

The Road to Redemption

Whispered Truths

Not So Useless (Part 1)

Not So Useless (Part 2)

To Bitter Endings and New Beginnings

Act one shorts

Lae'zel

Trinket

Shadowheart

Shrouded

Astarion

The Perfect Crime (Part 1)

The Perfect Crime (Part 2)

The Perfect Crime (Part 3)

Just A Taste

Halsin

A lesson in Nature

Tav

Sobering Thoughts

A Moment's Meditation

Gale

The Wizard and the Herbalist

Wyll

Devil Games

Karlach

Devil Games (Part 2)

Lighting The Way: An act 2 saga

The Dying Light

Grieving Hearts

Fairytales

The Crow and the Mouse

Non-Skaars Hollow fics

Lending a Hand (A Post-Game Gale fic)

Part 1

Part 2

The Little Thief (A Lae'zel x Tav fic)

[andtheyreonfire]

at the end of every tether

Ao3

WC: 3070

AN: hbd @sizediscount !!!! i got you a serial killer <3 for G/t July, Day 19: Out of reach.

~

Ren’s never actually seen what cognitive rulers do when he’s not fighting them.

He’d assume they’d despawn, like a boss they haven’t hit the cutscene trigger for yet. But Futaba points out their constant presence during every infiltration. They seem more like puppets, than anything. A mouthpiece regurgitating their owner’s fucked-up ideals. A chipped piece of grey matter that wandered around, aimlessly, until it decided to kick the Thieves’ ass.

It was a consideration, that they would just sit on their fancy little throne like the ruler they were, seemingly alone in their corrupted little corner of heart. Ren didn’t think he’d be right.

Ren also didn’t think he’d confirm this by being locked in a massive, golden birdcage, eye-level with the absolutely oversized ruler of Akechi Goro’s palace.

Akechi’s palace seemed a maze of sharp corners and dead ends. Ren’s third eye was only good for uncovering the non-lethal, annoying traps, and Futaba’s Persona was only good for leading them around in a circle. It was a long, tense few hours until they found their way into something that seemed like a next room—

Before it was revealed that their hours of struggle took place in a literal rat maze, located near in the middle of an absolutely titanic castle. And, while the majority of Shadows were normal-sized and scurrying around like rats, there was one, massive problem they could hear stomping in the background.

Ren didn’t realize Akechi’s cognition was stalking them until it was too late. Until his current party was downed, him included. Until genuine fear was singing through his veins, watching the cognition shrug off his remaining teammates like mosquitoes. Until his mouth was already forming the words, wait, please, don’t hurt them, take me instead—

“I’m not one for consolation prizes,” Akechi’s cognition had boomed, Ren craning his neck up, up, up, just to see past his crouched knees. Before he could even flinch, a massive, gloved hand filled his vision, Akechi’s warped face regarding him with a possession he’s never seen on him in his life. “Though, who am I to deny ownership of a new toy?”

Really, Ren should’ve known something was up the second they confirmed Akechi’s third keyword as beanstalk.

And now, Ren sits, cross-legged and cross-armed in a birdcage larger than his room. He is, by all accounts, the human thief from Jack’s fairy tale, and Akechi’s brain is going to grind his bones to make his bread. Perfect. Just perfect.

At least his teammates are safe, with plans and plans to rescue Ren and reunite. And, considering the way Ren screamed after the cognition had tossed him up into the air like a pebble, probably planning a cognitive shutdown upon their return.

It’s not like they hadn’t discussed it, between questions of why, why, why. Why here? Why now? Why Akechi? Why was Ren so quiet as they discussed the very valid option of letting his mind decay—

A massive, cold shadow blocks out the light. Without seeing its owner, Ren scrambles back, his spine hitting the gold bars of the cage. A part of him doesn’t want to look, doesn’t want to see the face of the boy he played billiards with looming above him like a skyscraper. So, Ren doesn’t. It’s a perfect, fool-proof strategy—

Up until the cognition’s voice crackles through the air like distant thunder, “Hm. Bored, now.”

Ren’s eyes snap up, just in time to see a massive, stupidly fast hand reach in the cage. Ren doesn’t even have time to get his feet under him before it wraps around his body, and yanks him out like a child’s doll.

Ren isn’t thinking about the fact that there’s nothing between him in the floor except the cognition’s hand, it squeezing his arms to his side and curling a pinkie under his legs. Ren isn’t thinking about his face looming above him, nor that the eyes locked onto his body are larger than his head. He certainly isn’t thinking about all the things the giant could do to him, nor the realization that, after everything, this might be the first time Ren would need a revival bead—

The cognition flops back against his throne, kicking his feet up against a building-sized ottoman. As if remembering the thief in his grip, he brings Ren to his face. Ren stalwartly refuses to look at him, squeezing his eyes shut, even as this Akechi chuckles and brushes a thumb against his head. There have been many palaces Ren disliked but this one he thinks he truly hates—

“I know I’m a lot to take in,” The cognition purrs—that’s not right, some part of Ren’s brain manages, only stopping himself from panicking by a thread. “But you don’t have to hide. It’s not like you haven’t seen more than my face.”

The soft pad of a glove prods against Ren’s face. He sputters, squirms, but eventually the cognition pins his head between his thumb and the side of his finger. Ren can only shudder as it pushes his mask right off his face.

Ren’s pulse spikes. He creaks his eyes open, only to squeeze them shut as the cognition’s finger fills his vision. It hovers too close for his eyes to focus, a padded glove brushing against his forehead and—brushing the hair out of his eyes?

Because he’s always been an idiot when it came to Akechi, Ren opens his eyes.

The cognition stares back. “There we are.” He smiles, and the stretch of his face is one too many things to focus on, because— “There’s that pretty face of yours.”

Ren’s cheeks burn, heart hammering in his chest. Instead of addressing anything, he takes in the—expanse of the cognition’s body. He appears to be nothing more than an oversized facsimile of Loki. He wears a striped, band-like jacket. The patterns fade and curve in a way Ren can’t follow, not against the length of his massive arm. Minus the searing bright gold of his eyes, the cognition looks human—aside, of course, from the red horns jutting from his forehead like streetlamps, his absurd height, and—are those fangs—?

Akechi’s cognition is grinning down at Ren with fangs longer than his hand. Ren is utterly trapped, probably barely bigger than the thumb of the giant holding him. Ren is trying not to process the last sentence the cognition breathed into this world. After everything, he barely catches his low murmur, “I thought you’d be more entertaining than the shadows scurrying around here. I wonder, would you scream as well as them?”

Every ounce of blood drains out of Ren’s body. The cognition’s eyes crinkle in delight. Latching onto the conversation topic—and knowing that he probably would, and every bit of Akechi’s psyche would love it—Ren says, “Do the shadows here not worship you?”

The cognition hums, the sound reverberating through Ren’s chest like a bass. “Oh, they should—but, no. I’m the only thing that deserves power, around here. They’re nothing more than distractions.”

Ren fights the urge to shudder, remembering peeking into a room with the cognition in it, watching him idly dispose of a group that would overwhelm the thieves with just a few, white-hot blasts of energy.

He’s distracted enough he almost doesn’t register the words vibrating through his core. “Goro-kun’s cognition only allows for one person in power, I’m afraid.”

Ren blinks. His mouth feels, suddenly, dry. He tries to read the cognition’s face, even just the few feet in front of him, but all he can read is the same, vague satisfaction. “You know?”

“Everything, yes,” The cognition says, and he says it so assuredly Ren feels the urge to believe him.

“That you’re not real?”

The cognition seems to start, at that. He pulls Ren closer, higher, holding him above his towering face. And, without even a twitch as warning, he lets go.

Ren falls, wind whipping through his coat and his hair and, suddenly, the surface of not-Akechi’s lap seems more like it’ll break his legs than anything. And, suddenly, Ren’s voice is escaping him in an involuntarily scream, Akechi’s body shooting past him and the ground rushing closer and—

Idly, lazily, the cognition’s other hand catches him. Ren lands with an oof in the massive palm, less than a couple meters away from a bone-breaking fall. Instinctively, to assess the threat before him, Ren looks up.

He has to crane his neck back to see the cognition’s face, the way his fangs gleam in the light of his throne room as he asks, “Does this seem fake to you?”

Ren can barely form words, more focused on taking shallow, even breaths. Thankfully, the cognition beats him to the chase. “Goro-kun’s known the rules of the Metaverse since he was fifteen. If he hadn’t already awakened, I’m what would be his Persona. Since he’s awakened several, was a Cognitive Pscience guinea pig, this that and the third, I’ve known I’m a cognition since the moment these palace walls formed.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ren croaks.

The cognition shrugs, bringing Ren up a closer to the billboard of his face. “We have a compulsion to tell the truth. Besides, you’ve always been a great listener.” He smiles, a little less sharp. “I’m sure you have more questions. Ask away.”

Ren figures he doesn’t have much to lose, so he tries, “Can you let me go?”

The shadow laughs, a sharp, painful bark that leaves Ren clutching his ears. He says, in the same tone Akechi would use when Ren would risk everything to do a ridiculous trick shot, “Be serious. You’re trying to steal my heart, are you not?”

Wary of the shadow’s fingers hovering around him, Ren tries, “Does Akechi not want us to change his heart?”

“Every ruler wants someone to change their heart.” The cognition rests his head on his hand, eyes flicking up to the ceiling. “It’s why there’s always a route to the treasure—or a route to a bullet in their head. Subconsciously, humans will always desire help. Goro-kun will scream and cry and bite once you send him that calling card, but, in the end, he’ll be a changed man and everything will work out fine.”

He draws out the final syllable. His fingers twitch towards Ren, and Ren hasn’t missed a warning since Kamoshida’s castle. “Do you have anything more interesting to ask?”

Ren swallows. Well, he has time, and if the cognition’s being honest... “Are you going to hurt me?”

The cognition peers down at him, the glow of his eyes nearly blinding, “Hasn’t Goro-kun already done enough?”

Ren remembers February, December, November. Ren can also see what’s looming within arm’s reach, “Then why am I in the palm of your hand?”

“Why change the heart of every person you come across? Why surround yourself with friends willing to die for you? Why use my life as a bargaining chip during that February?” The cognition pokes him in the side. Ren flinches. “Do you know how easy it would be to take advantage of your size? Goro-kun’s never truly had power over you, but I do. And what can you do about it?”

“Stop you,” Ren breathes, like a mantra, “We’re going to fix this, we’re going to save you—“

“You’re so cute,” The cognition says, like he’s baby-talking a kitten. “I could hurt you, if I want to state the obvious. But, I think it’d only break Goro-kun’s distorted heart if I killed the boy he loves.”

The air in Ren’s lungs goes cold. A beat passes. Two. Eventually, he manages to stutter out, “I’m sorry?”

The cognition searches his face, eyes gleaming like a spotlight, before fanged lips curl into a smile. “Aw, you didn’t know? It really didn’t take a detective. You were his only companion, why wouldn’t he develop a puppy crush?” Ren can’t quite convince himself he’s lying, can’t quite pull air into his lungs before he rumbles, “You weren’t there for the dozens of unsent date invites, the Wikipedia pages he read just to impress you, and, oh, the way he threw up that curry you made for him when he killed you—“

“Stop it—“ Ren tries, tries, tries. “Let me go—“

“He needed you, and he couldn’t stand it.” The cognition lifted him up, running a finger down his side, his touch gentle. “He had to push you away, you see? Push himself into nothingness, find the magic beans that would help him repent, but also forget you.” Ren squirms, grunts, but massive fingers press against him back, hold him still as the cognition pets him. “He failed, if it wasn’t obvious. He thought of you every night, until his heart became corrupted, and his desires swelled his perception of himself into me. Don’t flatter yourself, truly, it wasn’t only because of you—with everything that’s happened to him, it’s a miracle it didn’t distort sooner.”

“You’re—“ Hurting him, except he wasn’t. The cognition was just petting him and talking to him and Ren wanted to crawl out of his skin. “Stop—“

“And now, I’m here.” Goro hums, finally flipping Ren onto his back, pinning him down with his index finger. Ren struggles against the weight, and only feels the cognition’s breath wash over him in a silent laugh. “I’m here to do what he was too helpless, to small to do. He never wanted to let you go? Then I won’t. He wanted to lock you in a cage, away from anyone else but him? Then I will. He wanted your entire world to narrow to his hands, to pull your life on a string guided by his fingers?” The cognition leans in. Smirks, wide. “Who am I to deny him the privilege?”

Here, an arm’s reach away from his massive face, Ren can tell the cognition is telling the truth. His organs feel too large for his body. He fights the urge to shield himself, to claw out his heart, to plead and beg and ask why didn’t he just tell me—?

It’s not like he wasn’t fond of Akechi, but even if he could make his lips form the word love, he’s sure neither of them would want their relationship to progress like this.

Though, what is this cognition, but twisted desires made real?

“Don’t worry about anything else, okay?” The cognition continues, after Ren’s almost caught his breath. “I’ll take care of everything. If your thieves are smart enough, they won’t come back to us. If not—what’s a few more pests to squash?”

The cognition peers down at him, lips turning up as Ren writhes under his finger. It’s impossibly heavy, crushing the air out of his lungs, the weight of the cognition's words flutter around Ren’s head. His blood-red gloves look so small against the cognition’s digit, and for all of Ren’s Metaverse strength, he doesn’t budge an inch. He probably won’t even be able to save his friends.

“You’re so cute when you squirm,” The cognition says, with a tone like dark chocolate. “Maybe I will keep you around. I have all the treasure I need, right here—“

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing Ren can think to say.

The cognition blinks at him, like a cat watching their prey. Ren licks his lips, wills himself to breathe under the weight of his finger. “I’m sorry we let it get this bad. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were alive until a week ago, that I didn’t do anything to help you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you lo—your feelings until it was too late.”

The finger’s weight lessens, a little. Ren continues, peering up, trying to see if he can pierce through those golden eyes. “I’m going to fix this, Goro. We’re going to save you, I promise.”

The cognition stares at him. Ren recognizes the poker face as the one he’s leveraged to Goro countless times. Gradually, he lifts his finger off Ren’s chest. Ren doesn’t move, lying on his side, waiting for the cognition’s next play.

With the force of a runaway train, the cognition’s fingers snap to Ren’s collar. The surface of the massive palm vanishes. Ren’s legs flail, his hands trying, in vain, to stop his coat from choking him. The cognition pulls him up, until all he can see is his eyes, staring him down like speeding headlights.

“Don’t pretend like this isn’t a game to you and your group of Phantom Thieves, like I haven’t ruined every—“ The cognition cuts himself off, barks out a laugh. “You don’t care about him, you never did. That’s why I’m here, to give him what he’s too cowardly to take.”

“That’s why I’m, here, too,” Ren grunts. He debates kicking out, clipping the edge of the cognition’s nose with his boot, but considering how far off the ground he is—and how close he is to the cognition’s mouth—he thinks better of it. “You think I wouldn’t come all this way if I didn’t care—?”

The cognition stands up in one, fluid movement. Ren can’t help the scream he gives, nor the way his hands claw for purchase against massive fingers. Genuine sweat beads on his forehead. The ground’s so far away—

“I wonder, how your thieves would react to seeing you reduced to a stain?” The cognition stomps forward, fingers steel around Ren’s scruff, even as he kicks and sways. “You seem to forget your place, little thing—“

Static electricity sings through Ren’s veins, adrenaline keeping him struggling, even as the cognition dangles him over a skyscraper-sized drop. “Goro—“

The slam of the cognition opening the cage is the only thing Ren can register, before he sends him flying through the air. His side hits the gilded floor, sliding across it like an abandoned toy.

“Fe, fi, fo, fum. I smell the blood of a lying thief.” Ren cranes his neck up just in time to see the cognition slam the door closed. He glares down at him, his shadow blocking out the light, and Ren’s never quite felt so small. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

With that, the cognition stomps away. He settles down into that massive throne, ignoring Ren like he truly is just some pet in a cage. Ren’s hands swelter. This sucks. This sucks, and yet…

All he can do is sit back, wait for his thieves, and hope that, after they change Goro’s heart, making things right isn’t too out of reach..

[lulubelle0318]

Another WIP that I might never finish, but I want to write another beanstalk story, but with the TF2 mercenaries as giants. Debating who I want to have as Jack.

[sizediscount]

sizediscount’s g/t fic masterpost

dont really post much on here and im not too keen on cross posting to tumblr atm just because of the effort it takes, so heres a masterpost of all my genshin g/t fics :)

divine comfort

one shot, 759 words.

Raiden and Aether enjoy a comforting moment with eachother.

[AO3]

everything else disappears (when you come around)

one shot, 1.6k words

A Haikaveh Borrower Au

[AO3]

am i winning your heart?

one shot, 1.8k words

fairy!twins + big brother dainsleif share some pie with venti

[AO3]

never see the sun back home

multichaptered, 1.3k words

borrower!aether au centered around the anemo characters

ch 1. ||

[junipers-teacup]

Mama a girl behind YOU ‼️‼️

Astarion and @sm0lprism ‘s borrower OC Ria’s first meeting 🫣

I Had fun with this! I hope I did Ria justice 🍁

[kittydoremi]

Art I commissioned from @weirdozjunkary

Sonic and Elise from my Sonic and The Sol Flower fanfic/au 😊