#visitor pass solutions

[tereotechsolution]

Benefits of Visitor Management Solutions

visitor management system India may help you manage the workplace for safety and provide a full audit trail via the use of technologies like touchless entry control. A visitor management system need not operate in isolation from the rest of your security infrastructure.

[moonsaver]

hiyaaa! its me again!! omg is it just me or is there just NO robin x reader content like, at all???

please please please!! if you don't mind, please give me your robin romantic headcanons?

an extra add on food for thought: what do you think would happen if both siblings happen to pine after the same person?

Hello dear inbox visitor! I think it would be better if you sent it during while requests were open, since it kind of teeters on the line between thoughts vs requests haha. Anyways, you're right. We dont have enough x robin content :(

Lets try and fix it!

Robin seems like a very attentive lover, which is surprising considering how busy she would be since she's a popstar.

During conversations or small talk, passing phrases, she makes sure to listen to you lovingly,and makes note of all the small things about you.

To me, I think she'd be the type of person who puts your name as just a pink heart icon, and notes down all the things you like in the description of your contact. She also has a separate notes tab for other things like your wishlist items, things she's noticed about you, and so on.

She's optimistic, but not unrealistic. If you're the overthinker type, she grounds you flawlessly. She's very rational and sorts things out carefully with you, sitting you down gently and discusses everything on your mind with you. Gives you a lovely, soft smile when you stop overthinking and come to a solution with a relaxed sigh.

Surprisingly sensitive to physical contact. She's not touch-starved, nor averse to it, but still is unused to it for the most part. However, she likes holding hands very often. She'd be very happy if you rubbed your thumb over her knuckles. Often takes off her glove just to hold your hand. I feel like her hands would be pleasantly cold. She squeaks slightly when you kiss her face! Then giggles. She likes the feeling of you peppering her face in kisses.

Lets you touch her wings often, and they are incredibly soft. They smell pleasantly of flowers, and sometimes she flutters them on your face to make you giggle. She doesn't mind if you mess them up a bit, as long as it's not before a concert.

If you have hair long enough to braid, she'll want to do that. She has cute little accessories on her that she uses whenever you let her, cute clips and hair ties that she uses for you specifically. She also really likes it when you braid her hair. She doesn't care if it's not pretty, she just likes that you're the one doing it.

Often, I imagine she gets overwhelmed with the amount of people working on her appearances that sometimes she just asks them to leave and has you help her work on her appearance. It could just be feedback and she'll appreciate it. She just likes being in your presence whenever she's overwhelmed, which can be often if she's especially out on a tour. If you can't be there physically, she'll want to call you, or replay any voice notes you may have sent previously. She saves them all – date, time, named and even the context behind them. She misses you dearly whenever she's away, just doesn't have the time to even express it.

If you're alright with cosmetics of all kinds, she's a little thrilled. She'll want you to try her perfumes and clothes, too. Kisses you directly if you ask for her lip balm or lipgloss, then giggles at the transferred sheen. Likes trying out new eye palette colors on you, trying out new styles of makeup, and often asks for suggestion on her own outfits. She also adores when you both dress up in matching outfits, and has a neat little album of you two consisting of photos that she takes.

Robin can feel a bit shy asking for affection or doing cute couple-things. She really likes the corny things, like indirect kisses from shared straws, being stared at while she's doing something, being kissed in the rain, dancing together, etc.. she also probably saw you eat a lollipop once, and wanted to ask you for a taste, but got too shy and didn't ask. You have to take the initiative and comfort her into asking for these things.

Anyways, if both siblings pine for the same person.. it's gonna be a little strained. Depends on how much they like the reader respectively, but lets assume both of them are head over heels for reader.

Robin and Sunday pining after the same person may either bring them together or put more strain on their already, slightly distant relationship. I feel like Sunday may either support his sister, convince her to pursue you and share you with him, or guilt trip her into not approaching you. Not even as a yandere, Sunday can be a little manipulative and greedy when it comes to his feelings. Ever since Robin left Sunday alone as the head of the Oak Family, I feel like he would harbor a small amount of apathy or even dislike towards her because of it, and on top of that, if she ends up liking you, he'll feel oddly like you've been stolen from him.

Robin.. won't back off so easily however. She's a smart girl, and even if she obliges to her brother's whims, she knows him better than anyone else. She'll probably stay docile for the most part, though. However, she isn't just a pretty face. Just because she remains docile doesn't mean she's given you up completely to her brother. She'll at least remain stubborn on having you to some degree, even if it means straining their relationship a bit.

[yandere-3-sagau]

To Take for Granted

Genshin Cult AU x Reader Angst

word count: 862

warning(s): genshin cult au, angst, neglect, death, mentions of suicide

—

They say to never meet your heroes.

Imagine you isekai but as your mortal self with no special divine powers. Only the knowledge of the characters and the game you played.

At first, the acolytes are amazed to be in the presence of the creator. They worship you, give you everything you could ever want and shower you in praise and affection.

However, the more you stay, the more their affection and worship begins to dwindle.

They begin to lose faith.

You don’t meet their godly expectations. You’re not as divine and all knowing as they had originally thought. They don’t gain any divine blessings or power from worshipping or devoting themselves to you.

You are not their perfect creator, you have flaws. You’re human.

The archons no longer prioritize you, choosing to take care of their prospective nations than to cater to you.

Their attitude change is gradual and you notice their declining interest in you pretty early on, but you can’t do anything to stop it. It’s not long before your lively temple becomes desolate with little to no visitors.

Although you’re hurt and disappointed, you are a bit grateful. You’ve read stories of imposters being slaughtered so you feel like being forgotten is better than being hunted. Still, you’re not one to stay where you’re unwanted. You begin to do research on how to return back to your original world. You’ve had your fill of Teyvat and you think it’s time to go home.

Eventually, you come to the conclusion that the only way to return is to die in this world.

Though you’re scared, you push through and find the most peaceful way to pass. A poison that will stop your heart in your sleep.

After traveling to all of the beautiful viewpoints of Teyvat one final time, you return to your temple and consume the poison.

When you open your eyes once more, you’re back home in your bed. The familiar Genshin Impact loading screen is open on your phone.

With a sad smile, you delete the app.

In Teyvat, the archons, adepti, everyone is panicking.

Plants are dying and the weather is unstable. Farmers are unable to yield any crops from the constantly changing weather. Monsters are becoming increasingly violent and restless and no one can seem to find an explanation.

Until one character remembers you.

Their supposed creator. Everyone decides to pay a visit to your temple on the off chance that you may know of a solution to their current issues.

The area around your temple is peaceful. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining along with a soft wind that keeps the area nice and warm. It’s a stark difference from the cold and gloomy weather all around Teyvat.

They knock on the doors to your temple but no one answers. After waiting for a while, they let themselves in.

They find you laying peacefully on the silk sheets of your bed. Your eyes are closed and you have a small smile on your face. If it wasn’t for your cold skin and the absence of a pulse, they would have thought you were sleeping.

When the archons announce the death of the creator, the cause of all of their problems becomes apparent to all.

The land of Teyvat itself, is in mourning.

The period of morning lasts for one whole year.

Even as the mourning period of Teyvat ends and all goes back to normal, the characters are still not at ease.

When they realize that you’re truly gone, the characters have no idea what to feel. They didn’t notice at first how much your presence truly effects the land of Teyvat.

Something about their world now just seems so artificial.

Without the presence of the creator, it seems as if everything’s become stagnant. Water still runs, clouds still float in the sky but for some reason nothing seems real. The characters feel as if they have no purpose, no drive.

They begin to notice things that they’ve never noticed before. The citizens in each of their nations seem to say the same things over and over again. The people they help with tasks, have the same reoccurring problem. It becomes unsettling.

The acolytes that have originally lost faith have become more religious than ever. They pray every single day, hoping that you’d hear them and realize how sorry they are to have neglected you.

Some have become so devoted to the point of studying how to summon or even descend a god. To forcefully bring you back to Teyvat just so they could see you in person once more.

They had beaten themselves up over the layer of dust accumulated on the furniture in your temple. Now, your acolytes come in personally everyday to make sure every inch of your temple is spotless.

But no matter how much time passes or how much they pray, they are unable to feel your presence.

Though disheartened, they understand. You must still be upset with them but how can they prove themselves to you if they never see you again? However, it’s okay if you’re not ready to come back to Teyvat. They will come to you instead.

[sevencolorsatlast]

Archons Reacting To Their Creator Singing Pt. 2

Part 1 [Venti, Zhongli, Ei and Nahida] || Part 2 [Furina] (You're Here!)

Author's Note: 4.2 Update Spoilers! You've been warned! Song used: "Curses" by The Crane Wives. No beta, we die like my heart while playing this quest.

Update: I changed the verse weeee. Also corrected a couple of mistakes.

Content Warning(s): None.

Other Notes: Default SAGAU / GN!Reader / Drabble / 800+ Words / Ao3 Link

[ Furina ]

"There's still cobwebs in the corners

And the backyard's full of bones

Won't you stay with me, my darling

When this house don't feel like home?"

You came down from the heavens weeks ago, knowing Fontaine is in danger but kept your head low and disguised yourself as a Fontainian to seek solutions to their prophecy. No one suspected you aside from the Vision wielders and a few Guardes who eventually left you alone since you seem to be harmless. You also manage to avoid any unpleasant encounters with your followers while roaming around the city.

Visiting Focalors in the opera house when no one was around was... rather an eventful one; she hopes you do not intervene with her plans to save her beloved people. You tried to reason with her: you are her god — you can forgive her and her people but she says it is her duty as Hydro Archon as prophecies cannot be changed. To pursue "justice", so to speak, is via the death of her and her throne.

You no longer attempt to pursue the topic which Focalors tacitly appreciates. Instead, you promised to look after her "human" self... Furina.

She smiles ever so graciously, knowing that such a divine being like you would keep Furina safe and sound - even after she meets her fate. You ask if you can hug Focalors, she happily accepts as this will be your first and last meeting her. You give most of your strength to hug her and you pull away, saying your tearful goodbye.

Everything went down according to her plan; watching scenes unfolding right before your eyes. Furina's trial was heart wrenching to watch, you want to jump and defend her... but this was all part of her "divine" self's plan. You shouldn't interfere, you reminded yourself, you clench your fists as the last puzzle of the prophecy reveals itself in front of you and the rest of the audience.

After the flooding in Fontaine died down and you let weeks pass by to let the country recover, you sought out Neuvillette. He is surprised to see you, easily seeing through your disguise. He bows before you and airs his concerns about Furina who had moved away from Palais Mermonia. You gently grab his hand and hold it in-between yours, telling him to stand up. You reassure that you'll be discreetly visiting Furina and the Hydro Sovereign gives you the address on where she currently lives.

During sunset, you found Furina cooped up in her new home. You knock and it took her a while before peeking through the small gap of the door. To put it lightly, her place is in disarray even when the gap of her door is small — her things are littered on the floor and she... doesn't look too good. She is far from well-presented and she looks like a ghost.

You can tell her eyes are red from crying and lack of sleep is evident on her unusually pale face. Her once kept hair's a mess and her clothes aren't well-presented like they usually do. Her hat is also nowhere to be found, it must've been included in the pile of mess scattered about her floorboards.

She weakly asks who you are and tells you that she doesn't accept visitors. You look around, making sure no one is around to see your transformation. Once you know the coast is clear, you transform into your normal self; soft glow emanating from your skin.

Once you are done dusting off your robes, Furina suddenly pulls you into her home and slams the door behind her - stuttering "Your Grace" under her breath and muttering how she's embarrassed that she's in a mess.

You turn around to speak and, instead, you are met with a tight hug from Furina. She buries her head into your shoulder and clutching onto your robes.

She doesn't understand why you hadn't come down from the heavens sooner... and you tell her Focalors wanted to do her part while you witnessed everything. She remained silent for a while before letting out a few sobs. You finally let your arms wrap around her; like a parent hugging their long-lost child.

To calm her down, you sing a song you know from the depths of your heart; the one that is ingrained to the forefronts of your mind even as a child. You alternate between singing and humming while gently running your hand up and down on Furina's back.

Her sobs subside as the last lyric of the song leaves your lips. She wipes her tears away with her hands and regains her composure. She pulls her head away from your shoulder, her eyes yet to look at your direction.

"My apologies for seeing me in such a state, Your Grace." She says, her voice slightly above a whisper, "And ...That's a wonderful song you've sung. I... appreciate it..."

She sniffles; it reminded you when you were a kid. You smile at the fond memory.

"The song was sung to calm me down by my caretakers." You say, "I suppose it still holds its charm."

She lets out a weak chuckle and meets your eyes, "I... Thank you, Your Grace."

"For what?" You inquired despite knowing the answer. She pulls you into another hug, you could've sworn you had seen her genuinely smiling for the first time.

"For being here with me." She says, a small spark of joy coming from her voice, "For seeing the 'real' me."

As she hums your song, you hold each other close until the sun finally sets from the horizon.

[ruified]

I realyyyy love angst :D

There's a oneshot or a scenario that i've been thinking about that's been rotting all over my head where what if reader / s/o is in their deathbed and about to die soon to a uncurable illness and (character) (i guess chuuya or sigma? idm) who thinks of reader as someone special to them is watching over them until their very last breath

LIKE

WHAT WILL THWY DO AND HOW WILL THEY REACT BEFORE AND AFTER DEATH!?!?

Haha my silly little idea is getting the best of me i just wanted to share this idea because i want my feelings to get hurt

❝ until your last 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 ˎˊ˗

warnings: death . characters: dazai osamu, atsushi nakajima, sigma, fyodor dostoevsky, chuuya nakahara . synopsis: their s/o is on their deathbed, they all have their own ways of coping with it . a/n: sorry this took me so long to get to, i was thinking very hard! i hope this is to your liking and you don’t mind little ideas like this instead of a scenario ^^;

DAZAI —

— Dazai doesn’t know what to exactly make of the whole situation, you are so incredibly important to him and now he’s going to lose you? It’s sending him into a downward spiral.

— He refuses to touch you anymore, he just can’t do it

— He wants to make the most out of what little time you have left together but he also has an urge to cut ties with you and make it easier on both of you

— He eventually decides that he can hold your hand at least while you lay in that hospital bed

— After you pass, he tries his best to take care of himself because he knows that’s what you’d want, but that doesn’t mean it’s not hard

— He visits your grave frequently at first, then it dies down to your birthday, anniversaries, and holidays

ATSUSHI —

— He has been keeping a close eye on you since he first noticed you were sick, and he’s been taking great care of you ever since! However, that doesn’t stop the inevitable

— When he heard the news, tears welled in his eyes and he had to excuse himself, he didn’t want to cry in front of you

— He kept you company as much as he could

— On days where he had a lot of work, he’d ask someone else like Kyouka to go check on you

— He would prepare little lunch boxes for you every day and bring them to you

— He brings a lunch box to your grave for you

SIGMA —

— He paced around a lot in the hospital room, especially after he heard the news

— He tried so hard to think of a solution but nothing realistic came to mind

— He had you come stay in a room at the casino so he could at least still be close to you even when he had work

— Your room was kept away from any other visitors and was close to his office, making it easy for him to check on you

— He asked his staff members to change your glass of water frequently and give you a new warm blanket when you needed it

— He kept himself busy with work to try and keep away the dread of your passing

FYODOR ���

— After hearing the news, he decided it would be best to care for you at home instead of being kept in such a dreary hospital

— He would read books to you to keep you entertained

— He’d bring his laptop into your room sometimes so that he could at least keep you company even while he worked

— He’d cook soup for you frequently, sometimes even feeding it to you

— He asks you if you have any wishes before you go, he doesn’t want you leaving with any regrets, and he does whatever he can to make it all come true

— He attends to any possible unfinished business you may have before your passing so that you can go without worry

CHUUYA —

— He really doesn’t believe it at first

— He contacts Mori and asks him to look over the medical records and tell him the truth; Mori tells him that it is in fact all real

— He’ll often sit next to you and squeeze your hand, refusing to let go

— He’ll fall asleep with you in your hospital room, draped over you in your bed

— He sits next to you and cuts your apple slices into bunnies, or sometimes other, more intricate shapes

— He asks you often if there’s anything you need him to do for you, also wanting to fulfill any last wishes you may have

— He makes sure you have a proper funeral, he’s tired of those he cares about not getting one.

[7ndipity]

Soulmate AU Scenarios

Jin x Reader, Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: only partially edited, not proofread

A/N: These have been sitting in my drafts for soo long, I don’t even remember when I wrote them tbh, but I figured since I didn’t have anything else ready for today, I’d share these with the class!

(Note, these are part of my Non-Linear series, which means they’re unfinished and ask motivated, see m.list for details)

Masterlist Non-Linear m.list

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

J: (Feeling a shock when you touch your SM)

Jin braced himself as he wove through the crowded streets, trying to avoid bumping into anyone as the static air began to make his hair bristle.

Everywhere he went, tiny zaps of electricity would hit him, sometimes from just the slightest of touches. It was like wearing a wool sweater all the time, and it made him tense and anxious every time he left the house.

He had gone to multiple doctors and specialists to try and figure out what was going on, but all they could ever come up with was he was just hypersensitive to his type of soulmark, feeling things too intensely.

He had hoped that they would be able to help him find some sort of treatment or solution to his problem, but all they had basically told him was to try wearing extra layers to lessen the sensation and to just ignore it as best he could.

He made his way slowly down the crowded sidewalk, trying to avoid getting too close to anyone, but it was almost impossible to avoid bumping into a few people. By the time he made it to crosswalk, he could hardly stand the static buzz around him anymore, more than ready to just go home

Suddenly, he heard a small curse as someone behind him stumbled, falling against him.

“Yi-aish!” Lightning shot up his arm, sending him flying back in shock and pain. Heart pounding from the sudden jolt of electricity, he looked up to see you sitting on the ground, gripping your shoulder in pain from the shock.

Realization hit him as he stared down at you, his fingers still tingling from the intensity of the shock.

“A-are you okay?” He asked, hesitating for a moment before offering you his hand.

Glancing between it and his face, you cautiously accepted it, your expression mirroring his curiosity and concern.

This time, when your palms touch, neither of you felt a painful jolt, but rather a soothing warmth that spread up your arm, like sunlight in your veins.

He smiled shyly at you. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Jungkook:(sharing a very specific mark with your SM, SM’s tattoos/scars appear on your skin)

For the nth time today, you tugged down the sleeve of your sweater to cover your right hand, hiding the writing and designs that decorated your skin.

Having the same tattoos and scars as your soulmate would be enough to make anyone feel a bit self conscious at times on its own, no matter how beautiful you might think they are, but when your soulmate was someone famous, having such a visible marker of who you were bound to made you a target for all kinds of attention, some of which could even be potentially dangerous.

So many people tried to copy tattoos, trying to pass themselves off as the real deal, the only way to know for sure was to get some kind of test to know if it was regular ink or a ‘soul mark’ as they were sometimes called.

When the marks first started showing up, you were in complete denial, but the collection of designs had quickly grown beyond the point of denying, so you had switched to ignoring/hiding them. Lots of people chose to ignore their marks and make their own lives, and you knew enough about your soulmate to know there wasn’t a real possibility to be together.

Until your manager came by to tell you that you would be giving a tour of the venue/museum/historical site/smth where you worked to some very important visitors.

When you walked out and saw him standing there, it was like the world stopped. Everything seemed to slow for a fraction of a second, your breath hanging in the air as your eyes met.

But then, painfully, the world kept going. Everyone kept talking, your manager introduced you to everyone and left you to show him and his members around.

Pushing your initial shock aside, you focused on leading them around on the tour, answering any questions they had and chatting easily. You actually found yourself having a really nice time with them, almost forgetting your earlier nerves, until you noticed Jungkook's eyes on you, or more specifically, your hand.

As you had been pointing out something, he caught sight of the dark patterning over your knuckles, just barely peeking out of your oversized sleeves.

You tried to tuck your hand out of sight, but he was too quick, stepping forward and catching your arm, tugging your sleeve up to reveal the numerous, interweaving tattoos that covered your skin.

You locked your eyes on the floor, afraid of what he would say.

“Finally.” He breathed, making you look up in surprise.

He smiled down at you in disbelief. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn

[pip-n-chips]

This line right here has had a choke hold on me for the last five minutes, sir, on god?

hnnnnfggshshjsk SIR

quick content warnings: pregnancy talk (PC used to be pregnant), Harper being a right fucking creep, kidnapping kinda??

If I remember correctly, IRL, there's a certain amount of time that has to pass before it's safe to have sex again after giving birth (seems like it ranges from 2 to 6 weeks), and Harper would be mindful of that before doing anything to you. (He doesn't want to damage to your pretty little hole!)

But here's the issue- Harper wants to be the FIRST one to fuck you postpartum. He's been thinking about knocking you up with your next kid ever since you got pregnant with the first one, and there's no way in hell he's going to let someone else get that chance before him. He's earned it, he thinks. He's been so helpful throughout your pregnancy; he's been there every step of the way. He deserves it, he knows. You owe him that.

His solution is to keep you somewhere safe, somewhere monitored, where he KNOWS you're safe. Maybe it's a private room in the hospital, locked behind a keycard swipe. You'll be allowed visitors, at first. He's not some monster; if your loved ones want to come see you, they may. But he doesn't like the way some of them look at you, and he hates the way you look at them back. So the visitor hours grow shorter and shorter, effectively cutting people off. (He's also very particular on which nurses come to treat you. This hospital is full of dangerous people, and, unfortunately, he doesn't have the authority to fire whoever he pleases.)

If people ask, he mentions something about irregular results. Uses a lot of buzzwords, says it's not safe for outside germs to come near you. That they need to be extra careful around you, so it's best to leave you be. To rest.

This moves onto the next part, he needs to keep you in his grasp long enough for it to be safe to fuck you again, to breed you again. (And yes, Harper could get you pregnant in other ways- he could insert his sperm via tube/syringe like he's done to many test subjects before, but his cock disagrees. He needs to feel himself inside of you. He's waited long enough. He can wait a little more, the prize'll be worth it.) He uses similar excuses explanations as to why he needs to keep you with him at the hospital longer. He needs to monitor your levels, your progress.

"Something seems wrong," he'd say, "best to keep you longer, for your health."

It's easier to handle when other people come to him for answers, looking to call him out on his bullshit. They have no power here, he doesn't even have to talk to them, if he really didn't want to. (But he's no coward, he can stand tall with a smile that'll make others shy away.) All it takes is a little manipulation to get them to turn around. He's the expert here. He knows what's best for you, not them. If they refuse, well, it's bad to cause a ruckus in a healing environment, yeah? They'll be kindly escorted out.

It's harder when it comes to you, though. It's not like he wasn't expecting it- he's prepared- but it's still disappointing when you start getting restless. You want to leave, he gets that. You want to go home, to be with your kid. And he understands that. But you can't go yet. Not yet. Not until he gets what he wants. Not until you're ready. But, unfortunately for him, your patience runs out before the timer does, and you're,,, less than happy. And he didn't want to do this (he did, he was just waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect excuse), but your behavior starts to get so erratic and upsetting, so he throws you in the asylum. (Poor thing. So distraught, you're a danger to yourself. He had to step in.) Somewhere even more isolated safe, and he keeps you there for as long as he needs.

When the time comes, after one of your examinations, Harper is shaking from restrained excitement. He almost forgets to hypnotize you, drug you, whatever- he's just so eager to be inside you and pump you full of his seed.

And when he does get to... oh boy, it's heavenly. The wait was worth it.

[friendly-neighborhood-boricua]

[7] Kindergarten Graduation

Summary: Liam graduates from kindergarten, and another thing changes in your life.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!single mom!reader.

A/N(18/8/2024): GUYS I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!!!! ok maybe not really finished, I think I may continue to add to this au as I think of ideas and please please please send me ideas/requests if you have any and I'll do my best to write them :) thank you all so much for reading my silly little story, I really appreciate all the love and support you've given me, even when I take months and months to update (sorry) all my love to each and every one of you <3<3<3<3

Previous Part: You Get A Visitor in the ER This is the last one as of right now! Click here for the series masterlist

Alright it’s taken a hot second

But we’re here guys

The end of the year!! *jazz hands*

The school year, that is

Liam has been getting more and more excited for summer break as the weeks pass by

You promised him that you’d visit your dad, whom Liam hasn’t seen since he was two because he lives so far away

You and your dad aren’t exactly the closest but you get along well and your son thinks grandpa’s the funniest thing since sliced bread

And it’s about time that you visit him anyway

But first, Liam needs to get to the end of the school year

And he has! Yay!

The administration at Liam’s school likes to put on a little graduation ceremony for the kindergarteners and the departing fifth graders, and that ceremony happens to be today

And it’s as if your car knows that you have something important to do today

Because she’s just refusing to start up

The engine makes a horrid whining-grinding sound when you turn the key in the ignition, and it makes you a little nervous that the whole thing is gonna blow

So you’ve resigned yourself to finding a different way to get to Liam’s school

Side note: you have the misfortune of being very anxious to get to events quite early in an effort to make sure you aren’t late, and you’ve definitely imparted that worry onto your son

Which means you have a nervous six-year-old switching between pacing back and forth beside your useless car and wrapping his arms around your thigh in an anxious iron grip

At least you’d left your apartment early, so there’s still some time to figure out a solution

You run through the list in your head: the school is close enough to walk to but it would take too much time, Tonks and her parents are at her own high school graduation so that’s obviously not an option, Poppy is working today so she can’t pick you up, and you absolutely refuse to ask anything more of Ms. Hope since she already does so much for you with Liam

The idea dawns on you to take an Uber just as the front door to your apartment building opens

And of course, a solution on legs walks into the parking lot

(Even if you don’t like burdening him by asking for his help)

James smiles as soon as he sees you and Liam

Liam’s face also lights up like a Christmas tree as he waves enthusiastically from his spot attached to your leg

You shouldn’t be surprised when James saunters over to you both to say good morning

And you especially shouldn’t be surprised when he offers help with your car troubles

(You were terrified slightly worried when James had left the ER that you’d crossed a line when you kissed his bandaged palm, and maybe you did, but James didn’t let it change your dynamic—if anything, he was just more and more happy-looking to see you every morning, and it was hard not to let his happiness spread to you too)

You refuse James’ help at first under the guise that his hand was still healing from that cut, but he just laughed and reminded you that he’d cut himself a month ago and his hand is perfectly fine

Which is how you’ve ended up here

The hood of your car propped up, Liam peering eagerly at the engine, James in a very nice-fitting crewneck t-shirt and formal slacks poking around inside the car, and you holding the suit jacket he’s planning on wearing to shake his kids’ hands as they walk across the gymnasium floor and blushing furiously as you try not to stare at the way the short sleeves of James’ shirt fit so nicely around his biceps

You’re plenty familiar with human anatomy, being a nurse and all, but jesus christ—

After a minute or two, James hums in understanding and Liam replicates the sound, trying to look where James is looking

You do your best to school your face, and you succeed for the most part even if you can’t really get rid of your blush

James explains to you and Liam that the bearings in your alternator have broken down and you sigh deeply

He says he’d offer to fix it but—he laughs a little sheepishly—he’s not the best with cars

Still, his friend Sirius, an administrative aide at Liam’s school, is pretty good at car mechanic stuff and James could probably ask him to do it

You aren’t super keen on agreeing (again with the asking for help thing) but either way, getting your alternator fixed right now isn’t a possibility because all three of us have a kindergarten graduation to get to, Mr. Potter

James’ eyes go wiiiiide lmao but you reassure him that you have enough time to get to the school just in time if you leave now

And of course he offers to drive you both there

You accept (not like you have much of a choice) and quickly find yourself on the way to Liam’s school with Liam in the back, sitting in James’ “emergency car seat”

(He explains that he keeps a kids’ car seat in his trunk in case he ever needs to drive a kid anywhere and that this is the car seat he used to drive Liam to and from school that one time)

(You feel alarmed and then thankful and then terribly guilty when you realize you’d never even thought about if Liam was sitting in a car seat that day)

After all that hassle, you, James, and Liam finally arrive at the school building and hurry to the gym, where the ceremony will be taking place

You send Liam down the hall with James with a kiss on the forehead (James thinks about asking for a kiss himself but thinks better of it) before going to sit in the rows of folding chairs set out for parents and family members

You sit with Molly and Arthur, the parents of Liam’s good friend Ron

Arthur is very jolly and cheery at all times and Molly, while occasionally judgemental, is usually quite kind

This graduation ceremony is very abbreviated just because six-year-olds can’t sit still for four hours like they would have to if this was a real graduation

The event starts with a few quick words from Principal McGonagall about how hard the kids have worked this year and how they deserve to enjoy their time off from school

Then it’s time for the kids to walk across the “stage”, which is really just a mobile raised platform

The principal calls a name, hands the child their very own kindergarten diploma, and sends them to have their photo taken with their respective teacher

James (now with his suit jacket back on) has a wide smile on his face as he stands with the other three kindergarten teachers

You cheer for Ron with Molly and Arthur as he walks across the stage to take a photo with his teacher, and when it’s Liam’s turn, Molly and Arthur (and Ron from the side of the stage) cheer with you

When the ceremony is over, Ron and Liam come running to you, Molly, and Arthur asking if they can go to the playground across the street to play for a while

Molly and Arthur agree to take Liam and Ron while you go let James know where you’re going and that you and Liam can walk home if he has somewhere he needs to be

It’s pretty clear from the look on James’ face that he thinks that even just the idea of leaving you and Liam without a ride is atrocious lmao

He just shakes his head like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard and promises to meet you at the playground once he’s done dealing with Draco’s overbearing parents

You laugh and nod in agreement

The playground across from Liam’s school is really fancy

The city built it pretty recently, so it’s tall with a merry-go-round and a tire-swing and metal slides that you’re sure sear children’s skin off on hot days

Liam and Ron are having the time of their lives already, and you sit with Molly and Arthur on a nearby bench under a tree

It’s easy to talk with them because they ask the same questions whenever you talk

How are you? Oh I’m good. How’s Liam doing? He’s good too. Everything good at the hospital? As good as it can be, yeah.

They’re easy to talk to but it’s difficult to relate to them sometimes

Molly and Arthur are so old they could be your parents, and they have seven kids, the oldest of which is only a couple years younger than you

But at the same time, they’re really rather cute

They’ve been married for who knows how long and they’re still so in love (even when Molly threatens to decapitate her husband)

It’s sort of inspirational in a way

Liam and Ron call over to the three of you saying they’ve found a frog under one of the slides

You sigh and get up, knowing Molly doesn’t want to see any sort of amphibian and Arthur has some back problems so he probably couldn’t bend down to see the frog anyway

By the time you reach Ron and Liam, Ron’s got the poor frog cupped in his hands, and you tell him he may want to put it down since it’s scared

Ron understands and finds a puddle to release the frog into

Molly, Arthur, and Ron end up having to leave pretty quickly

Their oldest is graduating today too and they need to make it to his ceremony, so you and Liam bid them farewell and promise to make plans to hang out over the summer sometime

James sees you being dragged by Liam towards the swings as he crosses the street towards the park

Neither you nor Liam realizes he’s there until he sits in the swing next to you

But Liam’s flying into James’ gut with the tightest hug ever as soon as he sees him

You laugh and James hugs Liam back and thinks to himself that this is just the best thing ever

He couldn’t be happier in any other place with any other people

Liam tells James about the frog and that somehow evolves into thanking him for being "the best teacher ever, not the bestest because of grammar"

(James thanks Liam for being such a good student, and Liam has the biggest smile after that)

Watching Liam talk to James makes a warm fuzz rise up in your chest

They’re just so sweet with each other :(

James is so attentive with Liam and Liam talks to James like they’re both adults and it’s just the cutest sweetest nicest thing ever

Liam decides to go searching for more frogs in the wooded park near the playground, and you and James are left watching him from the swings

It’s quiet for a little while between you and James, and James suddenly becomes starkly aware that this is the first time you’ve been alone together in the month since his ER visit

Usually you have Liam or maybe Remus, Sirius, or Ms. Hope as a buffer, but now?

Now it’s just him and you

But if there’s one thing James is good at, it’s making people feel comfortable in sorta uncomfortable situations

So he makes some cheesy joke about you being the parent of a kindergarten graduate, and you laugh along and say you couldn’t be more proud of your little boy

And just like that you two are talking like best friends again

You thank him for the kind note he wrote about Liam’s performance in school that he included in the report card from the most recent parent-teacher conference

He recommends a new kind of breakfast cereal you’d seen him buy at the grocery store a couple weeks ago

You update him on the gossip and drama between Poppy and your CNO at work

He thanks you for the black-and-white cookies you made for him as a thank-you for the oatmeal raisin cookies several months ago

You tell him about a large black dog you’d seen waltzing about in Ms. Hope’s front yard once

He asks you to check on the very-much healed scar on his palm (just to be 100% sure it’s not infected, you know?)

You laugh at his jokes and he smiles at your laugh, and eventually, you fall into a silence more comfortable than the last

Eventually, James speaks up

“Hey, um …” He sighs, unsure of how he wants to go about this. I mean, it’s fine now, isn’t it? He’s no longer Liam’s teacher; you’re no longer his student’s mom because Liam isn’t his student anymore. So it’s fine. Right?

“You alright?” you ask, brows pulled just slightly together in concern. James takes a long look into your eyes before turning and setting his gaze on Liam. Your son is crouched under a wide tree, eyes trained on the dirt and mud underneath in search of frogs.

“I … yeah, I’m alright,” James says. “I, uh … I … god, this is so much more difficult than I thought it would be.” He laughs quietly at himself in a way that’s a little too self-deprecating for you to approve of, but he starts talking again before you can comment.

“Okay.” James is firm in his resolve, but he refuses to meet your eyes as he speaks. “I—I’m gonna say something, and I’m not one hundred percent sure how you’ll react, so if I say something wrong or make you uncomfortable in any way, please—please—just tell me and I’ll never bring it up again, but I wanted to tell you how—how I’ve been feeling these past couple months and I hope you feel the same way—I think you do, but maybe I’m just reading into things—but I just wanted to say that, you know, I started to think of you as my friend when we started talking in the mornings, but as soon as I saw you at parent-teacher conferences I knew you were just the kindest, most hard-working, most beautiful person I’d ever had the honor of meeting and—and over the past year, I’ve begun to have these feelings that—but it’s been so hard because I would never ever voice them while Liam is in my class because that would be terribly unprofessional and completely unfair to you, and I just—” James heaves a breath, suddenly sharply aware of the fact that he hadn’t been breathing enough, and gasped for several deep breaths.

He looked into his lap with a self-pitying laugh. “I … sorry, I’m rambling.”

James dug the toe of his shoe into the wood chips, pushing his swing lightly. Why had he done this again? Liam was barely out of his class and he was already hounding after you. God, how desperate and creepy was that? He hadn’t even truly confessed and he was sure he’d already ruined every chance of you even talking to him again, let alone—

The crunch of wood chips made James wince. He closed his eyes, certain you would simply leave him on the swings without so much as a goodbye, until he heard your steps stop abruptly somewhere in front of him. Carefully, one eye peeked open, and he saw your ballet flats standing directly in front of his seat on the swings, facing him. He looked up.

James felt like he knew you pretty well at this point, but the face you were making was one he wasn’t familiar with at all. One moment he thought it was hope, but it would switch and look like fear next, then reluctance, then … was that excitement? Happiness? Eventually, you took a deep breath, shoulders squared and ready to speak.

“Do you like coffee?”

There was a moment of silence before James very eloquently responded, “What?”

You smiled—genuine this time, if awkward.

“I mean, if you don’t, that’s totally fine, I just … figured we could go somewhere to get coffee or—or tea, or a muffin or something before I go to work rather than just, you know, talking by the mailboxes.” You let out a meek laugh, and James feels his shoulders melt away from his ears.

“Do you like coffee?” he asks back.

“I’m a nurse—coffee is the only thing keeping me from falling apart at the seams,” you quip. James outright laughs, which makes you smile, which makes him smile.

“We can go for coffee,” he agrees. “I know a café that has muffins and stuff that’s pretty close to the hospital if you’d like to go there. The Leaky Cauldron. Have you been?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say with a nod of recognition. “Me and Poppy went there for lunch once. They have a rather nice quiche.”

“Alright, it’s a date—”

James’ eyes widen as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and he looks at you like he’s in trouble. The same look of reluctance and a drop of fear clouds your eyes once more, and James finds he loathes it. He prepares himself for the worst.

“I want to say, before we … before we move forward, there are some ground rules.”

James nods quickly, eyes wide as he peered up at you. “Anything.”

You try to strangle the blush that creeps up your neck at that.

“Well, really only one ground rule,” you amend. “No matter what, I’m Liam’s mother first. Always. He already likes you, which is part of the reason I offered to get coffee—I would never go out with someone he didn’t approve of—but when it comes down to it, he’s always going to be my top priority. No matter what.”

James’ eyes soften, and he nods, reassured.

“That was one of the first things I liked about you,” he admits. “Liam is your son—your world—and I completely understand that. I would never ask you to change that, or to think of me before him. Never in a million years.”

James watches your shoulders relax, and you take a small, relieved breath before nodding.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. James just smiles up at you, eyes adoring. You finally allow your own gaze to roam freely over his features, to take in his nose, his eyes, his lips.

You take a step closer, knees brushing lightly against James’ where he sits. Ever so gently, you reach a hand out of your pocket to brush a stray curl behind James’ ear, and your hand lingers there, fingertips brushing against his jaw. James is about even with your sternum, and he can’t help but love with all his heart how pretty you look from this angle.

Slowly, leaving plenty of time for him to pull back, you bend at the waist towards him. You don’t stop until his lips are on yours in a small, tentative kiss. It's gentle and the two of you scarcely move. Just a simple press lasting a handful of seconds before you pull back just enough to look into James’ eyes.

It takes a second for him to come back down to Earth, but you can see the moment when he realizes what just happened because his eyes seem to glow with a radiant sort of joy that has you wanting to kiss him again just so that look never goes away. He smiles broadly, and it must be contagious because you end up smiling slightly too as you slide your palm against his cheek and he reaches a hand up to cup the back of your neck. He simply holds you there for a moment before laughing disbelievingly and bringing your lips to his again.

This is the last one as of right now! Click here for the series masterlist

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Wish Rewrite

Thought I’d try my hand at rewriting Wish for fun. In my version, Asha is Magnifico's daughter. This gives them a more compelling relationship, a more plausible reason for Asha to find out his secrets, and officially makes Asha a royal princess to boot. Additionally, Magnifico is a sympathetic tragic villain, and Amaya has passed away. While I would love to see a fully evil version of Magnifico that’s better written, along with an evil Amaya (I LOVE @hah-studios‘s version here), my version of the story features a twist that heavily depends on his relationship with Asha.

Of course, this version would be 2D animated (or at the VERY LEAST have more ambitious and stylized CG that perfectly mimics 2D), and have songs written by people with actual musical theater backgrounds. 

I am not a writer, so I apologize for the disjointed and clunky ideas. 

Opening Storybook

“Once upon a time, in a world of magic, on an island in the Mediterranean Sea, there was a little kingdom called Rosas. The harvests were never quite plentiful, the town was barren and gray, and the work was long and hard. The people of Rosas knew life could be better, and spent many days wishing it were so.

“A young man, who called himself Magnifico, spent years studying magic to become a master sorcerer, in order to better the lives of those around him. He believed magic was the solution to make one’s deepest desire come true. The King of Rosas was impressed by Magnifico’s skills, as was the king's daughter Amaya. Magnifico and Amaya fell fast in love and soon wed, becoming the new king and queen of Rosas. Together, they brought joy and prosperity to the kingdom. It was a celebrated occasion when the queen announced she was with child.

“Unfortunately, the queen fell ill and died shortly after giving birth to the princess. The king was saddened by the loss of his wife, but he vowed to raise his daughter to become a worthy queen like her mother, and to better himself as a sorcerer so that such tragedy would never befall anyone ever again.”

Young Asha and Magnifico

Every Disney heroine this era has had an intro flashback of them as a child, so it only seems fitting Asha should get her own as well. We cut from the storybook to a scene of Magnifico, with a visible gray streak in his mostly brown hair, showing young Asha the stars before tucking her into bed.

She asks if anyone wishes on the stars anymore. Magnifico explains that people stopped doing that because the stars never answered. Perhaps the stars could be magic, but no one has ever been able to study them because they're so far away. Perhaps one day. 

🎶 At All Costs is reframed as Asha's lullaby. 

Transition

Asha finally falls asleep and Magnifico kisses her on the forehead. Camera pans up to the night sky before fading to black. For a short moment, there is complete darkness, then some very faint sparks of light. Someone is calling Asha's name, but their voice sounds very far away, before it’s suddenly clear and Asha wakes up; it is morning. We are now in the present and Asha is 17. This establishes that she's always had the same odd dream of a dark void with faint sparks for as long as she can remember. 

Present Day Asha

Asha is studious and hardworking, but is frustrated that her father does not trust her with more important duties. Magnifico is training her in magic to succeed him, or at least he promised he would, but he seems hesitant to teach her more advanced magic than the basics. Asha has memorized every law textbook assigned to her, as well as a handful of magic textbooks she snuck from her father’s study. 

Today Asha is going down to give a tour to new visitors, and she takes this very seriously. Dialogue implies Magnifico was hesitant to let her do this, but eventually gave in, hinting at how overprotective he is. Even more than wanting to prove her worth as a future ruler, Asha wants to connect to the people, and secretly wants a friend her own age. 

Dahlia and Simon

In this version, Dahlia is older, and renamed to something like Yuki or Bianca to more subtly reference Snow White instead of Doc. Simon is also older and serves as Asha’s bodyguard, and references the Huntsman from Snow White instead of Sleepy. (Two new character designs would be created to reference Doc and Sleepy, and the seven teens are relegated to one-off townsfolk.) “Dahlia” and Simon are the only people Asha is close with, since her father is reluctant to let her leave the castle except on supervised royal duties. “Dahlia” serves as an auntie figure, and Simon is very understanding of Asha’s frustrations of being cooped up in the castle and occasionally lets her sneak off (but he always emphasizes safety and resourcefulness). She can confide in them when she feels she’s being ignored by her father. 

🎶 Welcome to Rosas

The song would be cheery at first glance, but on closer inspection, it’s apparent Rosas has seen better days. There’s some cracks in the buildings, and the murals and statues have lost some of their shine. The townsfolk and Asha explain it’s just a bunch of minor hiccups, and they’re working on it. 

The visitors ask if there are rules for wishes being granted. Asha and the townsfolk explain the basic rules (which include no wishing for death or harm, no making people fall in love, and no wishing for the dead to be brought back to life; as a shout-out to Aladdin). Also, Magnifico does not grant them right away, but needs time to make sure the work is done just right. After all, magic is a science as well as an art. 

When the visitors ask the townsfolk about wishes that have previously been granted, they're told about relatively simple things, like being given a new food cart or a pet cat. This foreshadows what Magnifico does with their wishes. When the townsfolk are asked if they had ever wished for something more significant, they stumble for an answer. They say they're just content with what they have, but they seem unsure. Some of the townsfolk appear lethargic, and some even slightly fumble during their dance routine, but manage to make the big finale. They ask the visitors if they’ve been convinced to live in Rosas and are given a noncommittal answer, “Too soon to say. We'll just stay the night and see how it goes.” Asha brings the new visitors to her father. (Sabino’s character design can be re-used here as one of the visitors, as he’s no longer Asha’s grandfather in this version.) 

Side note, I would love it if some of the townsfolk were given a few notable quirks to stand out. The artbook for this movie was lovely, but in the final film, all the townsfolk sort of blend together into genericness. The only one I can recall from the movie with clarity is the girl who wished to fly and meets “Peter Pan” in the end. Even Ecanto’s “We Don't Talk About Bruno” had memorable townsfolk and most only had a single line of dialogue or less. The seven teens would of course feature in this song number. 

Present Day King Magnifico

Magnifico's hair is completely gray and white now, and he’s got wrinkles under his eyes. He seems burnt out from his job, but puts on a professional face for his subjects and visitors. Asha is the only one Magnifico shows any tenderness. But for the most part, Asha feels her father has been distant for a long time. 

Magnifico thanks Asha for bringing the visitors and tries to dismiss her, but she argues she should start sitting in on the wish-granting sessions so that she can properly learn to take over from her father. This is an argument they have gone over many times before, and her father finally relents today. 

The inciting incident

They begin the consultation, starting with Sabino. Magnifico specifies that the wisher must meditate and reach deep within themselves, and recall their desire with every fiber of their being, which manifests as a wish orb. In this version, while a wish orb contains the many memories of the wish in question, handing it over does not automatically erase the memory of it from the wisher.

When Asha and Sabino’s backs are turned, Magnifico does something to the wish. This hints that Magnifico steals wishes and plants false memories, so that the wisher is unaware that they were granted a false wish. In many cases, Magnifico grants a much simpler wish than what the wisher desired (This is hinted at earlier in “Welcome to Rosas”.). Magnifico finishes collecting wish orbs and tells everyone to come back later tonight for them to be granted. Asha wants to stay and help her father more, but he quickly dismisses her.

Later that night, when Magnifico grants a false wish for Sabino, and Asha is suspicious because she knows it is not what he actually wished for. (Sabino’s wish could still be the same one from the movie, perhaps refined to something like, “I wish to leave a lasting legacy that will inspire the next generation, and that I won’t be forgotten.” And when Magnifico grants the wish, it has been reduced to “Your wish to write a memorable song.” or something along those lines. Side note, in the movie I was totally expecting Asha to tell her grandfather that he already inspires her everyday, so his wish had in fact already been granted, so I was quite disappointed when that did not happen.)

Magnifico deflects and dodges the question, and tries to gaslight Asha into thinking she misheard or misinterpreted Sabino’s wish, and that this is why she’s not ready and should wait a while before she’s taught more magic, and basically shoos her away for the night. Asha is too frustrated at her father to dwell on the discrepancy she caught, and storms off.

🎶 This Wish

This song is reframed to be a more straightforward “I Want” song. In this version, Asha wishes to be taken seriously and supported by her father. She feels quite alone and wants someone to believe in her. “Please stop seeing me as a helpless child. …I wish someone would notice my potential.” Star descends. 

Star

Would of course, follow the scrapped shapeshifter design from the artbook. I refer to Star as male here, but I am also open to the idea of them being designed as a genderless character. I also think it would be fun if Star could rapidly switch between art styles when he’s excited (2D classic, CG, 2D sketchbook, 2D Picasso, CG mimicking stop-motion / paper puppets, etc). Maybe he can also occasionally transform into his chibi form from the movie when sneaking around.

Star is very weird, almost like an alien. He seems to have general knowledge of various things on Earth, but can never seem to get them exactly right. For example, he never transforms into a normal animal. There’s always a fantastic element; instead of turning into a normal rabbit, he turns into a jackalope. In addition to having a personality inspired by Peter Pan and Genie, he is also a less chaotic version of The Collector from The Owl House and Discord from My Little Pony. 

Star would also be incredibly powerful. Instead of only making animals and plants sing, he can also change their size, color, species in the blink of an eye (and maybe even change their art styles). He can spontaneously conjure random outfits from all time periods (including the future) for the animals to wear. He can also change the shape of the landscape; at one point, Asha could suddenly find herself in the middle of an elaborate maze that Star conjures to tease her.

🎶 “Star’s Song”

A new song inspired by Genie’s “Friend Like Me” and Maui’s “You’re Welcome”. Replaces “I'm A Star”, which I didn’t really like. (It had far too many words to poorly explain weird worldbuilding, and I wasn’t a fan of the rhythm. Though to be fair, I dunno if the worldbuilding in my version is all that strong either, lol.)

Star basically shows off all kinds of weird things he can do with various transformations and conjurings. He elaborates he comes from “someplace beyond the edge of the world” and that he’s often found Earth fascinating, but never found any reason to descend until he heard Asha. There’s something special about Asha he can’t quite put his finger on. This foreshadows the reveal. 

Valentino

Quick detour, I don’t hate Valentino. I think there is great story and humor potential, especially in regards to his deep voice provided by Alan Tudyk. Unfortunately, in my version, I felt Asha’s sidekick needed to be someone who could quickly keep up with her. At first I thought about changing him into a bird, but then I thought it would be funnier if he was a pet goldfish and Star granted him the ability to fly and breathe out of water. Fish Valentino is happy to not be cooped up in a pool, but is fond of Asha and content to stay with her instead of flying off. For the most part, he offers moral support and perhaps helps Asha make friends with the other animals, but otherwise I don’t really have many ideas for what to do with him.

The Middle Part

Admittedly, I couldn't come up with a definitive idea for this part. Basically, there needs to be a reason for Magnifico to be occupied and unaware of Star’s presence; a reason why Asha does not immediately tell him about Star. One silly idea I had is Asha immediately tries to tell him, but we turn around and find Star’s conjurings and alterations gone and everything is back to normal. Magnifico brushes this off as Asha having a weird dream and tries to tuck her into bed. Star reappears later and explains he wants to run around and have fun first before being “studied” by Magnifico. Other ideas include:

Asha thinks Star is the answer to Rosas’s and her problems. Star agrees to grant various wishes, and let Asha take the credit, in hopes that her father will notice her and finally take her seriously and teach her real magic. Star thinks this will be a great opportunity to see more of Rosas and have fun, and Asha is frustrated enough with her father being dismissive of her to agree to this.

Alternatively, Star will teach her magic. Problem is, Star’s magic is wild and unlike anything Asha has studied in her father’s books. Star is incredibly powerful and Asha has to constantly ask him to tone it down. She runs around trying to fix the chaotic results of the wishes he grants, and this attracts the attention of her father.

Alternatively, with Star’s help, Asha grants small wishes, and fixes things around town. For the most part, everyone is grateful, except for one grumpy older citizen (maybe an older version of Gabo) who remembers “the good ol’ days” and thinks Rosas needs more competent rulers than Magnifico and Asha. An argument breaks out and attracts the attention of Magnifico. Alternatively, again, this could also be replaced with someone who instead wants a selfish wish like a mountains of riches, or to be king and replace Magnifico, and Asha refuses to grant it, leading to the argument. 

🎶 “Not What I Expected”

Montage of Star and Asha granting people’s wishes. Includes lots of hijinks of Star overdoing things and Asha getting Star to undo them (For example, someone asks for a new cottage, and Star conjures a giant mansion with mismatching colors and architectural details, and upside-down rooms.). “Dahlia” and Simon help them to ease tension with the townsfolk, especially after Star reveals himself to be a non-human magical being. The seven teens can also appear here again in one-off gags. Along the way, Star and Asha experience the joy of community and begin falling in love with each other. Star slowly learns about being human and cares about the townsfolk as much as Asha does, and Asha is given the freedom to take charge and be responsible but is also surprised to find just how good it feels to finally connect with the townsfolk after being cooped up in the castle for so many years. Star and Asha both find each other fascinating and full of energy, and are glad for each other's support. 

Perhaps there’s a dance with the townsfolk. When earlier during “Welcome to Rosas”, the townsfolk were lethargic and clumsy, here they are more spirited and coordinated. Star is incredibly happy and shines bright, and his light “melts” away Magnifico’s false memory spells. The townsfolk finally wake up and are confused as they recall their true wishes and do not understand why Magnifico lied to them. Asha and Star go to confront Magnifico. 

Confronting Magnifico

Star senses something in Magnifico’s study. They find a secret room that holds the records of every wish Magnifico has ever stolen. Asha is in disbelief, but can’t ignore the fact that her father has been distant and negligent of the town for a long time. And maybe this would explain why Magnifico doesn’t teach her magic or let her do anything, because he had no intention of giving the throne to her. They find some documents about using wishes as life force, and conclude that maybe Magnifico was using everyone’s wishes to become immortal. Magnifico walks in on them.

🎶 “Everything I Do”

Replaces "This Is The Thanks I Get?!" and "Knowing What I Know Now" This new song is not quite a villain song. It’s a duet between Magnifico and Asha, of them arguing back and forth. Asha argues to her father that he’s lost sight of his responsibilities and that he only cares about staying in power; Magnifico argues that Asha is naive and could never understand that everything he does is for her benefit, and she argues back how could she when he never tells her anything. 

The reveal

Magnifico had an impossible wish: to bring Asha back from the dead. Baby Asha in fact died almost immediately after birth. Magnifico could not bear losing both his wife and his daughter, and desperately wished for Asha to live again. However, no magic can bring the dead back to life. Instead, what ended up happening is a new baby was created from Magnifico’s wish orb. In his anguish, his desire was so strong it brought a new person into being. (Side note; this does in fact mean that the original baby is still dead, so Magnifico had to secretly bury a dead baby to hide the fact that Asha is an artificial human taking her place. Perhaps a bit too morbid of an implication for a modern Disney movie, but my mind likes to go to weird places.)

At first Magnifico was happy. It was a miracle come true. But over time, the magic would run out and Asha would begin to fade. Magnifico used his own magic and tried to wish again to fuel Asha's form, but it took a toll on his health and age. This explains why his hair turned white so quickly. So eventually he began using his subjects' wishes. The more heartfelt and significant the wish is, the more powerful it is, which is why Magnifico ends up replacing the townsfolk’s wishes with simpler things and false memories that didn’t require much magic. 

As Asha grew older and became a more complex human, more wishes were needed to fuel her. This is why Magnifico refuses to teach her magic, because he is afraid that she would accidentally use up the magic that makes up her being instead of the magic that a regular sorcerer would draw from the environment around them.

Magnifico grew more desperate to draw in new citizens to get more wishes, while also exhausting more wishes from the townsfolk already living in Rosas, leading them to become lethargic. Keeping track of so many wishes and false memories to cover his tracks took a toll on Magnifico’s mental state. Also a growing bitterness that he has to live with this burden that no else could ever know, and perhaps resenting the people of Rosas for getting to live worry-free.

This is why Star answered Asha's call: she is a living wish who made a wish of her own. 

Asha's death

Magnifico and Star fight. Asha gets caught in the crossfire trying to stop it. It’s a heart-wrenching moment as glowing cracks form all over Asha’a body. She looks to her father with absolute terror in her eyes as cracks spread across her face. Her legs snap. Magnifico runs to his daughter a second too late and just fails to catch her body as she disintegrates into stardust.

Star stares in disbelief as Magnifico screams in agony: “YOU COULD HAVE LET ME SAVE HER!” He looks like he’s about to attack Star in revenge, but quickly gives up and falls to his knees.

“...Nothing matters anymore.”

There is no need for an evil book as a lazy plot device. Years of paranoia and bitterness have reached a breaking point with Asha’s death, and now Magnifico’s magic is corrupted green by his anguished heart. He transforms into a monstrous dragon-like creature (in homage to Maleficent). This creature is blind with rage, and in a great roar it bursts from the castle, causing it to collapse. The creature summons storm clouds that cover the sky and fierce green lightning that strikes the town, destroying buildings and terrorizing the townsfolk. Monster Magnifico also spreads a green fog that drains everyone’s energy. As the good king he brought joy and hope, but now as a monster he brings only despair. (Inspired by Madoka Magica, when magical girls turn into witches.)

Star attempts to stop Monster Magnifico while also shielding the townsfolk from harm. Rubble from the buildings collapse and bring the camera to black.

Beyond the Edge of the Universe

A short moment of complete darkness and silence. 

Slowly, faint sparks shine in the darkness. Asha’s voice weakly asks, “Where am I? ... Who am I?”

The faint sparks grow into a kaleidoscope of colors. Asha has been reduced to a single spark. Her consciousness floats in the chaotic void beyond time and space, where Star comes from. She quickly feels overwhelmed in this sea of color and sound. It’s a great big cacophony of voices all jumbled together, like musical instruments all playing off-key all at once.

A blue light in the distance grows brighter and closer before it reveals itself to be the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio (Disney's first wish-granter). She welcomes Asha’s consciousness. “Hello, little one.” She explains this is a space between worlds, where the emotions of humanity reach far across time and space.

“Listen carefully…” The Blue Fairy helps Asha’s consciousness tune into the voices of the void to hear the words clearly. These voices will be familiar to the audience. 

Asha’s consciousness hears the hopeful, longing voices of Snow White, Ariel, Hercules, Rapunzel, and Moana. (This can include snippets from their “I Want” songs.)

She hears the wicked laughter and the dark, selfish wishes of Maleficent, Ursula, Jafar, Scar, and Facilier. (This can include snippets from various villain songs.)

She hears the sad voices of Cinderella, Belle, Quasimodo, Tiana, and Mirabel at their lowest points. ("There's nothing left to believe in. Nothing." and other such lines.)

(Yes, this basically establishes a Disney multiverse. As I’m writing this, I think visually this could resemble the Ahtohallan scene in Frozen 2, but in space instead of in ice.)

(February EDIT: I randomly thought it was also be a neat idea if all magic in the universe originates from this realm. Pieces of magic fall into the different worlds and adapt to make their own unique rules depending on the world. For example, Cinderella's fairy godmother could come from here, as well as the drop of sunlight that grows into Rapunzel's flower. A drop of magic could fallen into a certain world, becoming a trident and transforming the local sea life into merfolk, who would then go on to build Atlantica. Little sparks seeping to random worlds could also explain certain things in otherwise non-magical worlds, such as why toys and video games come to life.)

Not many humans come here after death, but Asha is a special case, as she is literally made up of hopes and dreams. She is spontaneous life (The Blue Fairy of course has experience in this department.). Asha’s consciousness finds herself moved by all the voices of the dreamers and wishers throughout the universe, and thinks she wouldn’t mind going to sleep forever in this void. She just feels so tired. She almost fades away until she hears Star's voice, her father's voice, and the people of Rosas whose wishes made up her very being. She remembers being human. The spark of Asha’s consciousness shines and she returns to her human form. The Blue Fairy asks her, “What will you do now, little one?”

Asha hears the anguished cries of the people of Rosas in trouble, and she decides she must return to help them. The Blue Fairy smiles, and tells her, “Before you go, there’s someone who’d like to meet you.” 

She gestures behind her to reveal Queen Amaya and the baby Asha. Asha is stunned to see them, but is overcome with emotion, and Amaya embraces her.

“I am so proud of you, Asha. I wish I could have stayed and been your mother. Please, take care of your father for me.” Amaya gives her a kiss on the forehead, and the baby Asha gives her a happy giggle. The Blue Fairy tells Asha to close her eyes and think of home.”

Return to Rosas

Asha is reborn in a great big burst of light in the sky and gains a new dress made of starlight. Monster Magnifico has not noticed her and is still rampaging the kingdom. Asha sees Star has been defending the citizens, but is exhausted, and Magnifico finally manages to strike him down. Finished with Rosas, Monster Magnifico turns to the coast, intent on continuing his destruction to the mainland. 

Asha descends to help Star get up. He is surprised to see her, but her appearance reinvigorates him, and explains the situation to her. They turn to the frightened people of Rosas and promise them that they will fix this. They take hold of each other’s hand and fly to confront Monster Magnifico. 

🎶 Combined This Wish and At All Costs Reprise

Monster Magnifico does not recognize Asha, and tries to strike her, but she and Star conjure a magical shield. They dodge lightning and repel Magnifico’s fire breath. Asha begins singing, determined to reach out to her father. There is a moment where it appears Magnifico has gained the upper hand.

“Dahlia” and Simon are inspired and lead the townsfolk into the song. Asha and Star, combined with the hope of the people of Rosas, shine brighter than ever before, dissipating the fog and melting away Magnifico's monstrous form. The storm clouds are cleared away in a shower of sparks. Asha grabs her father’s unconscious body and holds him tight in her arms as she slowly descends to the ground and sings her lullaby. Magnifico is very disheveled (maybe even a little bit of fanservice with his top torn off), but is otherwise alright. He soon comes to. 

"...Amaya? ... ASHA!" Magnifico is in disbelief, but overjoyed to see his daughter alive and well. He embraces her and bursts into tears. “I thought I lost you! I thought you were gone!”

"I was. I disappeared beyond the edge of the universe. But I came back!"

Rebuilding Rosas

They turn to the townsfolk. Asha gives a speech about how not every wish should be granted, but that does not mean they’re not worth pursuing. It just requires careful consideration, and being open to finding a something new. (Someone with better writing skills please step in to write this speech without making it too sappy.)

Magnifico is greatly ashamed of the harm he has caused and steps down as king. Asha understands if the townsfolk do not want to see them anymore, but promises to do what she can to help them rebuild, and to help them pursue their dreams in an ethical manner. Star concurs. The townsfolk, having been touched by her earnestness and genuine emotions from when she helped grant their smaller wishes, embrace her with open arms and express that they would love if she remains their ruler. They are hesitant to forgive Magnifico, but think it's for the best that he be allowed to stay with his daughter. 

Cut to some time later, and there is scaffolding all throughout town and the castle. Star and Asha have been using their magic to help with the rebuilding, with mixed results. Progress has been slow, but the people are hopeful. Asha and Star hold daily consultations with the people who were granted false wishes. Some are easy to grant, while others Asha advises that they can pursue on their own. (The girl who wished to fly meeting "Peter Pan" can be re-used here. I honestly thought that was a clever bit. While she could easily fly with magic, I like that the movie implies she'll find more meaning in learning to build a flying machine.)

Asha visits the original baby Asha’s grave. She renames herself. Perhaps to something like Stella? “I loved being Asha, but now I think it’s time I return your name back to you. Thanks for the loan.” She conjures some flowers for her and Amaya's grave, and goes to join the celebration.

🎶 “Finale Party Song”

Asha/Stella, Star, the townsfolk, and even Magnifico join in on the grand finale. Asha/Stella and Star kiss, and Hidden Mickey fireworks light up the sky.

End Credits

While the end credits were cute, I would revise them to include characters from the missing movies (the package films, The Rescuers, Black Cauldron, Meet the Robinsons, etc.). I would also change some of the character selections (For example, I'd have the three kittens represent The Aristocats, instead of just Marie by herself. It always annoys me to no end when they market Marie by herself. I'd also swap out Yokai/Professor Callahan with Baymax. What an odd decision to have Yokai of all characters represent BH6.). And also have some of the characters be animated instead of just still images. (I liked for Cinderella's credit they had a trail of sparkles surround her, but it would have been even better to actually see her transform from her ripped dress to the ballgown.)

Closing notes

There are a lot of things in my version that could use some more polishing, like the build-up to Magnifico's reveal about Asha. There should be at least one scene that foreshadows that the times when Magnifico tucks Asha into bed is when he magically absorbs the wishes into her to fuel her.

In addition to the whole wish theme, I thought it would be neat to also include themes of legacy, to tie in to Disney's 100 Anniversary. Disney Animation has come a long way, but is still capable of making big missteps. With many of the old talent gone, it's understandable that passing the torch to the next generation would make anyone nervous, but despite it all, I do have faith that Disney Animation can make a comeback. They've been through low points before; we just have to wait and see.

[exquisite-peculiarity]

Update on the Fur Affinity hack!

For those who don't know, Fur Affinity is a furry site that hosts furry art, writing, photos, etc. It's an important and unique community beloved by its userbase. The person who founded and ran the site, Dragoneer, passed away 8/6/24. His friends and family are working together, with the support of the community, to keep the site up and running. They have a gofundme campaign to cover site expenses and the debt of his estate to keep the site from getting sold off as an asset. So far, it is looking bright. Unfortunately, this week, bad actors hijacked the site. They didn't break into the private info, but redirected traffic and communications to other places, including Kiwifarms (alt right site) who promptly released a statement that they weren't involved, and the hijack was at the expense of both websites. Fortunately for everyone, it's been resolved, and the site is safe to use again.

Here's the statement from their discord:

"Good Afternoon!

Yesterday, after meeting for several hours with Network Solutions (our domain registrar), they finally agreed to our demands to lock our account and revert changes made to our domain name’s NAMESERVER configuration. This lock also prevents anyone from signing in and making further changes. A fraud investigation has been launched on their part, and upon conclusion, our account will be fully released to us and we will receive more information on how this hijacking occurred. Our domain is directing traffic correctly.

While the bad actor was in control of our domain between Tuesday, August 20th at 12:47AM ET and Wednesday, August 21st at 2:28PM ET, they redirected our traffic to other websites and they set up an email server to receive any emails that were sent to any of our @furaffinity.net accounts. If you sent any emails to our @furaffinity.net accounts during that time, then the bad actor has those emails, we did not receive them, and you should act appropriately to secure and protect your information. Furthermore, any emails sent from @furaffinity.net during that time would have been sent by the bad actor and should not be trusted. The bad actor never had access to our actual email accounts, any previous emails, nor data we have previously received.

It is important to stress that the Fur Affinity web server itself was never compromised, and the bad actor never had access to any private information therein such as our user and server data (It's as if someone stole your home address and had your mail and visitors routed somewhere else. Your house and everything inside is fine, only the address and incoming/outgoing mail were affected). **As a precautionary measure during the incident, we invalidated all current login sessions and you will need to log back into your account.**

**✨🌟🎉 FUR AFFINITY IS NOW ONLINE AND MAY BE ACCESSED SAFELY! 🎉🌟✨**

Furthermore, as of last night (August 21st at 9:53PM ET), we have regained access to our Twitter account, and with the help of Whanos (@KernelJunkie), reclaimed our username (@FurAffinity). And as of this morning (August 22nd at 10:45AM ET), we also secured Dragoneer's personal Twitter account.

We have also been made aware of various sources claiming to have identified the bad actor responsible for this attack. We have no way to verify that these accusations are accurate, but will continue to share all information with the FBI. With that said, we want to remind everyone that we have a zero-tolerance policy toward harassment, no matter the circumstances. Recently, there have been instances where speculation has led to individuals being harassed, even if they have no proven connection to the incident.

It is important to note that Fur Affinity, with direct insight into the situation, has not conducted its own investigation. We are leaving that responsibility to law enforcement. Speculation only spreads misinformation and causes harm, so please be cautious about what you share or believe online.

We kindly urge everyone to avoid engaging in further speculation or harassment. It is the role of law enforcement to determine the facts and make decisions, not ours.

Finally, we want to extend our deepest gratitude to all of you for your unwavering support during this incredibly difficult time. Your kindness, patience, and understanding have meant the world to us as we've navigated these challenges together. We are committed to continuing to foster a creative and welcoming environment for all, and it is your strength and solidarity that make our community truly special. Thank you for standing with us.

Please note FA might suffer from the "hug of death" - basically, everyone interacting with it at once causes it to run slowly. (: It's not broken, just overwhelmed by your support!! "

In my opinion, the people who are running the site at this time are doing a good job with a really terrible situation.

We love and protect tumblr, as a special and queer community that is unique in it's function. Fur Affinity is important in the same way. It is a safe space for both nsfw and sfw queer expression, and that's something important to protect. ♥️

[apocalyp-tech-a]

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW 🌈 (TechxReader)

Hello! This is my Bad Batch XReader Exchange gift for @deezlees for the @cloneficgiftexchange run by @ghostofskywalker!!! 💜

Prompts: Learning to ride a horse || Going on a vacation together || His first time at a history museum || Confident reader persona

Words: 2500

Warnings: None except flirtation maybe

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55173340

A/N: Having background in public history and having already written Tech at museums, this was a perfect matching!!! Hope you enjoy it! 🤓 And thank you to @cloneficgiftexchange for running it!

SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW 🌈 (Tech X Reader)

The sun shone through the early morning commute of speeders and ships traversing Coruscant's sky, its pale blue color muted by smog that even the planet's filtering system could not alleviate. Towering skyscrapers of grays in every hue passed by as you navigated to the Grand Army of the Republic's base.

Upon pulling up in your speeder, a bright millaflower red Mustang XD38, you saw your future passenger salute you by casually flicking three fingers from his brow. You brought the speeder to a stop and flirted. "Hey good looking. Looking for a ride?"

"That depends," he said as he hopped into the passenger side with one dexterous and confident move.

"Depends on what, Tech?" You raised an eyebrow at him.

"On if I can be the driver." He adjusted his goggles hopefully.

"Can I pilot the Marauder?"

"No."

"Then you can be my CO-pilot. Just remember, I am the Captain here." You winked at him playfully.

You revved up the engine, but it wasn't loud enough to cover Tech's large sigh of frustration. You chuckled to yourself proudly before shooting him a grinning glance. "Aw, don't be like that, maybe you can drive back."

"That is exactly what you said on our previous two outings." Tech held up a pointed finger in a very casual, yet disgruntled manner.

"Yes. Hence the word "maybe."

Tech's propensity for arguing about who was driving dissipated as the museum came into view. His eyes were wide with excitement, though you knew he was trying to keep that emotion at bay. You had seen him go on one of his excited know-it-all rants before. You found them amusing, endearing, and most of all impressive. He was the smartest person you knew, whether it was from Kaminoan meddling or not, didn't matter.  You loved listening to him, and he loved to talk. And you didn't just like listening to him because of the pleasing sound of his voice and looks, but because he actually did talk about things that were interesting. 

After parking, you both walked to the museum's main entrance. Tech adjusted his goggles as his head tilted back to take in the much larger than necessary doors adorned by a full arch of sculpted marble, stone, mythological figures from all over the galaxy.

"Shall we?" You suggested with a smile.

Tech nodded in the affirmative. "After you, Madame." Tech took note of the strange face you gave him upon being called 'Madame.' Perhaps it was a little old fashioned, but he still had not figured out what else he could use in place of your name without being too forward or disrespectful. Sometimes you called him 'Hot Shot' or 'Ace' which were exceedingly better than the names his brothers called him.  

As for you, his brothers were not without suggestions. Crosshair suggested 'Doll,' Hunter suggested 'Sweetheart,' Echo suggested 'Dearest,' and Wrecker suggested 'Booboo-tooka.'  

None of those monikers were quite sufficient, however, but Tech knew a solution would eventually present itself.

Since you had already purchased tickets as a surprise for him since he had not only repaired, but upgraded and heavily modified the repulsor system for your speeder, you were able to acquire visitor badges quickly and began your mosey through the museum.

With twenty levels, there was no way you could see everything in one day let alone a few hours, but you knew Tech had marked out an itinerary on his datapad to follow at your suggestion. You knew he only had so much leave to see what most piqued his interest. Even though he wanted to see everything, you finally convinced him to whittle it down to four floors.

"Let's start with the Paleolithic and Neolithic," he said with a tweak of his goggles. He started walking toward the lifts as if he had been there before, but you knew he had simply memorized the entire museum's layout.

"Sounds good to me," you said walking beside him. As you stood in the lift, you tilted your head up to study his profile as he continued to look down at his datapad. You wanted to blame the movement of the lift tube for the slight buckling in your knees, but you knew it was all due to his handsomeness. 

Your heart pitter-pattered the moment you had seen him at 79s three months ago. You weren't one to go pick up guys at bars, but there was something unique and enticing about him. You thought little of it or him, figuring to never see him again until he came into your electronics shop in search of a capacitor.  

Apparently your knowledge of computers made an impression because he came in the next day looking for a hyper-regulator. With fate on your side, you asked if he wanted to meet you for a drink and after some adorable awkwardness, he agreed.

The lift doors slid open and you stepped into a carefully curated world of wood and stone. Dioramas with the first humans, the first Trandoshans, the first Rodians, Twi'leks, and Pantorans were set up along one corridor.  

"It is fascinating, the similarities between different species as pertains to the genesis and evolution of technology," Tech marveled as you came to the exhibit of like tools from all over the galaxy. "The Twi'lek arrowhead is quite similar to the Devaronian and Human. The same goes for ax-heads and needles. But once you get to items like beads and pottery vessels, you see the cultural trajectory lose conformity and develop based on materials available by individual local environment and customs."

"I had never really thought about it like that. I'm used to technology and more recent history I guess."  You shrugged.

"Indeed. One can hardly expect the modern mind to memorize all of the information whether historical or technological. Though I do try."

"You have some 'exceptional' advantages that the rest of us do not," you teased. You had not known him three rotations when he went on a detailed explanation of he and his brothers' 'defects' which did not sound like defects at all to you. Then he continued to explain how those traits made them more deviant than defective. You certainly understood that side of him as he often met with you when he should have been attending to GAR duties.

Satisfied with your visit to the 'stone' ages, you next traveled through time and to the fifth floor to the rise of cities and nation states.  

Tech stared at the first exhibit with fascination.  "The agricultural revolution varied by planet. Those that did not have crops that could be mass produced could only sustain small settlements, whereas those with large crops could maintain large cities that grew exponentially into kingdoms and nations."

"And wars and starvation."

"Yes," Tech turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern at your statement. Did you not find history as fascinating as he did? He knew your views on the war and cloning. He dared not ask, but all he could do was agree with you.

When Tech continued to stare at you, you realized maybe you had gone too far and put a damper on an outing that was supposed to be fun. "I'm sorry, Tech. I didn't mean to rain on your parade."

He adjusted his goggles thoughtfully. "I have seen plenty of rain on Kamino," he said understandingly. "You need not apologize. That is an unfortunately correct assessment of civilization. With growth and progress comes conflict and suffering. The two seem to go hand in hand, but I think rather to have faith that intelligence and good intentions have the advantage."

"In that case, it's almost as if sentient life is collectively "defective." You smiled, grateful for his understanding and wisdom. For being a clone maybe a third your age, if that, you can not but admire his calm and collected approach to situations and problems. The only thing he seemed to ever be nervous around is you, but that was understandable because you knew the clone troopers didn't exactly get lessons in romance in the GAR.

Tech merely pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose with a knowing smile. He was never quite sure how to take your sarcasm, probably because he was self aware of his own and that of his brothers, Crosshair in particular. But the affectionate twinkle in your eyes and gentle flourish of your smile made his heart beat a little faster and the tips of his ears feel a little warmer.

He had not expected to become interested in a female. He was engineered to be a soldier, nothing more. Yet, you made him feel like he was more than that, that he wanted more even. He found himself returning to your shop even though he really did not need to.

And yet he did 'need' to.

Tech found himself smiling back at you. "Indeed. I must apologize. We have been to two floors of exhibits that I wanted to see. Is there something you would like to see?"

"No, Tech. This was all for you."

"I should very much like to learn about what interests you."

"Well, there is an atrium level. Gardens and ruins from other worlds. I remember being taken with the one from Naboo when I was a child." You felt a little weird saying that considering Tech was technically the same age as you were at the time. "You can actually sit there and relax. Or meditate like a Jedi." You shrugged.

"I would very much like that."

After browsing the garden exhibits of Kashyyyk, Chandrila, Selonia, and Old Coruscant, you settled in the Naboo section. A small waterfall splashed down a rock cliff before flowing through a makeshift river that encapsulated the area and then recycled back to the top of the waterfall. Lush green grass spread across one half before melding with a more tree and moss covered rocky area that housed some Gungan head statues. But what really amazed you not only as a child, but as an adult as well, were the guarlara statues that guarded the Naboo area.  

Tech studied you as you gazed upon the statues, content to witness your own fixation with something in the museum since you put up with his. "The guarlara, a quadrupedal mammal native to Naboo, having evolved the physical trait of speed on that planet's grassy plains and also a long mane of hair. Used as transportation before the speeder was invented and now only used for official royal business such as coronations."

"Sadly, I don't think I'll ever get a chance to ride one."

"No. They are reserved for royalty," Tech said a little too bluntly. But you knew he didn't mean anything by it and that he for the most part sympathized with you.

"Indeed," you echoed a word he had a habit of saying. "Let's sit over on that fancy stone bench. My feet are a little sore from all of the walking we've done."

"Indeed," Tech said in reply with a grin. He forgot you were probably not used to walking five or ten klicks or more as he was.

You both sat in silence as the sound of the waterfall drowned out the low chatter of the museum. You took extra satisfaction because Tech is sitting right next to you, so close that your arms and legs were touching.  

You knew he was a little nervous because he continued to look down at his datapad rather than enjoy the soothing sound of the waterfall, but maybe water just wasn't his thing.

“Hey Ace. What cycle are we heading for next?”

There it was. 'Ace.' One of your pet names for him. He wanted so badly to find one for you as well, but he wanted a special name, not the usual. He knew you liked driving and piloting as he did, but Ace could not work for both of you. He knew you also liked guarlaras, but there were not many equus related monikers that seemed suitable. Guarlara itself did not roll off the tongue very well. Pony was not very romantic. And mare simply sounded unsuitable.

Tech's eyes went from studying his datapad to studying the floor. He was disappointed that he could not find an ideal solution to this very simple quandary.

He now turned to you, studying your delicate features, so content to be in your favorite part of the museum, yet you were so colorful as well, not like anyone he had ever met before. When you turned to him, he took to studying the sparkle in your eyes, that seemed to represent everything he admired about you.

“What is it?” you asked, noticing Tech staring at you strangely.

He took your hand in his. "I was simply thinking about what an extraordinarily colorful woman you are. You remind me of the rainbows on Kamino. They were always so vibrant after a storm. And you are a vibrant beacon after all of the missions we go on. You are like a rainbow to me, albeit in adult human female form."

“Awwww...” You squeeze his hand and place your other hand over your heart. "I think that might be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Tech could not help the large smile that spread across his face. “Then it is settled, Rainbow.”

You could not stifle the huge goofy smile that was spread across your face, beaming with happiness at Tech, whose eyes reflected your contentment. “You know, Ace, I think you might have earned the title of Captain.”

“That is not possible. Hunter is our Sergeant and first in line for that- Oh. You are referring to your speeder. You are going to let me pilot it?” Tech asked with a hopeful tweak of his goggles.

You laughed at him. “Come on, Captain Tech. Let's finish out the rest of the museum, then you can take me for ride.” The sly wink you gave him gave you exactly the fumbling reaction you desired.

Tech pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose nervously and cleared his throat. “Yes. I shall take you for a ride in your speeder.”

After you were all done at the museum, you took note of Tech's excitement to sit on the pilot side of your speeder while you took the seat he had earlier.  Before you knew it, you were speeding away from the museum, up into the sky at a breakneck, but controlled speed, but it didn't matter, you knew he was a skilled pilot, and you trusted him with your life, and your heart.

Tech looked over at you, a huge smile spread across your face as the speeder breezed through the bright, neon signs and beaming lights of the other vehicles in the skylanes and shining through the windows of the skyscrapers.  All of the colors of the Coruscant evening did not compare to the lovely colors of you, his own personal Rainbow.

[acerathia]

Grave Robbery || K. Bakugou

Summary:

What's the worst that could happen in a graveyard? Ask again after meeting a seasoned Pro-Hero.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Pro-Hero! Bakugou Katsuki / GN!Reader

Tags/CW:

no actual grave robbery, i promise. meet ugly, banter, pining, aged-up characters

Note:

Happy Halloween!! Inspired by actual people putting recipes on their gravestones <3

You have to admit, you don’t have a legitimate reason to be here, to be walking along the rows of gravestones, dust collecting due to the lack of visitors. But despite having no one to visit, you do have a very specific objective in your mind, one that explains your presence in this cemetery.

And the target of your search doesn’t take long to be found. You perk up upon laying your gaze on the exact sort of inscription you have been looking for and you step closer to decipher the words next to the corresponding numbers. Perfect.

A recipe for a cheesecake.

For a moment you just read the recipe and try to understand its instructions rather than just skim the most important details. After you make sure you’re understanding this properly, you pull out your phone and take a picture of the stone, of course including the name of the person. That way you can honor them properly.

With the recipe secured, you continue your stroll through the row, walking past a couple of lone people visiting their friends and family. On your walk, you almost bump into a blond man as he seems to be almost filling the whole narrow way with his build. But you manage to dodge before any contact happens, and he barely shoots you a glance. So it seems you won’t be causing any problems today.

On the way out you spot a couple more potential gravestones, but as you only take one recipe per visit, out of respect, because you want to take your time to enjoy their respective recipe. So you only end up greeting the dead as you pass, memorizing the space they occupy, keen on visiting on a later date.

With these future meetings, you leave the graveyard, looking forward to trying this newly acquired recipe. Hoping that you’re able to manage the sweet treat like it’s supposed to be, as close to the original as possible with only the dead guiding you.

So it took you a couple of weeks to return, because you needed the time to perfect the cheesecake, and of course to avoid any suspicion, even if you’re technically not doing anything illegal. But these weeks of absence result in your memory of the placements of the potential graves being a blur.

With no other solution to your memory loss, you decide to start walking the first couple of rows down. That is until you encounter the blond once again and you stop in your tracks, considering skipping that row. You don’t mind getting recognized, but you’d like to avoid being potentially kicked out.

But it’s too late to turn back now, as his red gaze has focused on your face, a scowl etching itself into his features. He looks more annoyed than angry, so maybe you could avoid confrontation. Even if he does seem familiar for some reason, but honestly you avoid looking at him directly, trying to make him think you’re not worth the trouble, and because he looks like he’s about to reprimand you for something. For what exactly, you don’t know.

Your only choice in this situation is to just keep walking, so you do, barely able to dodge his overtowering figure once again. Without looking back, you just keep walking until you’re at the end of the row to switch to the next one.

Instead of actually walking into the next one, you skip a couple to get some distance between you two. And luck is on your side as you discover a recipe in that exact row. Repeating the actions of last time, you take a picture with a small smile on your face while uttering a thank you, memorizing their name and putting it next to the others.

When you’re done with collecting the recipe, you stay a couple more minutes at the grave, honestly just talking a bit about your day, trying to entertain the ones long gone, the lonely ones. It helps staying unavoided of course, because you know for sure that you don’t plan on bumping into him again.

But like most things you want or plan out, it doesn’t work out. The next time you visit the graveyard, your hope to not see him gets crushed brutally the moment you spot his tall, broad figure. And it seems like he also spotted you, like a weird person watching the entrance of the place. With him seeing you, you can’t just leave, turn around and walk away.

So, with a sigh, you don’t resist your bleak fate and step into the open space to walk down the narrow path in the middle. At random you decide to enter a row, one farther away from him than it was the last time. And maybe this is exactly your mistake, because even if you hoped he wouldn’t notice you being in a different row, you should know that nothing works out for you.

Once again you’re walking down a row, looking for your personal treasure in this space when you bump into something. Or someone. It seems like you haven’t paid any attention to your way, so focused on the engraved stones and their messages.

The apology on your tongue dies immediately when you make eye contact with the person in front of you, the one you’ve been dreading, trying so hard to avoid. Red eyes flame into yours, almost paralyzing every thought in your brain, and when the sun hits his face, letting his hair glow golden under the sun, his eyes sparkle like small explosions, you can’t help but think that he might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever met.

That is until a snarl appears on his lips, eyebrows pointing downward.

“What the fuck are you doing, creep?” he asks with a deep voice, almost a growl vibrating deep in your bones.

You gasp and put your hand dramatically against your chest. How dare he accuse you of being a creep!

You want to retort something, but it hits you like an explosion. You finally remember why he seems so familiar to you, you know him, hell, the whole country knows him.

Pro-Hero Dynamight.

And with this realization, you know that you’re fucked. He noticed you lurking around and no matter what you do or say, you won’t be able to get out of it that easily. Doesn’t mean you won’t at least try.

“Listen, Sir, this is a graveyard. I think you know exactly what I’m doing,” you deflect, softening your voice to a melancholic tone, all while keeping your answer open. Let him interpret whatever he wants, maybe you can get out of this.

He clicks his tongue, annoyance clear in his impatience. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re not even in the same row as the last time you’ve been here. Fucking creepy.”

Fuck. Well, there goes your cover. So nobody can blame you when your lips pull up in something similar to a snarl. “Aren’t you the creep? Memorizing the places I go to? Weird, not gonna lie. And maybe, just maybe, asshole, not everyone has the perfect memory or whatever.”

This made him angry, his face contorts in a snarl of his own. Your eyes glance around and you spot the way he flexes his hands, probably trying to restrain himself from grabbing you by the collar due to your sheer audacity. And you do your best to ignore the way his muscles move underneath his shirt, radiating his sheer might in a single, simple movement.

He takes a deep breath and his snarl slightly slips off as he’s probably thinking happy thoughts, or whatever they taught him in therapy.

"Listen you little shit. I've seen you at least three times in a row, just doing fuck knows what. And considering the fucking amount you've been here and how regular you must have visited this place, there’s no fucking way you're lost," he grits between his teeth, showcasing his logical thinking, and you can’t help but think how sexy his brain is.

"So you better tell me the truth, or imma get you on watch or some stupid shit."

For a moment you both just stare at each other. You don't know who's trying to break who with this intense battle of eye contact, but you do notice how pretty his eyes are, all evening sun, setting behind these gold lashes. It makes you want to sink deeper into them, and you honestly can't risk that right now, so you back away, turn your face away.

You hold up your hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I'm going to tell you the shit I'm up to. But you gotta follow me first," you surrender with a cock of your head.

The only acknowledgement you're getting is a grunt and a single nod. So with that you continue walking down the row, almost feeling his breath down your neck.

And for a moment you understand what made Mary Shelley act that way in a graveyard…

You shake your head to get rid of the thought of his arms caging you in, of him leaning in, his gaze seeing the depth of your soul with its edge.

With a breath you try to focus on the inscriptions you walk by, and it takes you a couple to finally stop in front of one that fits your bill. You nod your head towards it.

"Look, see what's on that stone? Beside the usual? A recipe. It's either a specialty of that person, or a family recipe. Either way, I come looking for them…" you explain, eyes locked on the gravestone in front of you, reading the name of that person.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Aren't there like a fuck ton of recipes online?" he asks with a grumble, even if his suspicion only seems to ebb away slowly.

You humm, agreeing with him. "That’s true. But why would these people put so much effort into making sure these recipes are put onto their gravestones? I'd like to think they wanted to share one last thing with the world, even if they're gone," you answer slowly, putting your thoughts into coherent words ", so maybe I'm honoring their memory like that, even if I don't know them…"

For a moment you both are silent, and you turn around, trying to see if your explanation has cleared something up. Only to see him look at the gravestone, face calm, jaw slack, eyes filled with some sort of unexplainable melancholy. And you wish you could always see him like this, soft, vulnerable.

But he seems to feel your stare on him, as his gaze flits to you, all softness put back behind a grinding jaw, crossed arms.

"Tch, I guess. But I don't fucking think that you're able to honor them properly. You don't seem like you can even hold a fucking fruit knife right," he grunts, his eyes wandering all over your face.

And you grin slightly, even if your face feels a bit too hot under his scorching eyes. "Well, practice makes perfect?"

He rolls his eyes. "Someone gotta show you how this stuff is properly done."

"Oh! You want to come over? Damn, take me out on a date fi- ah!" you stumble slightly as he softly bumps his shoulder into yours.

"Don't talk shit, weirdo… I can rent a kitchen, or whatever."

You immediately shake your head. "No! I mean, it's fine. You can come over, I guess… Whatever… Uhm, do you mind me giving you my number? Only to make the plans, of course, nothing else!"

He snorts and hands you his phone, and you type your number into the new contact, putting your name in, in hope to avoid getting one of the nicknames he’s infamous for. You hand it back, but he immediately changes the name and no matter how far you crane your neck, you cannot see what he did, even if he probably changed your name to something stupid.

So you have no choice but to give up, to resign yourself to living forever with the name he just gave you. You just hope it’s something normal, not like ‘Graveyard Robber’ or anything similar.

Well, a small sacrifice considering Bakugou, the pro-hero has your number. And that you both are planning a cooking date, well date to you, it's probably just some normal, free day for him. But that doesn't mean…

No, you have to stop giving yourself hope. And yet you can't help but grin to yourself the moment he sends you a message, such a dry text you almost choke trying to converse with him over text. Still, talking with him fills you with some sense of anticipation and excitement, happiness. You're absolutely looking forward to spending some time with him, cooking one of your discoveries. And you conjure the names of these people, and you thank them with a spark in your heart, hoping they catch your gratitude.

[squipdop]

HIIIII CAN I ASK ABOUT THE SIX YEARS LATER AU???

Howd they bring up the junior scouts idea to max??? Was he like Whatever sure or super tsundere or surprisingly emotional that they wanted him back after he aged out?? Did anyone else come back or do special day-long visits like how schools bring in visitors? What does max think of the new kids? They all look so cool i love Max's hair!!!!

HI HI HELLO YES OFC!!! :33

Okay so. I call it the '6 years later' AU but technically i have Stuff Planned for all the time that passed between now and then too, so this'll be a bit longer, sorry!!

Max joining the counselor team was actually kind of a natural/gradual development?? Basically, since I can't make CC content that isn't found family Max has a shit home life, and, even if he hates to admit it at first, the three months of summer camp become his bright spot each year. David and Gwen catch on to that, but there isn't much they can do to help outside of camp - until one day Max (age 13/14ish) shows up on Gwen's doorstep because he ran away from home, 'since his parents won't care either way'. While he does return home after hiding out at Gwen's place for a weekend, this kind of kicks off a pattern of Max running away sporadically, to Gwen's, later David's, or his friends places. I could go into more detail here but. this is already long. oop.

ANYWAYS. So with Max spending basically all the time he can away from home and the summers at camp, once he ages out there's. A Bit of panic starting in him once summer gets closer again, because his Safe Place seems inaccessible, and two of his OTHER options, especially for longer stays away from home, would also be unavailable. Gwen and David notice this (it manifests in Max staying over More but Angrier) and try to find a solution. Gwen proposes the Jr Counselor idea. They introduce the idea to Max by kinda implying that workload around camp is a lot, and it'd really hurt to miss one of their most experienced campers, but... maybe, if he worked there too (well, interned. basically unpaid. but! no camp tuition!) he could help them? so they basically give Max a way to say yes without admitting that he's the one who needs camp the most. He does insult the whole thing ofc, and says like he's just doing it because he knows camp would burn down without him there ("actually, most of the fires we had were started by you...?" "shut it, david") but secretly he's really really happy. He might even thank them later that evening. Quietly. Before complaining about it preemptively. <3

WAH THATS ALREADY SUCH A WALL OF TEXT ok ill hurry up w the rest:

While most of the other campers had some rotations over the years, I don't have conk rete plans for most of them - Nikki and Neil are still Max' gang, and returned for multiple summers, if not all. This year though, Neil is busy with college prep, and Nikki is spending the summer at home because of family crisis. They still video call a lot, they're still The Gang. I have sketched designs for them, but I'm not quite happy yet.

Max at first doesn't take his role seriously, because he's basically just Back For Another Summer, but pretty quickly realises Gwen and David DO have expectations, and DO give him responsibilities. He takes a while to come around on his new relationship to the younger kids, and especially one of the youngest kids takes a liking to him, a very anxious young girl, which annoys him at first, but... well. It's a whole ~character arc~ for Max waiting to happen tbh.

OK THANK YOU IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR IM SORRY ITS SO LONG. i wasnt lying when i said i have So Many Thoughts about this. ANYWAYS as thank u for getting this far heres a doodle of Max putting up his hair. :3c

[unreadpoppy]

down by the river - Chapter 9

Raphael x Warlock!Tav

Read on AO3

Chapter 8

A/N: Okay we jumping cause we gotta move this story along. Also shout out to @sky-kiss for screen shotting the Mol scene for me, it was of great help! Also, many parts of the dialogues are taken from the game but modified to fit the story better.

After Halsin told the group that they needed to go to Moonrise Towers, Tav gathered everyone to decide on which way they should go: through the Underdark or the Mountain Pass. 

Lae’zel argued in favor of the latter, saying that there was a githyankyi crechè in the area and they would have to offer her cleansing. Shadowheart, however, favored the Underdark, considering that it would be a more discreet route. 

“I believe we could go through both.” Tav finally spoke. All eyes turned towards her. “We have means of exploring both regions, and then we determine which way is better.” 

‘And it would stop the two of them from bickering.’ Tav thought to herself. She turned towards the gith warrior. “We’ll go to the Mountain Pass first, see that the crechè gives us a solution.”

Lae’zel nodded and walked away, probably to polish her sword some more. The others left as well, while Tav kept looking at the map. 

“The shadow cursed lands.” Tav whispered to herself. As she passed her finger on where the name was written on the map, she felt the scar on her collarbone sting, causing her to hiss. 

“Have you ever been there?” Shadowheart asked, appearing next to Tav. 

“Why you ask?”

She pointed with her chin towards the paper.  “Just the way you look at the map. Seems like you’ve got some history there.” 

Tav shook her head. “I’ve never been there, no, but Raphael has a few contracts there.” She turned towards the cleric. “I can’t help but wonder what has happened to them - the debtors.” 

She made a motion to move away, saying “Now, if you’ve got nothing more to ask, I’ll get ready for bed.” 

“Actually, there is something else I’d like to know.” Shadowheart said. “We know Mizora sent Wyll to hunt after devils and demons alike, but what type of jobs did Raphael ever sent you on?”

Tav shrugged. “All sorts of things. Sometimes it was to kill someone who wronged him, or gather information. Other times, accompany him to an event, entertain a guest.” 

Playing music when he was bored, helping him with his compositions were also part of the list, although Tav wouldn’t say that out loud. “If there was something that needed to be done, I’d do it, although, since he acquired another warlock, things got a bit easier on my side.” She looked away, for a moment. “One thing is true, however. Raphael would never ask me to do something he knew I couldn’t do.”

Shadowheart nodded.  “When you put it like that, he doesn’t seem that bad.”

“Well, he’s definitely better than other masters that I have served.” Tav chuckled to herself. “It is getting late. We should go sleep, tomorrow will be a long day.” She said and moved towards her bedroll. 

That night, the dream visitor met her again, giving her warnings for the future, while telling her to embrace her potential. Tav had no inclinations of becoming ilithid, but she still needed his protection, and so, she told him she’d think about it. 

As their journey continued, Tav would keep listening to the dream visitor’s interference, but she tried to ignore it. She already had one devil telling her what to do - she didn’t need another otherworldly being bothering her as well. 

…

“Your move, Mol.” She heard him before she saw him. Of course Raphael would be at Last Light Inn, but playing lanceboard with a child was not the sight Tav expected to see. 

“You trapped me.” Mol said. “I didn’t even want to take this one.” 

“Calishmen rules, dear. The first piece touched is the first piece moved.” He explained. For a moment, Tav was transported to a memory that played much like this one. When he taught  her how to play the game, and how frustrated she had been. 

‘This doesn’t make any sense.’ She groaned. ‘I’m gonna end up losing this knight.’

‘Then make a useful sacrifice.’ He guided her. ‘Guard your Mystra or come for my Cyriq.’

Tav was snapped out of the memory when Mol asked her “Say, do you play Lanceboard by any chance? It’s my first time playing.” 

She raised her brow at the girl, easily detecting the lie. “Put pressure on him. Attack the pieces in front of his king.”  

Mol did as you say, moving the pieces around. 

“My, the Theskan Double Counter - Gambit. Vicious. Exactly what I would have done.” 

The girl soon beat Raphael. “How’s that for Calimshen rules?”

“Brava! Lovely work.” Raphael praised the girl. “I see I was right to make you the offer I did. You will consider it, won’t you?” He asked Mol, who didn’t say anything as she walked away. 

Raphael turned towards the group.“The Thasken move was inspired. I see I have taught you well.” He then looked at Mol speaking with the other tiefling children. “What a lovely specimen she is. A blushing apple, ready to be plucked.”

“I know he’s your boss, but please, let me smack this creep.” Karlach whispered. 

Tav ignored her, crossing her arms and raising a brow. “You’re offering deals to kids now? I thought you loathed chattering children.”

“I can make exceptions, from time to time. But don’t you worry about Mol - it goes without saying she still has the unconditional freedom to choose the only option she has left.” He chuckled. “Besides, I do enjoy being in this neighborhood again. It has such a history of abject tragedy.” He focused his gaze on Tav. “And as you well know, tragedy is my bread and bloody butter.”

Raphael waved his hand, dismissing the subject. “But enough about my lesser pursuits. Why bother with trifles when I’m in the illustrious presence of my very favorite client.” He bowed as he said that, making Tav suck in a breath. “It is good to see you again, O apple of my eye. I’d ask you if you’ve made any progress with your little problem, but the tell-tale twitching of your eye is answer enough.” 

“Raphael.” She greeted him. “Should I consider it a coincidence to find you here?”

He smiled. “My dear, nothing is a coincidence. Mortals trifle themselves with free will, as if their betters have not moulded every potential path ahead.” Tav cleared her throat at that. Raphael chuckled. “No offense meant, of course. I’m sure everyone in Last Light thinks they could have changed things.” 

“They’re not the only ones ripe for temptation. As you well know, Tav, my last contract here fed me for decades.”

“You were here before?” Wyll asked. “Why?”

“Family troubles. Not my family, of course.” He shot Tav a knowing look, and she gave a small nod, imperceptible to the others. “I never surrender knowledge for free, but one good turn deserves another, does it not? To repay you, for all the souls you sent my way, I offer you a glimpse of the truth.” 

The devil then spoke of Ketheric Thorm, how his army had been massacred, and even proposing more knowledge in a future contract. Tav squinted her eyes at that - although Raphael shared most of his plans with her, she knew there was something that he was hiding. 

When he was done talking, she made a move to leave but he continued. “Before you leave, I sense there’s something your friend wants to ask me.” He looked at Astarion. 

“I do. I have a proposal for you.” The elf spoke up. “My old- well, a long time ago, someone carved some runes into my back. I’d rather like to know what they say.” 

As Raphael considered his words, Tav turned towards the rogue. “Scars? What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t told them? And you’ve kept your clothes on this whole time? How unlike you.” Raphael smirked. “Why not let them see? Don’t be shy.” 

“Raphael, don’t-” Tav tried to intervene but it was too late. Her patron waved his hand and soon, Astarion found himself only in his underwear. She looked angrily at Raphael.

“Don’t worry. I’m motivated to help you. Scars often tell such wonderful stories. I think yours might be truly exquisite. I’ll see you soon.” He eyed the two of them and vanished. 

At the same time, Tav removed her clock and threw it around the elf, as he said “Well. Now you know.” 

She sucked in a breath. “Go back to camp and get dressed.” Astarion nodded, doing so as told, alongside the others. 

Meanwhile, Tav turned her attention towards Mol. Although she knew Raphael, she did not enjoy the idea of such a young child making deals with him. 

“Nice strategy back there. If we put our heads together, I bet you and me could make a tidy stack of coin in Baldur’s Gate.” The girl as Tav approached her. “But Raphael’s offered me a partnership already, and it seems like a sweeter deal than throwing my lot in with you.” 

Tav gave her a serious expression, crossing her arms. . “Be careful, Mol. You are too young to be making deals with devils. They can be quite the poison.” 

The girl squinted her eye at the woman. “Poison. Sure.” She scoffed. “You seem to love the taste of it. He seems to know you pretty well.” 

Tav clenched her jaw, and tilted her head. “Touché.” She loosened her arms. “You’ve got quite the keen eye, I see.” She sighed. “But I’m being serious, Mol.” 

“Look, you saved us. Not knockin’ that.” Mol began. “But after you left, Zevlor lost his nerve - gave up the fight. I won’t. Now there’s no grove, no coin, no one taking us to the city. I’m not letting my crew get eaten by shadows.” She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll make a deal, maybe I won’t. But it’ll be my choice - not the devil’s and not yours.” Mol huffed and walked away, leaving Tav to shake her head. 

… 

After that meeting, Astarion wondered when he would meet the devil again, saying that they would need to keep their ears ready for the sound of cheap poetry and the smell of sulphur. 

“I wonder, how do you handle it, that smell all the time.” The elf complained, as the group made their way towards what could be the entrance to the mausoleum they sought. “It’s absolutely dreadful.” 

“Well, it does help that Raphael is always perfuming himself.”

“Oh, really? And what scent does he use?” 

“Cherries and musk.” Tav replied. “It’s the one he always makes me buy.” She raised a brow at Astarion’s curiosity. “Wanting to buy one for yourself?” 

“No, I-” Before he could finish, Tav raised a hand, hearing a voice. In an instant, she recognized who it belonged to. 

It was, of course, Raphael and his little theatrics. 

“How long have you been practicing those?” Tav asked, once he was done rhyming. 

“Until it was perfect.” He smiled. “As your dear patron, Tav, I thought it only fair to warn you of the dangers ahead.” 

She raised a brow. “I can handle myself, Raphael.”

He scoffed. “Intrepid as ever. It would be pointless of me to try and bar you from entering but I can still…set the scene, as it were. Prepare you for your role.”

Tav frowned. “How are you so sure that there are dangers ahead?” 

“My dear, you should know better by now. You’ll find that I play my part in many a plot.” 

The leader of the group sighed, getting agitated. “Cut the chase, Raphael.” 

“‘Patience was always a virtue that you lacked.” He commented. “But very well. There is a creature that lurks in silence and shadow - a creature, who like me, is very much of the infernal persuasion.” 

“Should it make its way out through these very doors you are about to so brazenly open, you’ll have unleashed a pestilence unto this realm.” He took a step forward. “In truth, it is carnage incarnate. Should you find it, consider no other course of action - kill it.”

Tav eyed him, feeling that something was off. “I believe there’s more that you’re not telling me.” 

‘Let me guess.’ Tav thought. ‘It’s probably one of those fiends that hates Raphael’s guts.’ 

Raphael sighed. “This creature and I go back a long way. I admit it would be in my best interest that as well should it remain in the dark - or misplace its head, perhaps. I should not relish its reacquaintance. Let’s leave it at that.” 

“Very well.” Tav said. 

He turned towards the elf. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Astarion. When the beast is dead, I’ll consider that enough payment to translate those scars of yours.”

“A fairer deal than I expected.”

The devil smirked. “Ask Tav. I always deal fairly.” With a snap of his fingers, he was gone. 

…

Finding the orthon had been less than ideal, considering that in an instant, the devil recognized their leader. 

“You. I recognized you. You’re Raphael’s little dog, following him around, obeying all the orders he barks at you.” Pointing his hand bow at her, he shouted. “Tell me where that perfumed bastard is, before I end you.”

The others tensed up behind her, but Tav remained calm, if not mildly annoyed. Placing a hand on her hip, she looked at her nails as she addressed him. “I’d be more careful with that tongue of yours, Yurgir.” She looked at the orthon. “Considering I hold the key to setting you free.”

“What are you doing?” Tav heard Astarion whisper shout behind her. “Just kill the damned thing.” She ignored him. 

“What do you mean?” Yurgir asked. 

“Oh, Yurgir, you think I don’t know about your little contract with Raphael? About the song?” She put a finger on her chin. “How was it again? Oh - I remember: Spill all blood sworn to the night / Silence all prayers; Smother all rites -”

Before she could continue, the orthon shouted. “Stop it! Stop singing. I’ve had enough of this bloody song.” He lowered his weapon. “Tell me. I did as instructed, but the song still rattles around in my head - the contract still stands, somehow. If I break it, I’ll become Raphael’s slave forever.” 

“It’s quite simple, actually.” She explained. “Pay attention to the last rhyme. Leave none to hear it, then be set free / This song is your oath, swear it, swear it to me.” Tav looked at Yurgir with a condescending glare. “Don’t you see, Yurgir. You always hear the song.” Then, Tav smirked devilishly. “Kill yourself, be reborn in the Hells. Be free of your contract.” 

The orthon huffed. “If you’re wrong about this, I’ll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive - contract be damned.” He grabbed his sword, pointing it towards his chest. “Nicely played, Raphael. Bastard.” Were his final words, as he impaled himself, body turning to ash. 

Tav smiled, proud of herself. 

“Does that count as killing him? It better count.” Astarion said and Tav nodded. 

“That was…impressive.” Shadowheart said. 

“Well, when you live with a devil for a long time, you learn a thing or two.” 

“So the song was the contract? And how did you know about the loophole?” Wyll asked. 

Tav turned towards him. “To answer your first question, indeed it was. Parchment can burn, oral agreements aren’t worth the tongues they’re waggled upon. A song lingers.” She remembered that those were Raphael’s words, when she asked him as to why a song. “And about the loophole, well, it’s simple. I was the one who helped my master come up with the rhymes.” She shrugged. “I guess that’s the luck of having an ex-bard as a warlock.” 

Wyll said nothing, only nodding along as Tav moved and began looting the place. He felt as if everyday, there was a new side to Tav that he’d never seen before. 

…

Raphael was quick to show up back at camp, praising Tav for how cleverly she avoided a direct confrontation with the orthon and telling Astarion of Cazador’s plans. As the vampire left the two of them alone, the devil took the moment to speak with his warlock privately, bringing her close to a river nearby the camp. 

“Tell me, how have you been?”

She eyed him up and down, suspiciously. Raphael was not the type to ask this sort of thing - at least, not out of the goodness of his heart. “Never been better.” She lied. 

“Truly?” He raised a brow. “Because I have this picture on my head - of you tossing and turning in the middle of the night, thinking strange things, dreaming strange dreams.” Raphael gestured. “And there’s this little voice inside your head asking: Is this my will or is it the worm’s? But you have no answer and no way of knowing.” 

“Get to the point, Raphael.” 

He took a step forwards, nose almost brushing with hers. “The point, dear Tav, is that you’ll do good to remember that there’s only one voice you should listen to: Mine.” 

Raphael moved back. “I’ll be seeing you very soon.” He snapped his fingers and he was gone. 

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 9, "Bear With Me"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: The party splits up to investigate the goblin camp and Áine seeks a blessing from Loviatar. Halsin is rescued and they aid him in taking out Minthara before she can launch her attack on the Grove in exchange for answers regarding their next steps with the parasite. Astarion overindulges on a bear and experiences a vampire’s version of drunkenness. Áine answers Astarion’s questions regarding his reflection. Astarion makes a discovery in the nighttime about Áine’s singing performance rule when an unexpected visitor arrives. 

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Suggestive content & dialogue; angst; Astarion has a flashback; lightly proofread

Word Count: 10.3k

Listening to: I Will Love You (Even If It Kills Me) - Too Far Moon

Days passed without further romantic consequence between Astarion and Áine, but not for lack of interest. 

Their party’s situation as a whole had taken several turns for the weird ever since encroaching on the goblin camp they’d sworn to clear out, including but not limited to hearing the Absolute’s voice in their skulls for the first time, an odd and violent reaction to that from the artefact Shadowheart had carried since the Nautiloid, and a not-so-odd but still violent reaction from Lae’zel upon seeing the gith markings across its polyhedric surface. That confrontation had been taken back to camp that night and Áine had needed to intervene after waking with Shadowheart’s dagger pressed against Lae’zel’s throat in her bedroll, firmly rolling back any progress the two had made in learning to coexist in the party. 

And that only accounted for the last 12 eventful hours.

And, of course, before that, there was the very normal circumstance of their entire party having the same dream about the same golden paladin urging them to embrace their illithid brainworms. 

The appearance of the dream visitor had jarred Áine more than she cared to admit. At first, she’d thought she was having a nightmare when she saw the drow woman standing before her, but it became clear that this being held a bit more substance than an ordinary dream. And then to hear that everyone else had experienced the same dream, the party as a whole had developed mixed reactions to the figure, some curious and intrigued by its message and others (like Áine) staunchly wary. She didn’t like the invasive nature of the so-called “guardian” and the way its voice pushed into her mind even on occasion in her waking hours now and she didn’t like the faint fissure it was creating within her party. 

Most of her companions were aligned with her feelings on the stranger in the astral plane and their promises and ambiguous motives, but she saw glimmers in both Astarion’s and Gale’s eyes during her conversations with them that told her they were much less opposed to the figure’s interference than she was. They were understandably curious and perhaps it was Áine’s reaction to seeing another of her kind again in such an uninvited way but each time the paladin pushed her to go one way, her core instincts all rallied for her to go the opposite.

All the while, Astarion’s inclination to find ways to keep the tadpole firmly in his mind and instead just find a way to manipulate it himself continued to solidify. The dream figure was a welcome distraction and a curious source of promise. Normally when his reveries reached deep enough to make him dream, those dreams swiftly became nightmares of his old life. This was perhaps the first time in as long as he could remember that he’d simply dreamt and not awakened straight into a panic attack or a feral rage only quelled by hunting until he tired.

While the half of his plan revolving around the tadpole seemed to be in good forward motion, the other half revolving around Áine was in a mixed state of push and pull. 

The push happened naturally—the proverbial door that existed between their mutual attraction had been ajar for some time now and the night they’d gotten unexpectedly close had flung it wide open. And it had just kind of sat there ever since. 

Not that they didn’t have plenty of things that had been keeping them busy but it had also given Astarion time to try withdrawing emotionally—thus, the pull. 

The next time he approached her with any intimate intent, he would do so fully in check. He fed himself as many excuses as needed to cope with the way his tattered brain had romanticized her, talked himself down off any ledge that bore view to a precipice that may sink him in unwelcome sentiment, and shut down any inklings that sat in the dustiest corners of his mind just waiting with predatory anticipation to remove him from his own seat of power again. 

Lie after lie after lie if needed, he would drink them all down. He didn’t care about her, he needed her. He didn’t need her emotionally, he needed her strength and protection. He didn’t need to love her, she needed to love him, and if his estimation after years of practice were worth a damn, she was halfway there. 

And the most important lie of all—that their first kiss had been fully planned, a clever ploy, and had not under any circumstances been a flight of passion on his part. Passion had died in him long ago. He had simply seen an opportunity, a moment, and seized it.

Hells, I can barely even stand to like her, he worked to convince himself in the present moment, even as his gaze adhered to her removing her armor padding and then her tunic. Sure, he’d learned new nuances about her character in the days since their kiss and they’d been a mixed bag of amusing and endearing, but he could’ve said that about anyone in their troop. Even Gale.

Were it possible to choke on a lying thought, he may have choked on that one.

Learning about Áine had begun to boil down into the smaller details as he’d had a general idea of who she was after the first leg of their travels. 

She was both quick to joy and exasperation in equal measure and if she was quick to anger, she hid it better than the former two. She was shy about singing but open about what she didn’t know, and comfortable manipulating her instruments however she felt most confident while not batting an eye when she hit a sour note in front of an audience. She was a powerhouse in wit on the battlefield until her team lost the advantage and her friends were endangered, which then sent her hurtling toward the frontlines to absorb the enemy’s aggression, shifting attention away from her injured allies. She’d historically shown quick thinking when she knew they wouldn’t survive further violence on the road and met interpersonal conflict with a patience Astarion couldn’t begin to understand.

Those were the more overarching themes in Áine’s character, but they were starting to be further parsable to the vampire’s unadmitted growing obsession with her. For example, in the last few days, he’d seen that her saintlike patience had its limits and they mostly surfaced when she was disrespected. He’d seen hints of this within their group, including in the small spat they’d had outside the Grove, but if she ever got to a point of becoming snippy, she often apologized directly after. 

This had proved to not be a universal truth for those who crossed her, as he’d seen when she’d responded to a goblin’s demeaning comments and demands to smear their “war paint colors” on her face by slamming the entire handful of the worg shit the goblin referred to in his nasty little face instead. It had, of course, resulted in a fray that Áine had enthusiastically leapt into, but while Astarion was usually averse to causing unnecessary squabbles that wouldn’t result in anything but extra effort and bruises for him, he respected the hell out of her response to the confrontation. Not to mention that it was an amusing thing to witness.

Speaking of unexpected things Áine did that he was content to bear witness to, Astarion hungrily watched as Áine handed off her discarded armor and tunic top to Shadowheart and stepped toward the alcove indicated by the odd priest in the goblin camp, the stone bricks already slick with blood from his performed penance. As the priest Abdirak paused to select his implement of choice, Astarion let his eyes travel languidly over the soft, perfect curve of her spine, his gaze only briefly touching her shoulder. He noticed that the starburst-shaped scars that he’d seen on her front also made appearances on her back as well, giving the impression that she’d been shot with something. Her past discomfort after overworking the muscles there suddenly began to make a little more sense.

“This had better be worth it,” Astarion heard Áine murmur under her breath as she braced herself against the bloodied wall. 

Behind him, past the mouth of the narrow room, he could hear the rowdy, keening squeals of drunk celebrating goblins. The group had split up to investigate the defiled Selunite temple in hopes that their combined efforts would unearth the Archdruid Halsin and pinpoint the leaders before things had a chance to get messy. Lae’zel had headed off with Gale and Karlach to do a careful patrol around the main activities—Astarion admittedly felt a bit of pity for Gale and the likely babysitting he’d have to do with those two to keep them from stirring the pot with one of the guards or some such, but the wizard hadn’t seemed bothered at all by the split results—and Wyll was lingering by the exit back into the main hall, where he’d retreated as soon as Áine had met Shadowheart’s challenge to take some penance for a potential blessing by beginning to disrobe.

“The pain you suffer will cleanse you,” Abdirak told Áine with a little too much eagerness for Astarion’s liking and the vampire noticed the way the “holy man”s eyes roved over her lilac skin. “Do not fight it.”

“So scream?” Áine asked to confirm just as Abdirak brought the tendrils of a cat-of-nine-tails down hard across her back. “Fucking Hells!”

Astarion snorted as Áine swore through gritted teeth, just imagining the pummeling she’d unleash on this pallid human priest were she not allowing this pain. She’d so matter-of-factly asked if she had to scream to get what was promised of this interaction, he almost wondered if she could’ve stayed entirely silent had he indicated she should. This was a performance game, however, and he seemed to realize that at the same time Áine, herself, did. 

“Louder, child,” Abdirak commanded, adjusting his grip on the whip. “Let Loviatar hear you!”

In a murmur just toward him, Shadowheart remarked, “Would you have joined up with her if you’d known she’d be indulging in this sort of thing, Astarion?” 

He almost wondered if she only asked him that so he’d know that she knew something was going on. If only to give her more than she bargained for, Astarion responded in an equally low voice, “I mean, I had my hopes.”

The look of disgust that crossed the cleric’s face was a more than sufficient reward for his response.

They were interrupted when a hard crack and Áine’s scream pierced the alcove, the acoustics carrying it up into the rafters like a church bell’s toll. It was obvious to everyone in attendance that she was acting, or at least exaggerating her reaction, or at least that’s what he thought until Wyll was starting to barge past him and Shadowheart.

Shadowheart caught Wyll’s arm and patted his bicep once he stopped. “She’s fine. Just getting a blessing off a priest of Loviatar.”

“What sort of blessing is worth that?” Wyll asked, horrified. 

“It’s not so bad as you think,” Astarion said with a smirk. “Knowing personally what the nobility of Baldur’s Gate get up to, I’m a little surprised you’ve not explored your tastes a bit further, Wyll.”

Wyll’s face flushed scarlet and he excused himself back to the entryway, Astarion chuckling in his wake. Ever since it had come up that he was the son of the very duke who had been rumored kidnapped by cultists just a day prior, Astarion had taken advantage of ample opportunities to razz the Blade of Frontiers.

The familiar bouquet of Áine’s blood met his nose just as another hit landed on the bard’s back and she performatively wailed in response.

Abdirak was trembling with elated energy and something that bordered on desire, shouting, “Your voice sounds so sweet, dear one. Keep going!”

“Sing for me, boy! Of all my children, your screams have always sounded sweetest.”

Astarion’s throat tightened as the intrusive voice forced its way through the tender folds of his memory. His teeth clenched so tightly amongst their own grooves that his jaw began to grow sore. His vision seemed to narrow as he focused only on metering his reaction to the unwelcome memory and stomaching it before it showed on his face. He was fully present still in that narrow room, save for his eyes which were thousands of miles away.

Áine had felt the whip cut her about three strikes in, which was approximately when it had occurred to her that doing this right before what may be one of the biggest brawls they’d faced yet may not have been the best plan. Even with the blessing’s benefits, if she’d played her part correctly, her back was still prematurely battered and she’d have to waste a health potion on it to not create a liability for her group.

“Sweet child,” Abdirak breathed, cluing her in that she’d bore the full brunt and could straighten up from the alcove. “You bore the pain like a true believer. I am proud to have served you this penance.”

“It was certainly an…interesting experience,” Áine said, crossing her arms over her bare chest as she turned around to face him. She spotted Shadowheart and Astarion precisely where she’d left them. Shadowheart looked mildly amused while Astarion… Well, where she’d expected either a joke or one of his canned sultry smirks, he looked entirely distant. She wondered if he was alright.

“Loviatar herself found your performance…inspiring,” Abdirak said, drawing Áine’s attention back to him for the moment. “She has deemed you worthy of her blessing.”

Thank the gods, Áine sighed inwardly. Or thank Loviatar specifically. I may have served this man a penance of his own if I’d been denied something after that.

There was an edge of amusement in the feeling that swept over her from the red glow that Abdirak cast over her and she could feel a woman’s presence in the aura, similar to how she’d experienced the Weave with Gale. Áine had a feeling that perhaps Loviatar had heard or sensed her thoughts at that moment and found her musings entertaining.       

When the light settled, Abdirak added, “And on a personal note…thank you. That was positively divine.” 

Áine was glad he didn’t expect a response to that because she had no idea what to say. When the priest turned his back on her, her polite smile fell and she felt her face contort with dismay. Gods, he’d gotten off on that, she just knew it.

She approached her companions, taking her tunic from Shadowheart’s hands and turning it around to align it with her arms. “Well?” Shadowheart prompted her. “Do you feel cleansed? Better yet, strengthened?”

Áine shrugged as she slid one of the sleeves over her arm. “To be decided. He did…something. And not just for effect, I felt something settle over me,” Áine said, “but that was probably a foolish thing to do in retrospect. We may have to fight our way out of here, after all, and I just started the work on behalf of those little creeps out there.”

“Would you like me to heal you?” Shadowheart offered.

Áine hastily shook her head as she gingerly tugged her other sleeve on, already wincing in preparation to put the garment back over herself. “No, no, this was my bright idea even with your cajoling,” Áine smirked. “I’d much rather you save your energy until we know what we’re dealing with. But thank you.” 

“I can’t imagine it will be anything aside from the sheer number of them rather than their might,” Shadowheart remarked. “Are you quite sure?”

The bard nodded, pausing in putting her tunic on so she could dig a health potion from her bag, hoping that would take the edge off. “It’s really not so bad. I’ll drink something to level it out and after that, I’ll—Astarion, what are you doing?”

While she’d been speaking to Shadowheart, she’d felt him step around her, but now she felt his cool hands adjusting her hair off her shoulders and into a manageable clump at her nape. “Hold this and hold still,” he mumbled instead of answering her question.

Bewildered and admittedly still a little dazed from her beating, Áine obeyed and reached back with the hand not holding her bag to clasp her hair in place. She parted her lips to ask again what he was up to when she felt his hands drop to her hips, rooting her in place as he dropped down to one knee behind her. What in the world is he—

Her eyes went round and her lips pursed shut as she felt what could’ve only been his tongue running a slow line over one of the bloody welts on her back. Áine felt her face flush deep and hot, the healing potion that she’d just barely found purchase on with her fingertips clattering back into the belly of her bag. Shock kept her stock-still through the first touch because surely she had to be imagining this, he had to have grabbed a cloth or something and her uncharacteristically perverse brain was twisting the situation. It had to be the tadpole skewing the nature of her thoughts.

Áine tensed as she felt another tender lave across her cuts. No, he was definitely licking her wounds and seemed to be purposefully taking his time to tease her. She swallowed and it was louder than intended, which made him chuckle. She felt the soft vibration of the sound against her skin and liquid heat shot from her chest down to her core with an intensity that startled her.

The bard’s gaze drifted to Shadowheart and if Áine could’ve blushed deeper she would’ve. The cleric was watching her face with a dastardly level of smugness, her teeth holding her lower lip to keep herself from laughing at her friend’s mixture of bliss and distress. To Astarion, she said, “Couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a cheeky snack, vampire?”

Astarion gave a quiet, dismissive grumble before leaning away from Áine’s back, satisfied with his work as his gaze traced the still-present but no longer bleeding welts. “A welcome side-effect of being uncharacteristically helpful, dear,” Astarion said, standing up straight again. To Áine, he said, “Go on with the potion now. The cuts are clotted and starting to heal, so it will be more productive.”

Oh right, Áine realized in a daze, his actions making more sense with that reasoning in place. The welts had gone numb under the slick of his saliva and Áine felt sheepish for her first thought not being that he could handle any minor open wound just like he had the past couple of times he’d drank from her. Clearing her throat, Áine retrieved the potion bottle she’d dropped back into her bag and uncapped it, downing it in one careful swig. Lo and behold, he was right. She could feel it working immediately.

Still very much amused, Shadowheart offered Áine’s armor back to its owner. “A convenient excuse for enjoying our fearless leader like a melty icepop,” she commented. From the other side of the room, Wyll was heard half-choking at catching her words and making sense of them.

Face still burning, Áine gave her a chiding look and reached for her armor, only to be intercepted by Astarion, who reached around Áine’s smaller body and lifted the padding away from the cleric’s hands. “As if I’d need an excuse,” he smirked, as rakish in his tone as his expression as he levelly met Shadowheart’s scolding gaze.

Shadowheart snorted softly and left them to it, going to join Wyll by the hall. Áine pulled her tunic fully on and straightened it at her waist, stealing extra seconds before she turned around in hopes that maybe her color would fade a little. With no luck, Áine swallowed and faced the vampire behind her. She was unable to hide her shyness from her expression, which made her even more embarrassed. Meanwhile, the way that she looked up through her snowy lashes to meet his eyes was doing something dangerous and unwarranted to Astarion’s dead heart.

Still shaken from his earlier vision, but steadied somehow by having an excuse to be close to her, Astarion’s crimson gaze drank her in for a moment, his smirk lingering softly at the edges of his mouth. Áine was having a tough time looking at him and his pretty lips without remembering how they’d just brushed over her back, how they’d felt so desperately crashing against hers just the other night. He’d been so composed immediately after that tiny moment they’d shared and ever since. She almost wondered if she’d gotten a small peek into something forbidden in that span of a kiss, a truth of him that she yearned to untangle and meet again.

“You poor sweet thing,” he murmured as he placed her armor back over her, derailing her thoughts. “Are you in love with me yet?”

“Hush,” Áine muttered back, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” he observed, speaking again before Áine could argue with him. “I will admit I didn’t foresee this sort of thing being intriguing to you.”

“The penance?” Áine asked. When he nodded, she said, “It’s not…in that way. But it felt like a small price to pay for an extra bit of help.”

Astarion acknowledged her response with a soft hum as he adjusted her armor, his fingers nimbly taking the ties and beginning to lace her back up. Her eyes dropped to the cuff of his doublet and she noticed new traces of immaculate embroidery overlaying the old frayed gold threads. Seeing that he’d found a use for the thread she’d found him made her smile, but it also made her remember yet again what had followed and caused new color to touch her cheeks. 

When his eyes flickered back up to meet hers, Áine noticed that he focused on her cheek and her hand instinctively rose to investigate despite knowing he was probably just watching her face change colors. When she drew her fingertips away from her cheek, they came away with a faint smear of blood. “I think I hit the wall the first time,” she mumbled, instinctively starting to lower her hand and wipe the blood off on her pants. “I didn’t realize how hard he was going to—”

The vampire snared her wrist before she could wipe her hand off, his other hand gently taking her chin and angling her head so he could better inspect the small scrape. She was deliciously pliant in his hands. “May I?” he asked, meeting her eyes again.

Áine’s face felt hot again. “Um, sure,” she said without really thinking. What in the Hells is happening to me? she wondered, the gray areas of her heart blooming with colors by the day in this man’s shadow.

Astarion held her gaze as he leaned in, his cool breath fanning against her cheek before his lips closed over the cut. Áine expected him to linger but for the sake of getting his fix of blood from her last little wound, perhaps using it for a taste in the same way he’d capitalized on the cut she’d had on her shoulder before. And he did linger, but far more in the way of a kiss pressed to a lover’s cheek. He lingered like he wanted to taste more than the blood he thirsted for. Like he wanted to taste her.

And, by the Hells, he did want to.

For all his performance art around the path to seduction, for all his adopted rakish tendencies that had become fallback defenses across the span of centuries, for all the motions he’d gone through with countless bodies in back alleys and inn rooms in perfect and practiced execution, Astarion couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted any of it. It all felt tainted. He felt tainted. Even now, his own tenderness reeked of a ploy and it was difficult to understand his own motivations, to sift through the murk and find the root of why he kept gravitating to her. 

These touches, these flirtations were things he would do to trick someone in his sordid past, to lure them back for his master. And he wanted to do them with her, but it all still felt fake, it still felt wrong. Especially with her. Down deep, past his plans and fear and engrained habits, he felt pure shame. The duality of wanting her at arm’s length and also wanting her so close he forgot the contours of his own body was as maddening as it was frightening.  

Áine’s eyes drifted back up to Astarion’s when he finally leaned away from her cheek, the numbing sensation along her cut fading after a few seconds but leaving behind the memory of his lips in its wake. She smiled, her expression timid but tender. Astarion felt her warmth melt against the coldness inside him. He was truly the villain his old master had molded him to be, to be willing to cast his tainted shadows against the light of the woman standing before him.

Old motions took over as he smiled his rakish smile and raised the hand he still held by the wrist to his mouth. He didn’t take his eyes off her or the violet rose hues that heated her face and her delicious neck as he closed his cool lips around her bloodied fingers and sucked the red cleanly off. “Ready to go?” he asked, his voice a soft, rich timbre.

Áine laughed, and Astarion felt proud that she sounded just the slightest bit breathless. “I don’t know, am I?” she wondered. “I can confidently say I’ve never been more doused in another person’s spit in all my life.”

Astarion smirked and he didn’t have to draw on old practices for its sensual edge to shine through. “Give me time, my love,” he purred and Áine wasn’t sure that her body wouldn’t combust from the heat that flooded her veins.

“Right,” Áine mumbled, pressing her hands against his chest as she wriggled out of his grasp. “Not here, please.”

Astarion laughed at how quickly flustered she became under his ministrations but released her and followed her back to rejoin the others. Wyll gave him a scolding look the moment he arrived and Astarion wondered if he’d earned the sour expression from what he was sure the duke’s son perceived as scandalous advances in general or if he’d earned them specifically because he directed them at Áine. Instead of parsing any of it, Astarion simply winked at Wyll and caused the Blade to give up and turn his back on him.

Gale, Karlach, and Lae’zel rejoined them then and the hard look shared between Shadowheart and the githyanki warrior was palpable and felt by the group at large. Gale cleared his throat and leaned in close to Áine to murmur, “Gut has been taken care of. We have time, but likely not as much as we could hope.”

Áine’s brows rose and she took in the edge of Lae’zel’s longsword tinged with goblin blood. “Well done,” she said. “Although I didn’t know we would start so soon.”

“We got an opportunity once she realized we had tadpoles, too,” Karlach explained. ���It was just us and her in her chamber. Figured there wasn’t going to be a better opportunity.”

“For sure,” Áine agreed, nodding to herself. “Okay. We work faster then. The boy from Aradin’s crew said Halsin had taken a bear form. Let’s use what time we have before someone finds Gut to find Halsin and then dispatch the other two leaders after. Yes?”

“Yes,” came the murmur of agreement. As Áine began to lead the way down the stone hallway, Gale said, “Say, Áine… You didn’t happen to scream a little while ago, did you? You look fine, obviously, but we could’ve sworn we heard you.”

Áine laughed a little, winding her hair into a messy bun at her nape with a leather cord while they walked. “Yeah, I ended up getting a pain goddess’s blessing the old-fashioned way,” she said. “But I had to play it up to earn it.”

“I told you it was rehearsed,” Lae’zel said to Gale.

“Was it that obvious?” Áine asked, sounding a bit disappointed.

Lae’zel shook her head. “Not quite. But a true warrior rarely screams from the onslaught of pain. Rather the thrill and anticipation of the battle that brings it.”

Never had someone so thoroughly expressed admiration toward another person while personally decimating the rest of their party, who all were now thinking back to their most recent battles and recounting each time they reacted to pain with a shout. 

Áine, oblivious to the slight on their allies, smiled at Lae’zel appreciatively. 

It didn’t take long to find the cave bear in question whom they could only hope was the Archdruid in his wild form. Between roars of upset from the ursine creature and the high-pitched cackling of goblin children and their warden, the group landed themselves near some worg cages, where it appeared that the piercing laughter was the result of pitching rocks toward the caged bear. Áine’s expression crumpled. Even if it weren’t Halsin and was truly a bear, she felt awful seeing it captured and tortured. 

Leave it to me to end my journey by freeing a bear only to have it maul me once it’s done with the goblins, she thought, but there was a decision in her step as she approached the offending group.

The worg pens fell into chaos as the goblins took offense to their meddling and the cave bear careened against its cage door, unhinging it and crushing one of the guards in the process. With her back on the mend thanks to her hoarded health potion supply and the graciousness of her vampire companion, Áine fell into the heat of the battle with gusto, all confidence and exhilaration in a swirl of glittering scimitar blades.  

Support was light for fights like these—Lae’zel and Karlach fell into the frontline with ease and enthusiasm, taking on the biggest adversaries while Wyll, Astarion, and Áine played support and Gale helped Shadowheart save some of her energy by mitigating any injuries taken by their team. 

The entirety of the fight could’ve been summarized by a singular goblin guard who charged into the fight with a warcry on his lips and a bottle of grease in his hand, slammed the bottle to the ground as soon as he reached Áine, Lae’zel, and Karlach, and was subsequently the only one to slip and fall. The three stared down at him until Karlach and Áine simultaneously fell apart with laughter and Lae’zel gave an annoyed “chk” at the goblin’s interruption. 

As the body count of the pint-sized heretics littering the floor rose to a satisfying degree, Áine switched her swords for the lute slung across her back, practiced fingers plucking a tune from the strings while her companions finished off the remaining flock. As mockery on a goblin seemed too easy in her mind at the moment, she let notes of symphonic inspiration flow from her instrument, humming softly along.

Across the room, Astarion was similarly assured of their victory but not quite so assured of their leader’s decision to free the wild animal from the cage. He supposed he could have an early meal if the bear proved to not be a druid in wild form after all, but it all felt a little unnecessary. Especially given his lack of inclination to rid himself of the tadpole just yet. He watched Áine’s hands move gracefully over the strings, the purposeful twangs echoing with ease in the stone chamber. She moved in a sort of dance with the music she crafted and he watched as she painted an arc of blood on the tiles with the toe of her boot, her body bowed over the lute and becoming its extension. 

Mesmerized, he nearly missed the guard by the mouth of the hall, its crossbow raised and aimed at their unsuspecting bard. It was possible she could’ve dodged or suffered only a minor injury, but they’d never find out as Astarion loosed an arrow directly into the goblin’s throat. With a loud, wet gurgle, it collapsed to the floor, but not without catching Áine’s attention. She turned to look toward the sound, her fingers never faltering, and then followed the trajectory of the arrow until she met his eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d flanked her from afar, but she did notice with extra appreciation at that moment how well he’d found and taken on his role in their growing group and how watchful he seemed to be with her at times.

The small smile she sent his way held such a sunny disposition that, were it not for the tadpole, he daresaid he may have burned. 

The last goblin fell with a grunt to the acid-splashed, greased, bloodied stonework floor, and only then did the party turn to the cave bear, the moment of truth arriving for their gamble. In a flourish of golden light and swirling leaves, the cave bear became a towering wood elf adorned with a druid’s armor, clawmark scars across his brow, and kind attentive eyes.

Eyes that, to Astarion’s disdain, latched directly onto Áine.

“Praise Sylvanus for your arrival,” the druid declared. “Apologies for the bloodshed. The Oak Father encourages reverence for life in all its forms, but goblins seem to be a particular breed that may stand outside that rule.” He inclined his head, crossing his arm over his chest in a sign of respect. “Thank you for freeing me. Although I’m uncertain if your intuition led you to a hunch that it was no ordinary cave bear you were helping or you’re mad enough to free a wild animal from its cage, consequences be damned.”

“A ‘hunch’ is a good word for it,” Áine admitted, adjusting her lute back across her shoulders. “We’d heard that you may have taken the form of a bear, so it was an educated guess.”

“A true friend of nature then,” he chuckled. “You were searching for me specifically, then?”

“You are the Archdruid Halsin, aren’t you?” Áine asked. “The one versed in the strange illithid tadpole anomaly affecting the region?”

Halsin’s brow creased. “The very same. What interest have you in the tadpoles?”

“Each more than we’d like,” Áine said, glancing at her companions. Astarion was inclined to disagree but kept it to himself. “We’re escapees from a Nautiloid, each with our own little…stowaways, I suppose. We’ve been told that you’re our best hope of removing them.” A disgruntled sound came from Lae’zel behind her. “Okay, one of our best hopes.”

“May I?” Halsin asked, beckoning Áine closer. She stepped away from the group and her eyes followed his hand as he raised it toward her face, the same golden light from earlier filling the air around them. He closed his eyes and she could feel him probing at her aura, at her mind and the creature inside it. The light faded and his expression turned horrified as he opened his eyes to regard her again. “Oak Father preserve you, child, you are indeed infected.”

Áine felt her chest tighten a little. In the midst of all their squabbles and adventuring, sometimes it was possible to forget the real factor in their decision to band together. Hearing the words again aloud renewed her unease tenfold. “Can you help?” she asked.

“I cannot, I’m afraid,” Halsin said. It was evident in his tone that he wished it weren’t the case. “However, I may have a lead for you to learn more about these parasites and maybe, through that, relieve yourselves of them. My first priority, however, is to the Grove. There is a drow here who intends to attack the Grove and its people and I must eliminate the threat to my people before I in good conscience leave this place.” He nodded toward the refuse scattered around them. “You have proven yourselves more than capable in battle. Help me take down the goblin leaders here and I will help guide you to what I believe to be the source of truth for your infection.”

Áine’s lips pursed. “It feels a bit unfair to hold such vital information like a carrot on a string.”

Halsin’s eyes softened on the half-elf. “I know, and I am sorry for it. But I’m in great need of your help. The Grove as well. They will not survive such an onslaught as she has planned for them.”

“We were originally en route to this place to clear it anyway for Zevlor,” Gale pointed out in a lowered voice to Áine. Addressing Halsin now, he said, “We did find one of Aradin’s lads alive on a rack near the entrance. He was going back to the Grove to warn them last we saw him.”

“And the goblin priestess, Gut, has already been dispatched,” Lae’zel reminded them all, leaning against her longsword with the tip of its blade balanced perfectly against the stone.

“You work quickly,” Halsin observed with admiration. “Then that leaves only the hobgoblin and the drow. Hardly a small feat, but much more doable than I first anticipated. Knowing that the boy will be able to warn the Grove as well is a comfort.”

Áine nodded, seemingly to herself. “Alright, we’ll do it,” she said. Astarion’s lip curled in disapproval behind her and his frustration only intensified as she added, “with your help. We’ll make short work of them in our combined efforts.”

Halsin smiled. “Then you have my thanks and my claws.”

They made their way out of the worg pens and into the adjacent chamber where the drow in question and a handful of goblins awaiting her command pored over battle plans, a floating scrying eye tracing their movements. Another brawl broke out with the strike of a thunder-imbued arrow to the eye’s indigo sclera, the entity dissolving in a puff of like-colored vapor. 

Off-guard, the drow went down with a few lethal hits to her vital organs, Áine advancing closer to finish the job while her companions took out the goblins. She drew her scimitars as the woman raised her head and met Áine’s eyes, recognition dawning on both their faces. Minthara’s eyes narrowed on Áine, incredulity warring with hate. “You—,” she began, but Áine didn’t give her a chance to finish, running her through with a cross of her blades. 

Áine’s jaw worked as she looked down at Minthara’s dying expression. She drew in a metered breath and pulled her swords from her cousin’s body, glancing back at her companions to see if anyone had been near enough to notice what she’d said. Satisfied that her first exchange in decades with Minthara had been private, Áine began to root through her pockets, a muted form of panic stirring inside her at being near one of her kin again after all this time. She felt nothing at killing the other woman, just as Minthara would’ve felt nothing at killing her. Perhaps Minthara may have even relished it, but Áine didn’t share the sentiment. However, seeing a familiar face had shaken her.

She’d parsed through Minthara’s belongings and the documents on her desk when Astarion strolled up to peruse what Áine had left on the ground, holding up a spider leather outfit that befitted a more leisurely setting than a battlefield, the vest hitting well below the navel and flaring into well-tailored shoulders resembling bat wings. “Surely you’re not passing this up, my dear,” he commented, running the pad of his thumb over the seam. “You’d look positively ravishing.”

Áine looked up from the battleplans she was scouring, her stomach twisting when she set eyes on the spider leather attire that only ever befitted a drow. Even brushing her fingertips against the hide had sent a nervous twitch through her hands. “Thank you, but I’m alright,” she said. “Perhaps Lae’zel or Shadowheart will want it.”

Astarion wasn’t shocked by her response, but he was intrigued. Perhaps it was a case of just not liking the style of the outfit, but he wondered as well if it had to do with its drow make. They’d not talked about it, but he’d gotten the sense both from the flash of memory he’d seen via their tadpole connection and from the way her demeanor changed when topics broached her past that she wasn’t fond of where she came from. Why, he hadn’t a clue, but he knew better than to press. “Suit yourself, darling,” he said with ease, setting it back where he’d found it.

Áine smiled softly to herself as she looked back down at the papers, drawing a deep breath to steady her heavy heart. She only looked up again when approached, finding Halsin standing before her back in his human form. “Never had a doubt in my mind for our success,” he said, his voice warm and deep. “I must make my way back to the Grove now that the threat is mitigated. Come find me there and we will see what can be done to address your troubles.”

The bard frowned. “You can’t just tell me where we should go now?”

“I understand what it must seem like from a stranger,” Halsin said, raising a pleading, placating hand. “On Sylvanus, Himself, I swear to you I will answer any and all questions that I can once I ensure the safety of the Grove. I’ve been absent due to my own folly long enough without appointing another.”

Áine nodded slowly, remembering their short time there. “Kagha may need additional address,” she commented offhand as she turned the parchment on the desk. “If she hasn’t already sealed off the Grove completely.”

“Sealed off the—,” Halsin began to ask, stopping himself and giving his head a curt shake. “Then it seems my return is evermore urgent. I will see you back at the Grove, I trust, then?”

“You will,” Áine said, looking back up to meet his eyes. Halsin smiled, clearly relieved, and she added, “In your rounds, would you tell Zevlor the threat to his people has been neutralized? I’d like for them to be able to start their preparations ahead of our arrival.”

“You have my word it will be my first conversation upon returning,” Halsin said. “Thank you again. I will see you soon.”

Áine listened to him leave, running her hands over her face with frustration. Astarion watched her reaction, pleased at least that she didn’t seem taken by the tall, hunky druid, despite being a bit over-friendly earlier. Perhaps it was more of the “camaraderie” she’d referenced with Shadowheart. Regardless, he didn’t like it. To Áine, he said, “Seemed a bit of a farce to give us an extra leg of our journey just for some answers.”

“Answers he promised following taking out Min—the drow leader,” she said, barely stumbling in her speech but still doing so enough for Astarion to notice.

Astarion stowed the dagger he was inspecting, eying Áine as he crossed leisurely toward her post at the drow’s desk. “You knew her name?”

Áine debated with herself for a moment, her gaze flickering up to check the locations of the others, before she murmured, “I knew her. Sort of.”

His brows rose. “How?”

Clearly uncomfortable, Áine straightened from her hunch over the battleplans and rested her hands on her hips. “I think she worked out to be my second or third cousin in the weird scheme of family trees,” she sighed. “I only met her a few times, usually under unpleasant circumstances.”

“Unpleasant family interactions,” Astarion mused, stopping to stand in front of her. “I can relate to that.”

Áine smiled ruefully. “We both deserved far better than we got regarding our ‘caretakers’.”

“You’ve no idea, dearest,” he murmured, meeting her eyes again and reading the pain there. “Or perhaps you do. Just perhaps in a shorter time.”

“I was born into mine,” she admitted, leaning back to sit against the edge of the desk. “You?”

Astarion shook his head. “Reborn into mine, I suppose. Although it’s never felt like much of a life, this immortal coil,” he mumbled, not sure why he was being so honest with her.

Her brow creased as she ventured to ask, “Was it all…like what I saw?” She wanted to know him, but she was afraid to accidentally press where he wasn’t ready and scare him back into his mask.

Áine saw his jawline tense before he answered, his gaze sliding up to the top of her head so he didn’t have to look her in the eyes as he said, “200 years of it.”

Of all the things the bard expected, she hadn’t expected that. Her heart compacted, crushed in her chest as she looked at him with a new perspective, in some ways seeing him for the first time. She didn’t realize that her eyes had started to well with sympathetic tears until he met her gaze again and looked alarmed. “Now now, don’t do that,” he scolded her. “I didn’t answer your question for the sake of pity.”

“Sorry,” Áine said, blinking hard as she looked up at the crumbling ceiling to try and contain the moisture that had risen to her eyes. Now worrying about her reaction, she didn’t see the way he looked at her, the way he was reacting to seeing someone feel for him for the first time. He should’ve been pleased, should’ve milked it for the sake of his so-called plan because it clearly was working in his favor. “For this,” she added, gesturing vaguely at herself, “and that it happened to you at all.”

“What could you have to be sorry for?” he asked.

“For the fact that it happened,” she said, her eyes tinged pink at the corners but the floodgates successfully shut. “On behalf of everyone who failed to help you.”

“One must try in order to fail,” he spat bitterly. “Complacency and indifference from all parties involved. There was a time I prayed to any god whose name I knew that might listen and not one of them made any attempt. The mind flayers were the ones who sprung me, who gave me some of my own life back.” Astarion ground his teeth, running one of his hands roughly through his curls. 

Áine watched him, nodding a little. She knew something of that divine silence. “The gods seem to be best at maintaining the quiet when our prayers are loudest,” she observed. She offered a halfhearted smile and leaned away from the desk. “I imagine I would have died in the attempt, but I wouldn’t mind a shot at going back in time to try springing you a bit earlier.”

“You would have died in the attempt,” he confirmed, snorting a bit at the mere whim. “However, I appreciate the sentiment. Even though I would wager that it would have still left me with most of my enslavement…?”

“Are you trying to find a sneaky way to ask my age?” Áine accused him, content to move back to lighter topics.

Astarion smirked. “All a clever plan, you see,” he remarked. “Walk the path of a roundabout conversation only to pounce when you least expect it.”

“You do have a habit of the pouncing bit, I’ve noticed,” she laughed, glancing over her shoulder to check on the others. When she saw them gathering up by the archway back to the main hall, Áine nodded for him to follow her and rejoin the group. 

“You’ve yet to see the half of it, my dear,” he murmured, leaning in close to her ear. His breath against her cheek caused a delicious shiver to work its way up her spine and she ducked away with a laugh that made Astarion smirk and also feel inclined to chase her. “Indulge me though.”

“Fine,” Áine said. “I’m 55. And, in truth, I only skirted my own personal hell about ten years ago by now, so I wouldn’t have spared you much time at all from your two centuries.”

Astarion filed those notes away to his timeline for her, bewildered by his compulsion to know her. “I would have taken what I could get,” he said, “but you would have failed. A true vampire is nothing to trifle with.”

“What about you?” she asked as they crossed the bridge spanning the chasm between halves of the room. “200 and how many years old?”

Astarion smirked. “Are you trying to find a blatantly obvious way to ask my age?” he asked, mimicking her earlier tone. 

“I am,” she declared. “It’s only fair.”

“Very well,” Astarion sighed. “239 in total.”

Her brow crumpled. “You were only 39?” That was unbearably young by elvish standards. He nodded and she swore quietly. “What an awful bastard.”

“He technically saved me, you know,” Astarion mumbled. “I didn’t realize the strings that came attached to the ‘gift’, but I would be long dead in the city streets if not for it.” His eyes traveled to the group as they neared the doorway, the ruins past the stone arch littered with battle-ready goblins who had finally found the body of their beloved Absolutist priestess in her room. “A story for another time though perhaps.”

Later that night, after fighting their way through the entire camp and effectively becoming doused in goblin blood and projectile grease, the group set up camp and took turns cleaning themselves off at the riverside. 

Generally pleased to rinse herself of the muck and the situation overall, Áine returned as one of the last back to camp, winding her wet hair into a braid over her shoulder on her way to her tent. 

Her path was interrupted by a wayward vampire, who looked positively moony past anything she’d ever seen on his face. 

“There you are! My friend!” Astarion exclaimed, his gestures broad and sweeping to a point that Áine was wary of being clonked by one. 

“Are you drunk?” she asked, trying to make sense of his behavior. 

“I have drunk! Not alcohol, of course, but a bear,” he said. “He took a little of my blood. I took all of his.”

Áine smirked as she knelt to pack her bathing implements away. When she stood and faced him again, she returned to working on the plait in her hair and asked, “It wasn’t Halsin, was it?”

Astarion laughed and it was a quick and almost boisterous sound. Gods, he was out of it. “And if it was?” he scoffed, gesturing flippantly. “One less ingrate to stand there and devour you with their eyes.”

Her brows rose. Amused, she asked, “Jealous again? I’ve told you before, it’s hardly more than camaraderie.”

He snorted dismissively. “My sweet, I know ‘camaraderie’ when I see it. You were right about your dynamic with Shadowheart, I admit I misunderstood it, but trust me to know when another man is looking at something he wants to sink his teeth into.”

Áine just laughed. “I think you’re the only one game to sink your teeth into me,” she remarked as she tied off her braid. 

“I’m far from the only one,” he argued. His expression returned to something more relaxed as he flashed her a fangy smile. “But I am the best candidate.”

It crossed her mind that perhaps Astarion had targeted a bear because of whatever looks he thought Halsin was giving her earlier on. It was a startling and oddly sexy consideration. Mostly because, thankfully, the bear he’d picked wasn’t the Archdruid they’d gone to so much trouble to rescue. “It definitely wasn’t the druid though?” she asked, only half-kidding. 

“It was not,” Astarion grumbled, waving her off. “It was a bear. A big bear. And a marked improvement from the rats and flies that Cazador fed me.”

Astarion truly seemed to be in a mood to volunteer information, Áine noticed, her lips pursing slightly at the mention of his old master’s name. “Sounds horrid. And hardly enough to live on.”

“Just enough to keep me alive, for lack of a better word,” Astarion remarked. “No more, no less. Still, that is firmly in the past. I’ll never have to grovel for him again.”

Áine nodded, running her fingers along her braid as she said, “It’s true. You can be better than he ever was.”

“Exactly!” Astarion said. “I can be better than him. Stronger. More powerful. More…” He gauged Áine’s expression and snorted. “...Oh, you meant…be kinder. Pet bunnies, that sort of thing.”

“You needn’t be a saint, but I’m not sure getting power-hungry will get you what you need,” she mused.

“I have no objection to being ‘nice’,” Astarion said. “Once I have the power to bend others to my will. You can’t look at the world and tell me that I’m wrong. The power-hungry run Faerûn.”

“You’re not wrong, but in a better world, the powerful would have a duty to protect those with less standing,” Áine said. “And a better world does sound nice.”

“We’ve already discussed how absent the ‘powerful’ were in my imprisonment,” he gritted. “The mind flayers are the only ones I have to thank for my freedom. They gave me a gift—the strength to take back my own life. I’m embracing this power… And you should, too.”

Áine gave him a skeptical look, even understanding somewhat where he was coming from. “You’ll embrace being a mind flayer then? Once the tadpoles decide to pop?” she asked with doubt evident in her voice. 

“Who knows what we may find when we locate the source?” he suggested. “Perhaps there’s a way to keep them dormant. Who could say? Simply consider it.”

“Fine,” Áine said, in part just to get him off her back about the tadpoles. Every so often she saw this villainous side of him and she supposed it came from a place of being afraid to return to his imprisonment. That, she could fully understand. She just didn’t see eye-to-eye with him on where his mind found solutions to that fear. 

Her eyes fell on a silver handle sticking out of the pocket of his trousers, the ornate design of the metal a touch familiar. “Is that a mirror?” Áine asked.

Astarion looked a little startled, following her gaze and sighing. “The tadpole hasn’t muted all my vampiric aspects. I already knew that, but I occasionally find myself hoping that its influence will flux and grant me more indulgences,” he admitted.

She frowned. “Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?”

“Petty vanity?” he supplied, giving her a dismal look. “Of course I miss it.” Áine smiled at his choice of words, her smile saddening as he continued to admit in his blood-drunk stupor, “I haven’t even seen this face since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

“What color were they before?” she wondered.

She regretted her question as soon as he was at a loss for an answer. “I…don’t remember,” he said. “My face is just a dark shape in my past. Another thing taken from me.” Astarion looked at Áine, his brows furrowing as he saw the speculative look in her eyes. “...What?”

“I’ll be your mirror,” she said simply. “What do you want to know?”

He was touched. It was an embarrassing sensation to experience, but experience it he did, and with her specifically time and time again. Astarion’s expression was open, almost vulnerable, as he said, “I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see.”

Áine smiled and tilted her head. He felt naked under her gaze, and not in the sort of way that had come to feel normalized regardless of his feelings and desires. This felt new, disturbingly intimate if intimacy could take any form other than the carnal variety, which he doubted.

“Well,” she said, “the first place my eyes go are your eyes. They’re piercing. And would have always been, I imagine, red or otherwise.”

Astarion fought down a smile, forming it instead into a smirk. “Oh? Go on.”

Áine chuckled, her eyes tracing over his jawline, the sweep of his elven ears. By following her gaze, he could almost put a form back to the faceless shadow in his mind’s eye whenever he tried to picture his own appearance. His own identity. “Then I notice the sweet way your hair curls against your ears,” she said. 

“Do we truly need to wax poetic?” he huffed. “Just tell me I’m beautiful and get it over with.” She didn’t compliment with boilerplate material and based on that it was clear she was truly looking when she saw him. He felt like a schoolboy squirming under her gaze. 

“And that, er, interesting mole on your cheek draws the eye,” she suddenly said, laughing at him when he cast her a horrified look. “Kidding.”

“Very funny,” he griped, waving her off as he turned around to walk back to his tent. 

“Hey, Astarion?”

He gave an exaggerated sigh and turned to look at her over his shoulder. “What?”

Astarion found Áine looking unexpectedly doting when he took her in, her expression warm as she nodded and said, “You are beautiful.”

“I know, darling,” Astarion huffed, making Áine laugh as he proceeded back to his tent and succeeding in obscuring the reaction he had to those words falling from her perfect lips. Like she’d meant them. He’d been called beautiful by thousands of mouths, some well-meaning and some not kind in the slightest. His shell was all he was truly worth. Yet something stirred when Áine said it. It was obvious from their every interaction that she wasn’t immune to his charms but, although he refused to admit it, he wasn’t immune to hers either.

She stayed up that night again to sing for them, once again demanding that everyone go settle into bed before she started. Her tone always felt similar to a mother shooing away her children with the promise of returning with a bedtime story which, to be fair, was part of her joke.

Astarion lay in his tent, still quietly flustered from his interaction with her earlier. His inebriated state had passed and now he was simply fatigued as one might be after a large meal. He listened hard to the silence across the camp until the soft sounds of her lute began to punctuate the air, her voice swirling up to meet them in due time with the lyrics to a ballad. His eyelids fluttered shut as he let her voice wash over him, his stomach simultaneously turning at the sensation of his walls lowering, even for a moment in solitude.

She was perhaps halfway through her song when a rustle in some nearby brush disturbed Astarion’s reverie. His eyes opened and he remained still, listening. He heard the light tap of something’s paws outside in the dirt. Astarion sat up and shifted toward his tent door, parting the fabric to peer out as his body coiled, ready to lunge if needed.

Outside, he saw the owlbear cub they’d first spotted running around the goblin camp, chased around by a couple of the little drunks celebrating on the steps of the ruined temple. It was making its way toward Áine at the fireside, still singing and not noticing the creature. 

Astarion was preparing to leap from the shadows of his tent and intervene when Áine sensed the creature behind her and turned around to look. And when she did, Astarion saw that her face was streaked with tears set aglow by the campfire’s light. 

“Oh,” she said when she saw the owlbear cub, her fingers stilling on her strings. “Hello.”

The cub stopped, shuffling its paws and giving a meek little hoot. Astarion had frozen on seeing the state of Áine’s eyes, relaxing only slightly when he gathered that the cub wasn’t hunting for prey. At least not yet. 

Satisfied with the cub’s timid nature, Astarion’s eyes moved back to the bard’s face, bewildered at the sight of her—he could see the wet trails spanning from the rims of her reddened eyes to the base of her neck, but her voice hadn’t shaken once. Was this normal for her? Was this why she wouldn’t sing in front of anyone? But why was it happening at all?

As he traced back through their earlier conversation, wondering idly if he’d said something that may have upset her, he watched her lean down toward a bowl of meat scraps they’d set aside for Scratch during dinner, pluck up a leftover strip, and toss it to the cub, who gobbled it up the moment it landed with an appreciative grumble. 

Something startled it then and the cub scampered away back into the shadows. Áine turned to watch it go, pensive as she wiped her cheek against her shoulder, her tears absorbing into the fabric of her shirt. 

In her mind’s eye, she saw a different owlbear cub of decades past, fleeing into the brambles of its nest behind its mother, who ferociously bore down on Áine and several of her fellow trainees, weapons raised to slay the “monster” and prove themselves “ready” to serve. 

Áine got lost in the memory for a moment, brought about by the creature and by seeing Minthara again today. She paused to listen to the silent night air surrounding her before she rose to her feet and held her lute by the neck as she made her way to her tent, unaware of the wakeful crimson eyes that traced her every step.

Next chapter: Chapter 10, "What You Want" (NSFW)