I just want to be 20m tall

SFW GT trash, reblogs and thoughts | 20 | she/her | on and off sideblog

[jar-goddess]

Brief Encounter

A/N | Hey everyone! I've had this idea stuck in my head for a while after watching aot. It's just a bit of fear play and angst with one of my favorite characters from the show. English is my second language, so it may have some grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it!

CW | Attack on Titan fanfic, blood, death, canon typical violence, injury, angst, fearplay, dehumanization (using “it” to refer to one party).

Summary | Titan! Reader encounters an injured Levi.

Word count | 1,838 words

AO3 link

Blood.

The pungent smell of the metallic liquid fills your nostrils, making you gag. Red splats and broken bodies litter the forest blood, creating a wicked path towards the base of a tree. At the end of the path lies a figure covered in blood, unmoving. The figure, which you recognize as one of the creatures that glide through the forest like birds, is enveloped by blood stained green fabric. A hood covers its face, left hand clutching its right side and broken gear attached to its hips.

Curiosity sparks within you, urging you to take a closer look. Predator and prey, sinner and executioner, the nature of your relationship makes you hesitate on your approach. This is not the first time you've seen the hooded creatures in the forest, usually opting to stay out of their sight lest you anger them and give them a reason to slay you like the rest of your kind. But this time it's different. This time the creature is alone and injured, judging by the small red puddle under its right side. There is little to no chance that it will lunge at you, and so you make your move.

Heavy steps shake the ground as you approach the fallen figure, your tall frame rustling the trees’ highest branches. You sink to your knees besides the still unmoving figure but now, you notice, it's emitting shuddering breaths. From this close you can see the figure with more detail. Raven bangs peeking out from under the hood, pearly white skin covered in grime, uniform stained with dirt and blood alike, and left hand clutching its side to avoid bleeding out.

It's a shame that these creatures don't share your kind's ability to regenerate, often succumbing to their injuries after an encounter with one of your kind. Though most of the time the injured ones are carried to be taken care of by others of their herd, this one is completely alone, cut off from any creature that could help it. Sympathy floods your chest at the thought, you are alone too, in a world of mindless monsters.

Maybe you could help it, lure its peers to it so they can heal it. Maybe you should stay put and wait for them to find it on their own, to avoid being mistaken for another ravenous beast and getting slain for it. Maybe it was already dead, bled out while you thought of ways to aid a corpse. It's then that you notice that the shuddering breaths stopped a while ago. Your blood runs cold.

You extend your hand towards it, stopping a few feet away from touching it. You’ve seen what these creatures have done to your kind. You’ve seen what they are capable of. Indifferent to your internal debate, the figure remains still and quiet, harmless. Against your better judgment, your hand moves a little closer to the figure, slowly hovering into its space. Before you can make contact with its arm, pain shoots from the tip of your fingers up to your shoulder and steam rises from the clean cut that severed your fingers in half. Your hand recoils in pain and gunmetal eyes glare at you with hatred and disgust.

Not harmless, then.

You clutch your hand to your chest while it slowly regenerates, steam warming the underside of your jaw as you stare at the creature. It looks tired, sickly white skin covered in sweat and eyes that threaten to close shut at any moment, but its eyes still burn with defiance and anger. There’s no way you’ll reach out to it again, knowing that even now, injured and tired, the small creature still has the strength necessary to slay you at any moment. The figure pulls back on itself and clutches its side with a wince, still pinning you with its sharp glare.

A loud bang goes off in the distance and a stripe of blue smoke paints the sky. Smoke. You've seen the creatures use the smoke to convey messages before, grabbing small steel cylinders from a pouch and stabbing them into flat nosed guns. The creature flinches at the sound, its features twisting in dread at the sight of the blue column of smoke in the sky. Retreat, judging by your previous experiences while stalking the flying creatures. They would leave without the broken creature that lay at your side. 

They couldn't leave, not without it. If they did, it would die alone on the forest floor, covered in its own blood and guts from its fallen mates. You had to do something. You couldn't leave it to die in the forest due to its injuries, a consequence of your kind's actions. Surely you could find one of the pouches that contained the smoke cylinders among the gore in the ground. You would need to find it and somehow hand it to the injured creature without losing more fingers in the attempt to aid it. With that goal in mind, you turn to the mangled corpses laying around and commence your search, registering the barely concealed flinch the injured creature gave at your sudden movement.

After rummaging through the red stained forest floor, you manage to find a blood soaked pouch containing several steel cylinders and a small gun tied to a detached waist. Hateful gunmetal eyes follow your every movement as you carefully extract the small purse from the corpse, avoiding reaping it open by sheer luck. Once the object is secured between your index finger and your thumb, you turn your attention back to the creature. Under your attentive gaze it recoils like a snake about to strike while its hand still clutches its side, its hand stained red and a bloody puddle bigger than before on the ground.

You hesitate for a couple of seconds, considering if aiding the creature is worth the struggle, but you have already taken the poison so you might as well lick the plate. Your hand extends towards it slowly, dropping the bloody pouch in its lap and retreating your hand a second too late before the silver blade nicks at your just regenerated fingers. You hiss at the sting of the now healing cut, but notice that this time the blade didn't go all the way through your fingers. 

The creature is dying. It’s slowly losing its strength to the cold embrace of death.

Glancing back at the creature you see its stunned face. It gawks at the bloody pouch in its lap and then looks up at you with suspicious eyes. You still yourself, hoping that the distrustful creature would take the gesture as a signal to relax. It doesn't, but with squared shoulders and a stiff posture it decides to occupy itself with what you have brought to it after getting tired of glaring at you for a while. It rummages through the pouch's contents before loading a small cylinder in the flat nosed gun with shaky hands. It points the gun to the sky and shoots. Purple smoke fills the sky above. It called for help.

The creature lets its arm fall to its lap, still holding the small gun with shaky fingers. It's growing tired as time goes by, a product of the dwindling quantity of red liquid flowing through its veins. With nothing else to occupy itself with, it goes back to glaring at you and you can't help but notice that this time it isn't eyeing you with mistrust, but with thinly veiled curiosity.

You should really go now that you have done what you could for it, but something compels you to stay by its side until its peers find it or the cold embrace of death claims it, whichever comes first. And so you stay by its side, curious gaze washing over you and purple smoke dissipating in the sky above your head. 

__________

Minutes go by and the creature's body relaxes, eyelids drooping, head lolling, slow breaths coming from its mouth. It's as if it's falling asleep, except you know that's not the case. The large puddle of blood underneath it and it's now bloodier hand relaxed on top of its injury confirm your suspicions.

It seems death won the race.

The creature's head falls as the strength leaves its body and your hand darts to catch it by the chin with the tip of your index finger. Its skin is soft, the weight of its head barely a whisper on your finger, reminding you of how fragile this creature really is with its small size and inability to regenerate any damage done to it. You have to control your strength to gently tip its head so you can look into its exhausted eyes without harming it. 

"Don't. Die."

The two words leave your throat in a raspy and guttural mess, evidence of its disuse. A sharp breath is all you hear from the creature as its eyes widen and its body stiffens completely. You stare into its surprised eyes while it rests its head in your finger, your thumb coming to gently smear a blood stain in its right cheek. 

"Levi! Leviiiii!" you hear a voice call in the distance, swishing sounds accompanying it as it grows closer by the second. This is my cue.

You retract your hand, the creature's head falling off your finger and snapping back to look at you when you stand up slowly, its disbelieving eyes following your every movement. Reluctantly you take a step back, watching as the creature tries to mouth something at you.

"Thank you." 

You break into a sprint, sinking deeper into the forest and barely managing to avoid being caught by the blades of one of its peers. You keep running, afraid of the promise of death carried by the swishing sounds that are following you as you run through the forest with your hand covering your nape. Just as the sounds grow nearer, you hear faint shouting in the distance. The swishing noises hesitate behind you and slowly faint into the background as you keep running from what you know would be certain death.

Even when you're sure that the creatures aren't following you anymore, you keep running, afraid of what could happen if they were still bent on hunting you down after seeing you beside their injured peer. Only when you have reached the broken down village that lies at the end of the forest do you stop and turn around. Now, miles away from the place where the brief encounter took place, you can't help but regret your choice of leaving the creature behind. Did it die at the end, in the arms of its peers and away from its home? Or did it survive, clinging to life with all its might?

I hope we meet again. It's all you can think of while you walk away from the forest, away from the injured creature that all but satisfied your curiosity of its kind, and wonder about their next excursion into your kind's territory.

[donnyanne]

initially scrapped this sketch but will prob repurpose laterrr

[not-in-your-walls]

G/T, But With Ghosts

Picture this. You are a borrower with ties to the world beyond. The ghosts of borrowers are unfortunately plentiful, and every once in a while, you may stumble upon the ghost of a human. Now normally you don’t mind being seen by them ‘cause normally they can’t physically interact with you, but the owner of the house who can also interact with ghosts is told by their ghost friend about the little people roaming about

OR

Borrower ghost and human! The borrower ghost is here because either they died here, or they are the ancestor of the family that currently lives here. Seeing they are a ghost, they don’t care if they are ‘spotted,’ but it’s all fun and games until the human who owns the place finally addresses the miniature ghost person. Or to the ghost, it still might be all fun and games because they have the opportunity to finally mess with a human. Borrower revenge if you will.

[averagegtenjoyer]

I really like when giants are infatuated with tinies in like a cute way. Small thing is adorable type of thing. Giants who “awww” audibly at tinies. Giants who dress their tiny up in little doll clothes. Giants with cuteness aggression squeezing a tiny just the slightest bit, holding back because if they don’t, their little friend will probably pop. I think theres a good opportunity for fearplay too with it yk. Having a giant see you as a cute little toy. Not knowing if their intentions are entirely pure when they call you “such a cute little thing”. God forbid you get called “cute enough to eat” or something. Idk jurst…. being cute to something big hehehe

[deviousdeliciousness]

G/T thoughts

You know what I really love in G/T?

This: The tiny's POV when they're thinking about all the things the giant could do to them without the tiny having any say.

This could be during fearplay or just the tiny's idle thoughts, yk?

Just, the tiny imagining all the ways the giant could hurt or subjugate or even end them, whether or not the tiny rationally knows that the giant would never do that to them.

The giant stroking against their back? It would be so easy for a fraction more pressure to be exerted to have them crushed.

A hand gently cupping the tiny in the giant's palm? A single clench of fingers into a fist would pulverize the tiny's fragile bones like they were nothing.

The tiny kept safe in the giant's shirt pocket? It would be so simple for the giant to forget them there, to make a single, casual move - an itch, even - that would painfully, fatally crush the tiny against the larger being's chest.

A shoe teasingly nudging the tiny's side on the ground? The sole of it could so quickly lift off the floor and come back down to stomp the helpless tiny beneath the heel of it.

Honestly, all this and more. I crave the drama it adds when the giant genuinely would never consider letting any of those things happen, so they don't understand why their tiny is still so afraid of them~

[entomolog-t]

Absolutely craving some g/t scenarios with long nails?? (Partially inspired by a convo with @clumsiestgiantess)

Like djkfgwk fearplay ?? The giant impatiently drumming their nails next to wear the tiny is hiding?? Or worse, against the side of the jar they've trapped the tiny in???

How much more unnerving would it be for the tiny to be held/poked/prodded by a hand with long nails?? A whole lot less soft and a whole lot more intimidating I'd assume 👀

But not just fearplay- the fluff??? The tiny taking their time painting intricate designs on the giants nails?? Holding their finger tip in their lap as the fuss over details arguably too small for the human eye to fully appreciate??

Or maybe a lil spicier?? Using the tip of one's nail to tilt up the tiny's chin?? Pinning them down with the nails ever so slightly digging in??? (Or slipping it underneath their shirt to pop off the buttons like a letter opener)

OR the pathetic hilarity of a giant being useless with their new set of nails. Like the giant struggling to pick up their debit card off a flat surface, begging the tiny for help while the tiny just teases them?? (Bonus points if the teasing results in one of the above scenarios)

[guaxinimraccoon]

Curious (and not very self aware) giant

[andtheyreonfire]

trope i'd like to see more? mmmmm being stuck with a giant while they're still in feral mode. the most pressing danger is over, but the larger doesn't recognize that. in fact, they're solely focused on you. being cradled to a chest with a clawed hand. held precariously between two fingers and inspected for injuries, pinned under the gaze of two massive, clouded eyes. trying to sneak away only to be met with a sharp, booming growl. all that stuff.

maybe some progress is made, and you're able to walk away long enough to retrieve some supplies, pretending like you don't hear a whine echoing behind you. coming back, and whatever new materials you have being sniffed curiously, cautiously. eventually, you settle down. neither of you are sleeping tonight. not the giant, clutching you to their chest or neck, ready to pounce at anything that so much as twitches towards you. certainly not you, flight-or-fight still roaring, both from the altercation and the presence of this behemoth. you can only pray the lucid, reasonable person you knew soon returns. but...

in the meantime, it is kind of nice to be cradled to a massive, warm chest. to know, like your own name, that anything that tries to harm you wouldn't be around to do so much longer.

[freshpoof03]

Liddol man 🥺

[tinyclownhours]

Drunk Giants

Imagine a tiny waiting up late for their giant to come home from their fun night out, only to have them arrive way later than they told them they would, completely wasted.

They’re stumbling around the apartment, calling out for the tiny while giggling to themselves. The tiny is unsure if they should answer. It’s the first time they’ve ever seen the giant this drunk… And while they know it’s them, and they’d never do anything to hurt them, accidents do happen…

However, they don’t get much time to overthink it as the giant spots them on the the couch. Their face shifts into utter delight and they practically throw themselves to where they’re sitting.

Before the tiny can react, they’re scooped up and peppered with kisses, the giant was happy to see their little buddy and more than willing to shower the frozen tiny with affection.

Despite being drunk, the giant handles the tiny like they’re the most delicate thing in the world, being mindful of how they’re holding them.

The tiny engages in some small talk, asking about how the evening was- only to be met by a slurred “it’s better now that I’m here with you~”, they ask how much the giant has had to drink- and they’re immediately silenced by the giant pair of lips that cover their entire face, they try to get the giant to put them down and go to bed- only to have them stand up and stumble to the bedroom with a giggle - “Yeah- hicc Yeah I think we should go to bed now…”

Not what they meant at all…

The tiny is unable to do anything as their giant carries them off to the bedroom, snuggling them between their cheek and the pillow as they yawned. The smell of alcohol was strong in their mouth. The tiny tries to ignore this as the giant nuzzles them gently into the pillow like a cat.

They can’t really move. And they can tell that their giant has fallen asleep. They sigh as they try to get comfortable. Oh well. At least the giant will feel the karma tomorrow morning when the night of drinking catches up to them.

[entomolog-t]

June is a simp.

----

SCREAMS INTO A PILLOW

I LOVE THEM.

I have had this stupid thing in my wips since PRE Valentine's Day and I have finally finished.

Getting better with clothing and folds, but frankly it only makes sense 20% of the time 🙃 Also enjoy me dressing Aedes in progressively sluttier more breathable outfits everytime I post him.

[wertyurt123-deactivated20250526]

Cutie 😊

[guaxinimraccoon]

Commission I did for @rosesilvermoon of Conner Kent protecting a tiny Tim Drake

I had a BLAST doing this, I forgot how much I liked super heroes omg thank you so much for commissioning me!!

[belethlegwen]

What is a niche aspect of G/t that you dearly love that you don't get a chance to really talk about?

How it reflects on self-image.

I think that's the niche one that I don't talk about enough, though I bring it up a little bit in my works. The idea that, particularly in most media where you aren't used to being at the perspective you're suddenly in (you're small around people who are bigger, or big around people who are smaller, and it's something you've either never experienced before or haven't experienced much) how that will change how you see yourself.

Melanie in The Rescue for example has existing concerns about her appearance and how people see her to begin with, and that becomes wildly amplified when someone small is nearby. She covers her mouth while she's eating, she tries to keep her head and face pointed up and away when she's feeling extremely self-conscious.

If you hate the idea of constantly being noticed, judged, critiqued, scrutinized, etcetera, then suddenly being a Giant to someone else/other people has to be fucking hell. Any issues you have with your self-image normally aren't exactly put aside when your face is the size of a movie-screen and you know people's eyes don't usually come with those lovely hollywood-glam filters they put over actors in film.

As a Giant are you now more worried about being in the way? About being a problem for people? About causing damage or harm accidentally? Or are you being pressured to do more, be more simply because of how other people see you?

On the flip-side of that, if you're suddenly small, do you feel much more vulnerable? Do you feel like you're under significantly more threat? Have you lost a feeling of control that you desperately needed to keep a sensation of being safe?

Do you feel disposable? Do you feel useless? Are you more of a burden now than you were before, so reliant on others in a world that isn't built to help you? That might not feel like it's even interested in helping you?

Do you feel invisible? Easily forgotten? If you were used to being the center of attention before, does this absolutely shatter that or suddenly make that lifestyle feel like a waking nightmare? \

Do you feel like you're not enough?

If you were having those issues and feelings before, how are they amplified or changed now? How are they messed with, skewed, possibly erased in some cases?

I try to bring a good bit of these perspectives into my writing where I can, but it can be exhaustingly introspective and feel extremely heavy both to read and to write, but I can't say that I'm not fascinated by it.

Thank you so much for the ask, love! <3

[smol-and-scared]

Concept:

Tinies that cannot speak or understand language at all. They're still intellegent, they just never evolved the capacity for language because large societies are discovered and do not survive.

When a human has them cornered, the tinies can't beg or shout, so... they hiss. It's meant to imitate a snake and is supposed to be threatening. (It does actually work on most of the predators they encounter)

But for humans, it just sounds like a bottle of soda being opened... But weaker, smaller and somehow less threatening. Often times, this ends up backfiring: The human hears their weak little hisses and instantly feels responsible for the tiny, helpless person they've terrified.

Meanwhile, the (absolutely traumatized) tiny is trying to figure out if the human is calling their bluff, or if humans are so powerful and terrifying that they just... Think snakes are cute???

[cat-egg-gt]

Too many ‘normal’ people in g/t stories I think.

Give me a germaphobe human that loses their mind finding out a borrower has committed the ultimate sin (walked on their counter)

Give me deaf borrower who thinks their being quiet while borrowing, and the human just plays along, pretending they don’t hear all the noise they’re making

Give me autistic giant who holds a human captive simply so they have someone to infodump to

Give me human with visual and auditory hallucinations that just thinks the little guy they’ve seen running around their house is a hallucination

This isn’t even mostly about representation, I just think applying these to the g/t dynamic makes an even more interesting dynamic

[rose7420]

Astarion BG3 G/T Part 2

Astarion and Tav investigate why she shrank. Tav later makes questionable choices while intoxicated.

“How about this spell?” Astarion points out looking down at Gale’s book. 

You lean over on his shoulder to look down at the book and shake your head. “That’s Enlarge and we’ve already tried that.” You huff, crossing your arms. It's been a day since your height has been severely diminished to two inches—courtesy of Astarion pulling out a tape measure from his pack. Being so tiny is exhausting; everywhere you used to be able to get to in under a minute takes several moments longer and quite more energy than it ever had. You’ve certainly taken more naps than ever, not to mention every sound wakes you up from slumber as you fear becoming a creature's next meal. 

Even now your eyes are heavy and you fight not to topple over. 

‘I’m afraid this condition will have to wear off on its own.” Gale interrupts, coming to stand beside Astarion as he looks at the both of you. He’s hinted at this before when he first laid eyes on you. 

At the time, their group leader clothed in an embroidered handkerchief Astarion had stolen from a merchant. You’d looked pathetic with your hair soaked and still shivering. It was quite annoying how cold you were all the time now despite the warm clothes Astarion had managed to make in a matter of a couple of hours. You were impressed with the detail of his stitching and swiftness. Not to mention how the clothes seemed to fit you almost perfectly. 

You look at Gale’s hand as he carefully holds something. “What's that you got there?” 

“Dinner for you, I figured you were hungry.” He reaches out a pointer finger, balancing a plate steaming with bread and some sort of meat. You graciously accepted, puzzled by how Gale had catered to your needs quickly. Truly everyone had, save Karlach. The tiefling so scared of hurting you that she only risks a mere glance your way. You’ve tried to ease her nerves and reassure her you'll be okay but it doesn’t seem to help. Gale presses an equally tiny fork into your hands, the small scrap of metal almost lost in the ridges of his fingerprint. He leans back and crosses his arms. 

 Gale clears his throat and pointedly looks at Astarion. The latter is hyperfocused on the book he holds. “Go take up space somewhere else Gale. Don’t you have some magical artifact to eat?” You kick Astarions’s neck for the quip with a booted foot. You don't even think he feels it since he doesn’t even flinch. 

“I think it’s best for everyone if I take Tav while you find something to eat. Away from here, far away.” Gale adds. 

Astarion rolls his eyes. “Afraid I may find you appetizing? Even at death’s door, I’d have to mull over that one.”

Gale rolls his eyes and leans over to take you into his hands. Astarion leans away quickly, making you stumble and hold on to his necklace and your plate for dear life. You glare up at him even though he can’t see you doing so. 

“Go on Astarion, Tav certainly won’t do you in for tonight.” You blush at the implication of his words. Usually, Astarion feeds from you but in your reduced size you couldn't offer him more than a drop. 

You feel his shoulder tensing under you as you eat your meal. You gently pat his neck, “I’ll be ok here for a while. You need to eat too.”

He sighs and reaches up to take you off his shoulder, his fingers are cold yet gentle as they wrap around you. He’s still reluctant as he places you in Gale’s outstretched palm. 

“Be safe!” You shout as he stalks off into the woods. An answering grumble is all you get in return. 

When Astarion returns later that night with the moon high he hears raucous laughter. He feels refreshed from the deer privy to his hunger. But his main worry is Tav and ensuring she’s okay. Leaving her with Gale hadn’t eased his worries but he knew he posed more of a threat the hungrier and weaker he got. And he couldn’t for some reason bear the thought of Tav being a victim of an unfortunate accident of his. Earlier, she’d fallen off his shoulder. He’d barely managed to catch her as she’d tumbled off in a doze. So he expects her to be deep in slumber. 

He couldn’t be more wrong as he approaches the blazing fire and sees the tiny figure running around it while carrying a stick taller than them.  

The rest of the crew is encouraging the behavior doubled over laughing or chanting nonsense as Tav parades around. Usually with the commotion and liveliness, he’d retreat into his tent, but his worry grows increasingly with Tav so small and close to a fire. So he opts to sit, placing a blanket down as he crisscrosses on the ground. He scoffs at the situation. 

His eyes keep tracking Tav as they sprint and he knows they must’ve drunk something. 

He looks around taking in the group of lunatics he calls his own. Even Karalach doesn't seem to be holding back her excitement as she claps. Gale and Wyll are clapping and chanting. Shadowheart bent over laughing, even Lae’zel has a slight smirk on her usually grim face. 

He jolts when he feels something run into his boot. He looks down and it’s none other than Tav. Her face flushed red as she stared up at him. His stomach flips at the tininess of her standing there with a huge smile on her face. “Astarion’s here!” She cheers and manages to scale his boot, even with it on its side in his crisscrossed position. 

“Well hello Darling, it  seems you’ve been busy.” He smirks as he extends a hand to prevent her from falling. A part of him wants to scoop her up and feel her small weight in his palms but he refrains. 

That is until she clumsily climbs up his trousers, wobbling at his knee. His reflexes are fast, but not fast enough to catch her as she falls between his legs. He panics thinking she's injured herself until giggles sound. 

She’s giggling 

“Tav?” He says, eyes gleaming with amusement. How much had she drunk? Even a simple shot would have had her intoxicated. 

“You’re so big… like a mouse. No that’s not right. Mouse? Mountain?” She garbles.

Astarion looks up expecting to see the rest of them staring blatantly, only to find half of them passed out and the other half gone. He assumes retreating to their tents. He directs his gaze back at her and becomes very aware of how much he towers over her. Especially at this angle. 

“Okay Little Mouse, bedtime.” He says as a warning before his hand sweeps her up. Feeling her tiny body pressed against him sends another wave in his stomach. He has no clue why he’s reacting like this. Perhaps it's simply the power of holding someone so small and knowing their life is in his hands. 

Certainly no other reason. He hasn’t the time for relationships or finding love. Besides, who’d want to shackle themselves to a vampiric elf like him? He’s too broken for that.

But the way Tav makes him feel loved and cares for him, despite their banter… gives him hope. Foolish hope that there’s a shard of possibility that he is lovable.

He sighs opening his hand to find Tav curled up there, sound asleep. 

Perhaps it's selfish of him, but he lets himself indulge in her drunken closeness. Eventually, she’ll realize how awful and detestable he is. 

But this now… this is nice.

The morning follows and you wake up with the worst, god-awful headache. The memories fly back into your head. Karlach in her already-drunken stupor had offered you a cap-full of mead. It had all gone downhill from there. You faintly piece together running with a stick and then into something. It's then you notice the presence around you. You’re upon something soft and curled into a shoulder? 

You rub at your bleary eyes and see the tufts of silver hair. Your eyes widen realizing it's Astarion whose neck you curled upon the entire night. You shiver, not from the coldness of his skin but the mere fact he let you sleep near him while he meditated. It’s not long till he begins to stir, and you clutch onto the blanket draped over you, finding it sweet that he thought of you in such a small gesture to ensure you stayed warm by his side. Yet his movements as gentle as they may be to him are tumultuous to your shrunken form. It's strange in a way since you’ve only ever known him to be sly and sneaky due to his roguish nature. 

“Astarion!” You shout trying to remind him you’re there.

 At the sound of your voice, his movements halt and his hand comes to cup around you but pauses. “Apologies. May I pick you up?” His sleepy, rough voice sends tingles down your spine.

With permission, his long fingers snake around you, gold ruby ring glinting in the sunlight. Your head pounds with the movement and brightness. You massage your eyes and temples to rid the ache. Opening them you find his giant pale face inches from yours, red eyes openly staring back at you.

Astarion smiles knowingly. 

“I’m never drinking again.” You sniff yourself, “Ugh and I need a shower.” 

“Shall I douse you in the stream you plunged into before?”

“You have your entire life to be an ass, why don’t you take a day off bloodsucker?”

“Quite the charmer… Come on I can’t go on all day with your stench. I much prefer your natural bouquet.”