#If nothing else this is just the 'why is Doom like that' list

[doomspiral]

Doom's Movie Rec List

Some of these are bangers, some of these are the worst thing I have ever seen in my life, but I think they are all worth watching and enjoying one way or another. Sometimes the enjoyment is cringe and sometimes its staring at a wall for three hours. <3

The seventh seal (1957)

Classic chess game with Death film, I presume the entire thing is Bergman staring into the soul of the viewer in dead silence until you can read his mind.

The cabinet of Dr. Caligary (1920)

Strange, lurching, I watched this in German without knowing enough to keep up and I believe my confusion added to the experience.

Atomic blonde (2017)

This is my favorite movie. This is the one that I can't stop rewriting in my fics. I can't get the "lies" soliloquy out of my mind. My soul is tied to this fillum. Hot insane woman does a lot of violence, kisses women, beats up a guy who truly deserves it. Iron Curtain Spy Nonsense.

Hackers (1994)

Am I depressing you? Good, watch Hackers to experience child-like wonder and also see a grown man skateboard down a foggy street in the middle of the night to harass the homosexual teenagers (and slim shady) he's beefing with.

The core (2003)

This is not a good movie. But there is a little freak in there named "Rat" who I am obsessed with.

Angel's egg (1985)

This is the kind of movie where you have to not try to figure out what's going on and instead let it take you by the hands, just experience it, just keep your mouth shut and your mind at rest and you can consider the implications afterward when its safe.

Princess mononoke (1997)

I watched this as a child and saw those beasts dissolve into bloody worms and apparently that left a lasting mark on my brain.

Nausicaä of the valley of wind (1984)

I actually read the manga for this one but this is a movie rec list, so please go watch this for the death and rebirth vibes, and some mild foeyay yuri.

Invasion of the body snatchers (1978)

Horror movie that's odd and disturbing and clearly betraying some better dead than red fears, worth it for the horrible despicable freakish noise the guy makes at the end while pointing at the viewer.

Strange days (1995)

Please read up on this before watching it, it revolves around a fictional, then-futuristic critique of the adult film industry, HEAVY focus on the capitalistic dehumanization and devaluing of human life.

Underworld (2003)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters. Core memory.

Blade (1998)

Bad asses in leather fighting monsters but maybe you need a break from how white this whole movie list is overall. That's okay, I see you, this vampire flick fucks severe.

Fright night (1985, 2011)

The first movie is pretty campy (fun) but the remake dug into my actual stressors and fears and scared the lights from my eyes for a day or two. Welcome... to FrrrighT NighT.

Dracula (1931, 1992)

First movie is a classic, this is thee one with the guy crawling around like a lizard and there's armadillos for no reason. The 90's version has no business being as deranged as it is and for this it is a core personality trait movie.

Fast&furious: Tokyo drift (2006)

Not sure I would say this is peak cinema but it's a racing movie that falls in line with the F&F tradition of being clearly in love with the entire premise, location, and cast. Rent free.

Drive (2011)

I like this movie because it is not about the guy getting the girl, it is about doing the right thing every single time because that's what it takes to be a real human bean. being. whichever. I was so obnoxious about this movie when I watched it with my now-ex gf that I wish I could siphon the memory of it out of her brain, because I kept pointing at actors I knew.

Green room (2015)

This is the best punk parable I can think of. Litany against not reading the room, litany against being the hero when there's no one to save, litany against thinking shared trauma is gonna get you any pussy.

Lords of chaos (2018)

I'm obsessed with the band Mayhem there is no other explanation.

There will be blood (2007)

WILD WEST TOXIC YAOI. I'm not apologizing for this summary and I'm not elaborating.

Butch Cassidy and the sundance kid (1969)

I don't know. I watched this in the wee hours of the morning with my best friend and actually cried about it. Doomed criminals and a famous final stand.

Saw (2004)

I used to watch Saw movies when I lived in the trailer park while hiding from my family in a neighbor's place so I don't know if these movies are good or if I needed to watch tortureporn to relax bcs the roof leaked on my bed when it rained? But I think everyone should at least watch the first movie or how are you going to play any games?

Chernobyl diaries (2012)

I walked out of this movie shaking head to toe and couldn't think about anything else for months. I don't think I'd be as scared now but I can't say if that's because I'm not 16 anymore. Warning against going into a dangerous situation with a guy you met off Craigslist.

Constantine (2005)

Demon hoards, evil angels, catholic bullshit, 9/10.

The neverending story (1984)

Well after all that let's reinstate some whimsy into our souls again bcs this is the Jim Henson Power Hour. This one is just a solid entry point into "puppets are fun and practical effects are my best friend".

The dark crystal (1982)

My babysitters put this on for me as a bed-time story when I was five (5) years old and I do not believe I slept, I think they regretted this and had to tell my parents what they did. But now I will never stop making Skeksis noises at people I love.

Labyrinth (1986)

Y'know the phenomenon of alt teens and preteens dating young adult men who are total and complete losers, including actual band members? It's not that this pre-dates any of that, but I believe it does a good job representing it through the lens of a modern fairy tale. Like when you watch this you have to realize this is wish fulfillment for people who want to be Sarah because their age-gap goth boyfriend in the real world is a manipulative disappointment.

Pacific rim (2013)

Love letter to the mecha and kaiju genre(s). Makes no sense, compels me though.

Eurotrip (2004)

This is the movie "Scotty doesn't know" is from. Some high schoolers fuck off to Europe and have the most misadventure possible. It's somehow exactly the kind of cringe humor you would expect from the 00's without being cruel or overly disgusting. I used to watch a lot of really bad 00's comedies and this is a good one I promise. Scussie.

Hamlet (1996)

Personality point, I think this is the best version on film because the guy actually looks like how I envisioned Hamlet. Ignore your girl! Avenge your dad!

Advantageous (2015)

This movie goes in on the connection between race and class in a sci-fi future where you can change the former through predatory, dangerous cosmetic surgery.

Gravity (2013)

This is my go-to movie when I need to sob like a sick little baby. Space travel as a metaphor for motherhood, spaceships as the womb, scientists are the babies who left their babies back on earth. It's about what you give up in the name of fulfilling your human urge for the unknown.

All clear on the western front (2022)

Thee anti-war fillum. Very well done. I never recovered from one of the final scenes to the point I wrote a final paper on it. Without spoiling it, the Ending gave me the feeling of when you're a kid and you want to go play, but you're grounded and you fall asleep listening to your friends outside in the street. I hope this sentence ruins your life if you watch this movie.

Inglorious basterds (2009)

They lock some nazis in a theatre and set them on fire, good cinema.

Shadow dancer (2012)

Domhnall Gleeson in one of his classically pathetic twink roles but its about British imperial violence and Irish reactionary violence.

Logan (2017)

Good art film, a story about dementia, legacies, and why putting children in cages is fucking evil.

The batman (2022)

Weird art film, next question.

Joker (2019)

I do not care about the opinions of straight men who watch things uncritically, this is a good movie because of the depictions of poverty in the US. I don't believe this needed to be about the DC Joker this should have been a standalone art film about a mime.

Dragonheart (1996)

Medieval era dragon nonsense, I will never be convinced this is a bad movie.

Sleeping beauty (1959)

Personality trait was rooting for the dragon.

Snow dogs (2002)

I'm not defending this one it stands on its own, please watch this movie if you wanna see Cuba Gooding Jr. bite a husky's ear so it'll stop ruining his life.

Luck of the irish (2001)

This movie is genuinely so bad I have considered it some kind of hate crime since the day it came out, because I watched this the day it was a direct-to-TV movie. I think I was too young to feel insulted but I was deeply, deeply bemused.

Black swan (2010)

There is a woman inside her and she is trying to crash the plane. Can I get away with calling this foe-yay yuri also? I'm going to.

I, tonya (2017)

Sufjan Stevens' song "Tonya Harding in Eb major" makes me so unreasonably emotional, so one day I watched this movie and then the film of the 1988 Calgary Olympics in the living room while all of my housemates had to sneak around in the dark. This is just a solid movie about ambition, betrayal, abuse, tragedy, and having to get over it and move on because you're not dead yet.

Phantom of the opera (2004)

Whatever was going on in Labyrinth, this is the adult version. Weird man in a sewer possessing a soprano. I think there's some gender happening here but it gets a little lost under the love(?) triangle.

A knights tale (2001)

Just go watch some more medieval nonsense, it's good for you, its fun.

White chicks (2004)

I'm not defending this choice, it's a good movie. "You were thinking it" "Yeah but you said it" there are some phrases you could use to see if I had been replaced with a body double and this is one of them.

Heathers (1988)

Ouughhgh ough oh. Personality trait. Watched this because I kept listening to the musical soundtrack, love both but agree the themes are much tighter in the movie. This is just a fun schlock to tell teens life is stupid and difficult and bad things will happen, so don't abandon your friends.

Priscilla queen of the desert (1994)

Classic homo fillum, if you wonder why I write Gilbert Like That it's partially because of the mean little fruit from this movie. It's about the Aussie drag scene and who belongs in the queer community.

300 (2006)

I'm not sure that I would call this a "good" movie, but it's a classic as far as I'm concerned. This is the "THIS IS SPARTA" movie.

The foreigner (2017)

I actually don't remember the plot of this one too solidly but the suspense and action were solid, and I enjoyed the setup. Good for if you wanna be really pissed off for two hours.

Conan the barbarian (1982)

Look at me. Look into my eyes. You're going to watch this movie. You're going to think about the wheel of pain and you're going to go wow, this is so stupid. Don't look away I'm not done. You're going to watch this movie and then you're going to get a couple of paper towel tubes and find someone to beat the shit out of each other with the tubes.

Law abiding citizen (2009)

I don't know I think watching this movie changed my brain chemistry in very special ways. Guy fucking loses it and becomes a problem for his local community by kidnapping and torturing people who killed his family. Cathartic and vile.

Black dog (1998)

:D DO YOU WANNA WATCH AN ACTION MOVIE ABOUT AN 18-WHEELER?

The hunt for red october (1990)

Almost forgot this one. Lithuanian Submariner off the shits, goes rogue, I'm not sure what accent Sean Connery is going for, I get the impression he just showed up to gigs and did whatever he wanted.

[bhaalble]

Back on my Wyll script doctor because I was talking about it with a friend. Specifically imagining a version of Wyll's big Character Choice that felt like it had some actual teeth.

Imagine a world where instead of a cartoon evil hot lady Mizora and Wyll's relationship actually had some complexity to it and like. some genuine push and pull which gives him temptation to stay. I just keep thinking about this 17 year old who his whole life wanted more than anything to be a hero, who got his chance to do something heroic and selfless and save the city from certain doom, and his reward is getting kicked out because he did it the "wrong way".

Imagine if instead of forcing his silence, Mizora instead comforted him. How unbelievably cruel of your father! Well...since you've nowhere else to go, why not stick with me? We make a pretty good team, as it turns out, and I can get you a whole list of monsters who need killing. Plenty of devils and demons loose in your world targetting all sorts of innocents. Our interests can keep aligning, and you get a place to sleep when you need it.

Wyll makes his peace with it, because he has nothing and no one. And Mizora's not GOOD maybe, not by Ulder Ravengard's definition. But she's fun. She delights in his growth. And she does certainly keep direct him at greater evils, devils who really do need killing. And if she spies on his every waking moment, well, she worries. If she sends him after the occasional innocent, well, she had people who she has to answer to as well. She's a devil, how much can he fault her for her nature? She's always seemed like she knew where the line was...

Karlach (and the player) express their doubts, of course, but for act one at least he's defensive. Yes, she punished him and he hates it and its miserable but....he was in breach of contract! She's NEVER gone outside its bounds, she's always stuck very closely to their agreement. Wyll, who wants so badly to trust others and believe everyone has the chance for good, can't find it in him to believe the worst even of a devil.

And Mizora is FOND of Wyll, loves him even in her way. As a cherished pet, as a trusted tool, as a best-laid plan. Never enough to choose his own well-being over her own agenda, never enough to see him as his own person. He's her little project, the long shot noble brat she gambled on when Tiamat decided to get too big for her britches. And it paid off! Wyll always pays off, currying her all the favor from Zariel she so desperately craves. And who are you, or anyone, to come between them? She's treated him well. As she's quick to remind him, she wanted him when no one else did, aided him while the rest of his city slept snug in their beds. And if Ulder Ravengard didn't want a son with a whiff of infernal, then do you REALLY think he'd want you with lovely horns and Avernus in your blood?

You discover his father's been taken. Beyond igniting a lot of old feelings, it brings up a question of succession. Of course, Florrick isnt giving up on him, but if not...there aren't currently any likely candidates to take over the Flaming Fists. Not trustworthy ones. Florrick will take the position, but everyone knows in the back of his mind Ulder never really stopped planning for it to be Wyll. With the city in chaos and a cult army on the rise, they may need an answer sooner rather than later. Wyll feels the call of the Gate, but knows just as well that Mizora wouldn't want him to return in such an official capacity.

For the first time ever the leash starts to chafe in a way he can't keep pushing through.

Act 2 rolls around. Mizora sends up the Warlock signal. After potentially some encouragement from the player, Wyll (NOT THE PLAYER. I DONT KNOW WHY ITS THE PLAYER IN THE GAME ITS WEIRD) hesitantly proposes that maybe, if he does this....they can do a renegotiation of his contract. Not break it, he assures her quickly! Just....reopen the terms, take a looks at the agreement. Maybe discuss an exit ramp? After all....I mean, neither of us truly thought I'd be doing this forever, did we?

Based on Mizora's reaction. Yeah she did.

But fine. She agrees. And Wyll's not mad that it turns out you're rescuing her, not a nameless "operative" for Zariel. He would've done that on his own had she asked. Its the fact that she apparently didn't feel like being honest, that she let him fret and worry about potentially handing Zariel back some runaway for basically no reason. Its the fact that she came here to check in on the cult that abducted his FATHER just to see if Zariel could make any use of them. And its the fact that she seems surprised and annoyed that ANY of this bothers him.

All this builds, of course, to the final confrontation. The basic elements are the same. Mizora outside the coronation (this time needling at Wyll, "I'll be at camp if you're not too high and mighty to consort with the likes of me anymore"), Ulder tadpoled and fighting it. Mizora makes her offer. I can end the contract now, and you're free to go running after daddy (who won't want you btw! not like I do!). You'll lose all your powers, all my aid, all those juicy quests to chase down the greatest monsters in the hells. Take on your father's job and settle in for a life of misery and compromise and only doing as much good as the nobles will let you. Or: pledge yourself to me, eternally. I'll give you a boatload of new powers and eternal life to boot, so long as you serve as my sword and shield.

From there I think three endings branch out, and with it three classes for Wyll. If he stays with Mizora, accepts a relationship where he will never be an equal or a free agent in exchange for the affirmation he wants so badly from his father, he remains a Warlock, with some juiced stats and extra spell slots, along with shiny new gear. If he pledges to follow in his father's footsteps, he instead becomes an Oath of Devotion paladin, pledging himself in service to Tyr, if with a sense of doomed finality. The Blade of Frontiers is officially retired, and along with it any identity he has outside of being his father's son. Or the third path, break the contract without taking his father's role. He will look for his father, yes, but whether or not you find him he's going back to his roots, travelling around to do some good in the world (as the Blade of Frontiers) or kicking ass in the Hells with Karlach (as the Blade of Avernus). In this timeline he becomes a fighter, with a default preference for Eldritch Knight.

What's important: if he breaks his contract then Mizora is NOT hanging around camp. She will leave in a fury, accidentally bound by her own word to withdraw her influence completely if he breaks his contract. She may still approach the player some night to sleep with the player, framed for high approval/romanced players and her trying to take something back from Wyll. But Wyll will have to learn how to define himself without her breathing down his neck, without keeping her happy dominating his every thought. Its nervewracking, and even lonesome at times...but its freedom. And, perhaps, that's worth a little bit of lonesomeness.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo teasing the heck out of you after realizing you get flustered by his eyes

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,3k

Synopsis: After working with smooth operator Gojo Satoru for years, he slowly but surely began to realize what your true weakness is: his bright blue orbs. And he wouldn't be Satoru Gojo if he wouldn't use that against you...

Warnings: none really, language maybe. Shout out to the anon who requested this! I know I already posted it yesterday, but my Tumblr completely broke down at some point and I had to write support multiple times so this got lost in translation somehow...Hope you still enjoy <3

Tag List: @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @dazaisdick @sanicsmut @arehzhera @mynahx3 (if you wanna get added to my permanent tag list leave a comment to let me know)

Urgh, why does this man have to look so shamelessly good? Your eyes dart towards him when his skilled fingers are about to take his blindfold off. You truly hate Satoru Gojo and the way he carries himself with so much self-consciousness. Yes, Satoru Gojo is one of those men who know exactly how good they look and how to use this power over weak people.

Weak people like yourself.

You aren’t even able to realize how blatantly you stare at him before his eyes meet yours, cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Enjoying the view, (y/n)?”

Oh, how much he loves the blush that immediately turns your cheeks red, whole face screwed up in pure embarrassment. You’re like an open book, so easy to read that he just can’t help himself. Over the last months of working together with you as teachers at Jujutsu High, he slowly but surely began to realize the power he has over you. How your gaze always wanders towards him, eyeing him up and down. How you seem to automatically walk his direction without even noticing. Yes, it is clear to everyone else that you are attracted to him.

And you are miserable at hiding it.

“Don’t be ridiculous”, you huff, shielding your eyes from his intense orbs.

Fuck, he caught you staring again. You swore to yourself to stop this madness. Yes, you are a grown woman, a truly skilled teacher at Jujutsu High. Seeing a good-looking man shouldn’t leave you all flustered. What about Kento Nanami, Suguru Geto? Why are you able to act professional around all these ridiculous gorgeous men?

Because they don’t have those eyes.

Oh, those striking blue orbs that seem to hold the entire oceans of earth, the eyes that shine like diamonds in sunlight. As soon as you catch a glimpse of him without his blindfold or even better sunglasses you are completely doomed.

And he knows. Satoru Gojo definitely knows. And that’s exactly why he uses every little bit against you whenever possible.

“You’re staring again”, he purrs.

You shake your head vehemently. Stop this madness, you are too old to act like that! With a swift motion you turn on your heels, walking away from him as fast as possible while sweat runs down your forehead. Why the hell did he have to catch you again? How embarrassing, why do you have to act like a horny teenager? Satoru Gojo is nothing more than a beautiful man with way too much charm. What is so special about him?

“You’re walking the wrong way. Your students are waiting over there.”

You stop in your tracks. Please, let the ground break open and swallow you whole.

“Screw you”, you hiss under your breath.

-at training-

“You’re doing quite well today, (y/n). I’m impressed.”

You swing around elegantly, avoiding his attacks under any condition. You narrow your eyes over his dumb comment, gazing at him just long enough to witness how he’s taking his blindfold off.

Oh.

What a gorgeous man. That bright blue orbs that elevate the delicate features of his face so well, how they seem to match the sky above so perfectly. Satoru’s eyes surely have something no men else has. Is it charm, is it the infinite power he holds in those eyes? You can’t put a finger on it.

In fact, you aren’t even able to react when he sweeps you off your feel, back clashing against the hard floor underneath.

Ouch. You groan in annoyance, gazing up at him in distress. This…this was on purpose. That fucking asshole.

“You have some nerve”, you hiss through gritted teeth, face going completely red in the split of a second.

You look so lovely to his feet, whole face screwed up in anger while a wave of embarrassment rolls over you without mercy. Yes, he caught you staring again. Why does it have to be so damn amusing to mess with you? But there’s something else…

Sure, he messes with Utahime and his students all the time just for the fun of it. Something about you is different, though. Yes, it’s not exclusively about laughing his ass off. He likes the way you blush under his gaze, how you react when he looks at you with his bare face. The way you aren’t able to control your emotions at all pulls on his heart strings in a way it shouldn’t.

“Need a hand?” he questions, stretching out his hand in front of you.

“Leave me alone”, you bark at him, smacking his arm away while standing up.

When will this madness finally end? Why can’t you just pull yourself together? You know Satoru Gojo for many years by now, you fought on his side so many times that you lost count. Why? Why on earth are you still not able to contain yourself? Why do you have to get all flustered when this jerk bats his eyelashes at you?

“It’s quite cute to be honest.”

“What?”, you mumble, turning away from his intense stare.

“The way I make your knees go weak just by taking my sunglasses or blindfold off.”

You swirl around, rage running through your veins. Did he really say that out loud? God, please let lighting hit and kill you right on the spot. Why…why did he have to say it like that? Your face feels hot like a thousand fires, it seems like you forgot how to talk.

“What, cat got your tongue (y/n)?”

He sneaks up on you, step by step nearer. Oh god, you feel like fainting. What the hell is happening here? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, eyes completely locked with his intense gaze.

“T-that’s…not true”, you stutter.

Within all the years you knew Satoru Gojo, it was never more than an innocent crush, never more than him teasing the heck out of you. But now he lingers above you, heat of his body so near that it feels like you’re burning alive. No, you never allowed your mind to wander this far, to imagine him this close. But now…

“Are you sure about that? Your body tells me differently. For example, the way your cheeks burn up…”

His fingertips brush against your cheek, gently caressing it.

“Or how your whole body trembles…”

He lets his other hand glide over your shivering arm.

“Oh, and the way your breath got stuck in your throat. What’s wrong, (y/n)? Did you forget how to breathe?”

His face draws closer, only inches away until…

You let out your shaky breath. He suddenly stops, only inches away from the heat of your lips.

“See, I told you I make you weak”, he purrs.

Oh god, lord have mercy. What are you supposed to do now? It seems like your mind went completely numbed, glossy eyes staring at him wide open. He is so close that you can smell him, so close that you can literally feel him. This isn’t about his eyes anymore, it’s about him. Satoru Gojo and the goddamn power he has over you, how you fold just by one glance of him.

“Well, I need to get going now. See ya, (y/n)!”

As fast as this sweet moment approached he is gone in the wind, already on his way back to Jujutsu High. You stay behind, glancing at his back completely bamboozled.

That asshole. He only played with you.

“I fucking hate you Satoru!”, you shout, running after him with your fist flying through the air.

“Nice try”, he comments, catching your hand mid-air.

“But I meant what I said, you really are cute. It’s just that I have a meeting in…oh, 30 minutes ago. Bye (y/n).”

With one last glimpse into his ocean blue eyes he’s gone. That jerk who sweeps you off your feet with his orbs only, the man that makes you feel like a child again.

You sign to yourself. Wow, you really are weak.

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

Can I request headcanons for all 2003 boys react to gender neutral human reader is completely at awe seeing him save them, they immediately thanks him & told him he was so cool when he was fighting?

Thank You

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word Count: 720

CW: Gender-neutral reader, just a wholesome reaction with the turtles, count it as a first meeting kind of scenario. Enjoy!

———

Getting attacked by some goons wasn’t on your to-do list tonight, but unfortunately, it seems like the universe didn’t care for your plans. Casually walking down the streets from a late-night shift, you heard some guy call out to you. Turning around, you see an unsettling sight of a group of men coming towards you. Feeling your alarm bells go off, you were quick to run away, not wanting to give them the chance.

Yet they chased you anyways, and in a stare or panic, you tried to lose them by taking cover in an alleyway. Hiding behind a dumpster, you put a hand over your mouth and take deep breaths to calm yourself as you heard the man from earlier say, “Search the area, I saw them turn down here.” And you felt your heart sink.

As you awaited the oncoming doom, you suddenly heard something land on the dumpster you were hiding behind, making you jump and squeak. As you froze, you heard sounds of men grunting, yells and thuds. After a moment of silence, you peek out, and see a giant mutated turtle kick the last grunt into the wall, knocking him out.

Pushing back the shock, you stand up slowly and come out, watching as the turtle breathed heavily, looking around at his surroundings, making sure he got the last of them, before he turned to you. His eyes widened when he saw you staring in awe at him, and his first instinct was to say, “Don’t scream.”

Instead of screaming, as he had expected, he heard a small, “Thank you, you’re an amazing fighter.” You tilt your head to the side, a smile resting on your face.

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 Leo’s heart jumped, and he wasn’t sure why. The genuine ‘thank you’ and kind smile made him thankful he was here today to protect you. Getting thank you’s were hard to come by, but hearing it now made him slightly melt inside, it fed into his small hero-complex he has.

💙 He wouldn’t show it outwardly that it means a lot to hear, but will just offer a small nod, “Just doing what I do, please stay safe out here.” before he disappeared into the night, leaving you in awe and to think about this night for ages.

💙 He certainly thinks about you too, and watches throughout the night as well. Whenever he sees you after a late-night shift, he’s following to make sure you make your way home safe and sound.

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ Raph was a little caught off guard by the genuine ‘thank you’, and honestly wasn’t sure how to react entirely. He just kinda stared at you and went, “What?”

❤️ When you repeat yourself, he takes a deep breath and all he can say is, “It’s no problem, Dollface, now get home.” He takes to the rooftop and follows you home to make sure nothing else happens to you.

❤️ After it finally sinks in when he’s repeating the memory in his head, it kind of inflates his ego, and it becomes one of his core memories.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 Surprised by this, but smiles sweetly, “Hey, it’s no problem at all.” Donnie felt himself growing a little warm in the face by this expression of gratitude, especially since he’s just doing his job.

💜 He doesn’t receive a lot of gratitude for the things he does, so hearing it just feels so very nice. He would offer to help you home, as he wanted to make sure you were safe.

💜 Lots of small talk during the walk home. He waves goodbye to you from a rooftop before disappearing into the night, and everytime he sees you on each patrol he’s on, he’s greeting you and watching out for you.

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 That wide smile across Mikey’s face spoke volumes, “Hey! No problem dude! And you can thank my master for these skills!” He’s spinning his nunchucks, showing off and getting a small laugh out of you.

🧡 He’s more willing to introduce himself than his brothers and he’s offering to take you home. Once you agree, he’s talking about everything and anything.

🧡 When he has to go, he’s pretty disappointed, but he swears he’ll see you again one way or another. And he keeps that promise too. Whenever he sees you he’s sneaking up on you and playing with you. It’s always a good time.

[kjdkive]

it's always been you.

pairing: jungkook x reader (afab)

genre: slowburn, brother’s best friend

warnings: cursing, jungkook being so boyfie

summary: when you get stuck on a date with a total asshole and you need someone to pick you up who else are you gonna call in a new city where you only know your brother and his best friend.

a/n: if you actually like it, tell me if you want a part two cause im honestly thinking about writing one. and if you are gonna read it, you can tell me and i’ll put you in the tag list <3 and also you can always send me an ask if you have any idea for me to write. and also i got this from a “someone write this” tiktok but decided to put more of my stuff in it. if i find the user i’ll let you know

i hate men, i really do. i’ve been single for a while, for the same reason. don't get me wrong, men are really hot and sometimes smart, it's just my bad experiences with men that aren't helping. i moved to a new city for an internship and talking to my friends back home they convinced me to “put myself out there” that maybe “i’d find the one” as if i had time.

now that i think about it, i was so stupid for listening to them because now i’m here, stuck on a date with a total asshole i found on tinder. it was good at first, not gonna lie. i swiped right, we matched, he made sure to compliment me: call me pretty, beautiful, majestic even and we even had actual conversations. so i said “why not? what’s the worst thing that could happen?” 

the date was going well... until it wasn’t. we were talking about what we wanted to do with our futures which is a total important question on a first date. 

“i don’t know, i feel like if i get married i wouldn’t let my wife work, she has to take care of my kids, be grateful that i put food on her table and take care of me.” jisung, my date, said while trying to grab some pasta from his plate. 

i was shocked, i thought he wasn’t gonna be like that. “what do you mean? your wife is not your mother to take care of you and kids are a two-person job.” i told him. 

“oh god, don’t tell me that i just made angry your feminist heart.” he laughed “it’s true, though, what i’m saying. are you finished? let’s go back to my place.” 

“i’m not finished actually, and back to your place?” i asked him. 

“yeah, well, i paid for your food so the least you can do is go back to my place.” 

oh, dear god. what have i gotten myself into? but i really was not in the mood to get in a fight with a man that won't understand why what he's saying is totally wrong.

“uhm, i’d like to ask for dessert.”  i told him. 

 “but you'll have to finish it fast, i wanna go already.” he rolled his eyes. 

i ordered a chocolate cake just to make time while i excused myself to the bathroom and called my brother for help. “why are men always like this?” i ask myself while dialing my brother’s number. it's either they’re mysoginists or they’re cheaters. last time i got a cheater now i got a mysoginist. wow me. 

one ring, two rings, three, four, five… nothing. damn it. i call again, begging the universe for him to pick up the phone and come get me because i was scared to leave alone, i mean i am new in this city, i don't know the bad neighbourhoods and i am not too familiar with the public transportation here. also, this horrible guy was gonna be my ride back home but my brother doesn’t pick up and now i’m doomed.  

“fuck you, taehyung, wherever you are.” 

the only other person i knew in town was my brother’s best friend, who’s probably with him so i should call him because yeah that seems reasonable, right? but what if i bother him? what if he’s not with my brother and i called him for nothing? 

"hello?" i hear a voice from the phone. apparently, i'm so stupid i dialed accidentally.

"hi, jungkook, how are you? it's y/n."

"hey, are you okay? is everything alright?" he asked, sounding more aware, more awake.

"uhm, yeah, just... i went on a date with this guy but he turned out to be an asshole and he was supposed to be my ride back home so i was gonna ask you if taehyung was there with you so he can come pick me up."

"text me the adress and don't move from wherever you are."

"jungkook, don't—" and the sound of him hanging up made me not finish my sentence.

i text him the adress and put my phone back in my purse again, wash my hands and go back to the table where i see jisung on his phone and a piece of chocolate cake in front of him. i sit down and start eating it, really slowly, trying to make time until jungkook come get me.

"can't you be faster? i told you i wanna leave." jisung asked me.

"well, you know already i am a slow eater."

as i am biting the cake i hear a voice behind me.

"let's go now."

i turned around and it's him, jungkook. his outift was not helping, or his voice, or his tattoos, or his piercings, or his hair for how handsome he looked right now. it had been a while since i had seen him, he had less tattoos and longer hair.

"y/n, what the fuck?" jisung asks angrily as we both stand up.

but as i am standing up and getting near jungkook, jisung tried to grab me from the arm. "do not fucking touch her, you hear me?" jungkook told him, while grabbing me from both arms gently and getting me to stand behind him. and jisung sat down, defeated, not giving it enough importance to make this a problem.

jungkook took my hand and also took me out of the place, making us both walk to his bike in the parking lot.

"jungkook, thank you and i'm so sorry for that, i just didn't know who else to call, i know no one here."

"you don't have to apologize and neither thank me, it's alright." he said, giving me a sweet smile as he put a helmet on my head.

"thank you."

"what did i just say?"

i laugh. "you're right. okay but..." i see him already sat on his bike "can you not go so fast, it's my first time getting on one of these and i'm kinda scared, not gonna lie." i ask him while sitting behind him, putting my hands around his waist.

"just enjoy the ride, doll, nothing to worry about."

he doesn't give me time to respond because he's already putting his foot on the gas (if that's what you say about bikes, because i have no clue how these ones work) and i'm already cursing him out.

i feel the air hitting the little part of my face the helmet is not hiding, and i let myself rest on jungkook, hugging him tight, resting my head on his back and feeling safe. well, now this wasn't so bad. we stopped at a red light and i felt his hands caressing my legs. it felt good, really good. i couldn't lie how much i was enjoying this, how much i didn't want this moment to be over.

"would it be so crazy if i ask you to go faster?" i ask him.

the light turns green and i feel the speed already. i let out a squeal as i hug jungkook even tighter. i felt so alive.

and then it was over.

he parked and we both got off the bike.

i try to take off my helmet and as soon as i do i feel a pair of hands over mine "you don't take it off like that, silly." jungkook giggles.

"my hair must be a mess." i said, as i try combing it with my hands.

"you're more than alright, y/n, don't worry." he tells me, while he also runs his hand through my hair giving me butterflies.

butterflies... what?

"well, thank you."

"you're more than welcome. but this is where i go back."

"don't you wanna come upstairs? have a drink or something with me. i haven't seen you in a year." that came out faster than expected and i don't know from where this courage is coming from. i'm not usally like this with jungkook, at the end he's not really my friend, he's my brother's.

he looks at his bike and then at me "uh, yeah, i'd love to."

"you got yourself a sweet appartment." jungkook tells me as soon as he enters and starts taking off his shoes.

"thanks, i got really lucky. you want some wine?"

"ew? you don't have beer?"

i grab him one and pour myself a glass of wine.

"god, i don't know why i went out with that guy, actually he seemed fine at first, you know?"

"and i could see from miles away that he was a dick, his posture, his vibe. i don't know how you didn't notice."

"well, i'm sorry, mr. vibes." i rolled my eyes, playing with him.

we get to talking, an actual really enjoyable conversation of what we were both doing here, how i was doing with my intership and him with his promotion on his corporate job at a really young age. we were both doing amazing, and we were having a really good time. and there was this feeling again, of not wanting it to be over. not once in our lives have we been alone, my brother was always there or just someone. we never got to do something alone even when we were younger and jungkook went to my house for dinner and my mom asked us to set the table so this was a new one. he also looked so handsome tonight, making those weird butterflies worse.

"i'm sorry, that was a really long story. but i've been wanting to thank you again for picking me up and saving me from that prick. i really needed that." i tell him while i get myself more comfortable on the couch. "i hope you weren't doing anything important and i interrupted you with my annoying problems."

"i was hanging out with some friends back at my place, actually." he says, while putting his head back on the couch, letting me see his neck and that little tattoo behind his ear.

"what? jungkook, oh my god, i'm so sorry i wouldn't have called you if i—"

jungkook laughs, standing up from the couch.

"are you going back to your place? god, i'm so sorry." i stand up with him.

"shut up." he laughs again.

"what? no, i mean it."

"shut up, y/n."

"what? why?"

"i did have some friends hanging out back at my place and yeah, i was busy." he starts, while walking slowly towards me "but that didn't matter as soon as you called me and told me you needed me. because whatever you need i'll run through heaven and hell to give it to you, walk the whole planet barefoot if you needed me to."

our faces are just milimiters apart from crashing into each other's.

"it's just because i'm your best friend's little sister." i tell him, almost whispering.

"no, it's you over your brother anytime." he grabs my face, his thumbs caressing my cheeks. "it's you, y/n, it has always been you."

i prepare myself for the kiss, a kiss that's going to change whatever dynamic we had for years. but there's no kiss, just a soft touch of his upper lip against mine.

"but we'll talk about it later, when you haven't come from a shit date."

he grabs his jacket and lets himself out of my appartment.

i want to say something back, tell him that leaving me like this it's unfair, but nothing comes out of my mouth, just my hand moving to my mouth trying to remember the lingering touch of him against me.

i was left there speechless.

[vampiretendencies]

request; for the valentine's day blurbs allowing their partner to sleep in because they were overworked and needed the rest with jj

pairing; jj x fem!reader

warnings; none, fluff

authors note; today is likely the last day i’m going to be writing from these prompts, seeing that valentine’s day is now over. but if you any requests outside of those, my requests are still open.

list of prompts in honor of valentine’s day

He lived to please.

Well, you.

He lived to fulfill your every desire.

With that in mind, one could only imagine the sunken wreckage he ached with after JJ had seen your disheveled figure last night from working. Wandering into the shared apartment, with an appearance that you’d been mobbed.

JJ made it his mission today to assure you got all the rest you could possibly take.

Last night, he secretly switched off your automatic alarm after he carried you to bed, helped you get undressed, and brushed out your hair.

All in a timely manner but ever so gracefully.

That’s why this morning JJ is wide awake, due to calling into your job and telling them you were too ill— selling a lie, as he did best.

But four hours later, he found himself unable to fall bad into a slumber.

Call him a creep or an odd human being.

Simply because he was watching you sleep, mentally taking notes of every minuscule thing you’d done in your sleep and how with no effort you captured his gaze like no one else.

JJ’s head propped itself against the wooden headboard with a pillow, on his side he took all of you in. Your frame mimicked his almost— facing JJ, but lower into the mattress whilst you let out breath after breath in a peaceful state. An arm was exposed, JJ daintily glided his calloused finger tips to the memorably smooth-surfaced flesh, metal rings soothingly cool to touch. Your mouth was parted open in the slightest, hair covering the silk pillow— an angel in his presence.

Convinced that your maker had been a painter, intricately woven with a paintbrush. Features so unlike another.

And he just could not get enough of it.

Thirsting for another glance, always and at any time.

You began to stir in your sleep, limbs weak and eye lids so heavy they felt as if they been glued shut. Upon your movements, JJ’s heart soared, awaiting to bore into your heavenly affection.

“Feels like someone dropped a fucking brick on my head.”

JJ choked on a chuckle in the back of his throat, cupping your jaw— to say I’m here and I’ve been waiting for you all morning, and I’d do it all over again.

“Mornin’ to you too, baby,” the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile. A gleam of worry could be sensed on your face, and JJ already knew. Your head whisking in one motion to alarm clock by your bedside, a sense of doom washing over you, 1:55 PM.

“JJ! I missed my alarm … y-you didn’t wake me?!”

You panicked and JJ still continued to do nothing but grin.

“Relax, pretty girl. Got it taken care of.”

[bbeds-side-blog]

Why am I unironically drawn to staticapple goddammit. Inspired by this post and this post

Aka: in which Vox sees an opportunity to rub elbows with royalty, which is bound to be useful, right? And ends up with a crush. 800 words of pinning!Vox.

He had been supporting this hotel nonsense for months until, at last, his effort started to bring benefits.

At long last, Charlie had called her father for additional support.

Vox had expected many things from finally meeting with the devil himself.

“Charlie sent me a photo, so I brought you this! Thanks for helping out my little girl.”

Receiving a light blue rubber duck with little antennas that glowed neon-blue in the dark had not been part of it. Watching dumbfounded as all the other residents received rubber duck mini-versions of themselves was just as nonsensical.

But! Vox was a businessman first and foremost, and receiving a gift meant he could give one back without it being suspicious. A camera, a drone, a small TV— Vox scrolled internally through the list of options that popped up like annoying advertisements in his mind, until he settled on the perfect option that was less obvious for spying, and had the added benefit of being cute.

“This is an Emo AI Voxtek robot!” Vox presented proudly. “Say hi, little thing.”

“Hi!” the square looked up at the King of Hell — which was a feat on itself because damn was the fallen angel so fucking short — blue eyes blinking adorably as it moved its small head up and down. Without arms, it was the closest thing to a wave the thing could do.

“Aww, hi!” Lucifer cooed, grabbing the little thing. “Who’s a wittle guy? So wittle!”

The King was talking with the same baby voice he had used to greet the little red lambs. The fallen angel seemed all too happy to put the tiny thing over his head, now hidden by the white tophat, and Vox’s grin extended in victory as his cute little spy was taken back to the Royal Palace.

He would have intel nobody else had, HAHA fuck you Alastor!

(x)

He didn’t get shit.

Or well, not anything that could qualify as intel. Nothing that would give Vox any advantage. Lucifer had placed the charging station at his work desk, granting Vox a first row view of bare arms and an unbuttoned shirt as the short King made… cute little rubber ducks, one after the other.

He could be doing something else, literally anything else would be more valuable than investing time watching Lucifer making ducks, but there was something that drew him in like a sailor doomed by the siren’s call. Vox stared at the way the glove-less hands moved as they worked, the way a whisper of golden magic would be embedded into the things as the final step of the crafting process.

Fuck, why was Vox so transfixed on this crap?

“What do you do?” Lucifer grinned at the thing, eyes sparkling with life. The man laughed giddily when the duck grew sharp teeth and made biting gestures at his fingers.

“Ohhh, someone likes to bite!” Against all logic, Lucifer brought the duck with sharp teeth close to his cheek. “Bite kisses? Wanna give daddy kisses?”

Yes I do, Vox answered in his mind, one hand covering his mouth in silent horror at the revelation, the other hand playing with the little duck that glowed in the dark, thumb carefully pulling at the little antennas, because he was horribly, horribly transfixed with this joke of a show. Stupid, stupidly adorable man, what the fuck, why was the devil himself so damn cute—

The tiny robot made a little grunt of complaint, shaking in his place at the desk and thus, shaking the camera as well.

“Aww what’s up Wittle? Wanna kiss too?”

Yes, fuck yes, fuck why.

Vox lamented and complained in his head a thousand times as the little AI robot was picked up and smooched, and Lucifer laughed in his stupidly adorable way as “Wittle” — the name the King bestowed upon the little AI robot — wiggled and gave a pleased thrill in his hands.

“You’re adorable. I didn’t know human technology could be this cute.” Fuck him sideways Lucifer was rubbing his face against Wittle’s camera, fuck Vox wanted to kiss him, fuck everything, damn it!

“Maybe I should give it a try. The TVs don’t seem that interesting to me, but maybe there’s other stuff? I should ask Vox next time.”

Vox could give him a tour at Voxtek, showing off the things he thought the King may like, he could put the stuff at the upper shelves so Lucifer couldn’t reach and then Vox would have an excuse to lean close to him, extending an arm to help him bring down the— fuck. Ohh fuck.

Vox brought the stupid blue rubber duck to his face and groaned, utterly mortified.

He also offered the tour the next time the King visited the hotel, damn it.

[harrieatthemet]

One Is Enough III

HERE Y’ALL FUCKING GO DAMN. HERE, TAKE IT.

Everyone is practically drowning in it now. 

The silence is insufferably deafening; swallowing the entire room whole, its occupants along with it. The most begrudging, loudest silence of all is radiating from the seat next to yours. Harry’s painfully quiet. And if you’ve taken notice, it’s likely so has everyone else. It’s likely why Anne leaps at the opportunity to jump in.

“Well,” her sigh is sing-song as she smiles, happy to be the one to break the tension, “s’wonderful news, honey. Absolutely wonderful really, I could just cry!”

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit to relishing in some form of relief. Keeping a pregnancy under wraps is mentally exhausting and putting it out there on the table, almost literally, was an un-ignorable weight lifted from your shoulders. Though it became his burden to carry, evidently, as Harry slides his wine glass back onto the table without uttering so much as an exhale.  

The subtle screeching of her chair across the floor is muffled by the onset of congratulations from everyone else; Gemma gushing on about having a nephew (she hopes), Clare and Mitch keen on the idea of a friend for their own little guy.

You accept the slew of kisses and hugs from your mother in law, agreeing to send her ultrasound photos and share name ideas once you have them. Harry keeps mum; expression stoic, barely moving when his mother rubs his shoulders and peppers him with kisses in congratulatory bliss.

There’s an onset of emotion, perhaps a little bit of everything all at once; anger, embarrassment, disappointment, befuddlement. hostility. The list runs onward and is so overwhelming that he, himself, is truly battling which one to address and digest first.

He’s like this for the rest of the evening; quiet, blank, and mentally removed from the physical atmosphere. You’ve been watching him out of the corner of your eye every so often, unable to ward off the ever-growing sense of uneasiness. The expression on his face hasn’t moved once, not even when everyone sang happy birthday and cheered as he blew out his candles. A weak smile was all he could muster up and give, though it was quickly wiped off. 

“No wishes needed,” Clare inquires, “(Y/N) gave you the best one!” 

Everyone hums in agreement except the two who are actually expecting. Of course, you smile meekly at Clare for the compliment before awkwardly adjusting yourself in your chair. But he says nothing, running his tongue over the front of his teeth behind closed lips. Unbeknownst to everyone else, you know he’s absolutely submerged in fury. 

Everyone starts shuffling out one by one, couple by couple until Anne and Gemma are the only two remaining. Once the last person leaves, the door closes and he does the lock, he’s sure to blow up; it’s almost like a silent understanding between the two of you. Each time one of you catches the other’s gaze, he makes sure to shoot you one of those glares. The infamous ‘I’ll deal with you later’ glare. 

“Give th’baby lots of kisses f’me,” Anne’s halfway out the door, coat hanging off her shoulders, “both of ‘em.”

About 90% of you wants to get on your knees and beg her to stay; just a little bit longer to wait out the inevitable conversation. But he’s got one hand on the door as he coaxes her out. You might not be ready to talk but he certainly is. If he didn’t love her as much as he did and adore her to death, he’d have given Anne a little shove out the door (as lovingly as possible, obviously) and shut it behind her. Biting his tongue this long and taming the fire in his gut was starting to feel impossible. He was one more photo of Anne’s recent holiday away from spinning off the planet.

The sound of the lock to the front door, even from all the way down the hall into the dining room, is almost blood curdling. The weight his footsteps are much, much worse. Each click of his heels against the wood sounded like impending doom. Closer, closer, and closer until he was standing right behind you. 

You can feel his eyes on the back of your head as you clean up the table, “Did you want to save the wine or-”

“(Y/N) I don’t fucking care about th’fucking wine.”

Upon turning to face him, perched like a statue in the archway of the door, you really really wished you’d just kept your back to him. The expression of his face is taught, riddled with aggravation as the line between his eyebrows becomes prominent as ever. With lips tight-lined and pressed, body stand-offish and tense, it’s obvious it’s taking whatever shred of self restraint he’s got in him right now to keep from flying right off the handle.

“Ok,” you huff in annoyance, “I’ll toss it than.”

The spout of the bottle is in your hand, gripped so tightly your knuckles have to be ghostly-white at this point. He knows you’re trying to dance around this because your execution earlier was so wrongly mishandled. And he scoffs when you walk past him out of the dining room and down the hall; mum and without word, head intentionally low to avoid eye contact.

“What the fuck is wrong with you” he growls, hot on your heels as you do the roundabout into the kitchen, “I mean, really (Y/N), how long have y’known about this?”

It feels like he’s about to crawl out of his own body, he’s so angry. Especially because you’re keeping your back to him, as though somehow emptying out the wine takes precedent over this conversation. And when you're done with that, you just move onto cleaning something else. Like he isn’t even there.

“Tell me how fucking long.”

The escalation in tone, as well as volume of his voice lands exactly how he wanted it to. The water in the sink stops running and and the clinking of glasses comes to an abrupt halt. His eyes are trailing your body, watching you begin straightening it out before turning around to look him right in the face.

“Three weeks,” still, you’re a lot smugger than he’d like you to be, “give or take.”

He swears he can feel the blood in his body come to a complete boil. There is no rash way to address this. Or you. Desperately, he tries to sift through his thoughts and find the right way to express what he’s feeling. Three weeks is almost a month; that’s what he can’t quite manage to wrap his head around. Of all the moments, big and small, within the past three weeks you had the opportunity to tell him you chose tonight; with an audience sat congregating at his own dinner table. 

When you turn to go back to the dishes as though you don’t see him vibrating with anger, he swears he might actually jump out of his own skin. And he’s honestly astounded at the audacity you’re exercising in a situation as heavy as this one. 

“Y’out of your bloody fucking mind?” he snaps at you before stomping over to the sink, moving your hand and shutting the water off again, “Sat on this f’three fucking weeks?” 

“Isn’t that literally what I just said?” 

“Christ enough o’ that, really.” he’s truly struggling to practice patience with you right now, especially when you match his anger with sarcasm, “Y’like a petulant child, (Y/N), with th’attitude. Grow up.” 

It’s admirable, really. There’s an incredibly stark difference in demeanor between you two. He’s writhing with enmity and embarrassment right now, but you’re smugness is unmatched. He would’ve thought hurling an insult would get you to waiver. Evidently, you’re not interested in backing down or waving a white flag because the expression on your face doesn’t even flinch. Unfortunately for you, neither is he. 

“Had plenty of opportunity t’speak up,” and his face is so close you can almost smell the remnants of wine on his breath, “but y’decided t’cause a scene, right? Had t’do it for an audience, give ‘em a show.” 

“Fuck you Harry, seriously,” and there it is, now he’s got you riled up, “I didn’t wait for your birthday dinner to drop the pregnancy bomb and unload our marital bullshit.” 

A brief puzzled expression flickers on his face. What about this pregnancy was unwanted? You take notice, though it’s brief, that he really does appear to be confused by that remark. But he reminds himself that he’s mad and has to channel that back. 

“Wanted t’embarass me f’something, than?” he asks, voice lower than before but still louder than you’d like, “What’d I fucking do tha’ was so awful you would keep a secret like this from me? Y’should’ve told me.” 

Honestly, you have to blink a few times to keep from crying. This is definitely not how you wanted to tell him you’re working on your family of three becoming a family of four. And past all that anger is an abundance of pain; you can see it just from the look in his eye. He’s angry you embarrassed him but he’s devastated you didn't allow him the privilege of being the first to know. 

“What did you do?” 

You repeat his own words back to him slowly, as though you can’t even begin to understand why he’d ask something that stupid. All he does is stare, maybe blinks once or twice. He doesn't say anything though; just waits for you to spit it out and give him a reason. You owe him at least that much. 

“Oh, yikes one is enough mum,” you pull a face mockingly as you do a shit job at mimicking his accent, “another baby is years off, right babe? Right love?” 

“(Y/N) I didn’t-”

“All that ‘two under two sounds so bloody fucking awful’ bullshit tonight” you drudge on and, God, that accent is so bad, “and you wanted me to tell you? You’re shocked that I didn’t jump up and down with a positive Clear Blue test and ask you for name suggestions?” 

The tension in his body starts to settle a bit before he can completely relax his shoulders, dropping them in total defeat. If you wanted to make him feel terrible you did an absolute stand up job. The guilt that’s starting to swallow him up is all-consuming, especially because he can see tears start to pool at your water line. Truly he had no idea. You know he just runs his mouth sometimes. He talks just to talk and he’s not fully aware of the capacity of what he’s saying. He’s always been so comfortable around you where he’s never felt the need to filter every thought. Clearly he should start. 

He completely comes off the defensive when he lifts his arm and extends his hand out a little, using his thumb to wipe away a spilled tear. With that he feels you start to soften a bit as well, relaxing your body and letting any renewing tension go with an extended exhale. 

“Hate seeing y’cry,” he pouts, “Especially if it’s ‘cos o’me.” 

You sniffle, “Then don’t be a dick.”

“Christ, would y’let me apologize, please?” His smirk makes a more prominent indent when he evokes a defeated chuckle from you, “M’so sorry, baby love. Just wanted t’keep mum off our backs ‘n thought we had time t’plan it all out.”

He feels like his apology isn’t really good enough. The guilt is so obscure he can’t even articulate how badly he feels. Truly the last thing he’d ever want is to create an environment where you felt like you couldn’t tell him anything. Which seems to be the exact thing he managed to do here. He wants to undo it so badly. 

“But this,” he hums, crouching down until he’s eye level at your stomach hand his palm is flat on top of it, “this is amazing, yeah? Angel baby - a big sister, s’amazing.”

Your tone is cautious, but you peer down at him as he glances up at you, “So you’re not.. upset.. about another baby?”

“Upset?” His exclaim is playful as he stands back up, hands rubbing your shoulders and then your arms, “M’thrilled, button. S’like our rainbow baby. But oi, next time tell me first, yeah? Makes me feel cool t’ know stuff before everyone else.” 

He’s so relieved to hear you laugh; even more relieved when you pout your lips out to ask for a kiss. To which, he happily obliges before smashing them with a slew of kisses. And as a way to settle the score, he wants to be the one to tell Angel Baby. 

“We gotta celebrate the right way,” you hum in turn, “but you pick! However you want. It’s my apology to you.” 

“Sex,” he breathes out in such relief and desperation you almost audibly snort, “my God, so much sex.”

[campfireofdreams]

griffguts playlist

A list of some of my favorite songs that remind me of guts & griffith:

Even Thought Our Love Is Doomed - Garbage

And even though our love is cruel And even though our stars are crossed You're the only thing worth fighting for You're the only thing worth dying for

Cosmic Love - Florence + The Machine

The stars, the moon They have all been blown out You've left me in the dark No dawn, no day I'm always in this twilight In the shadow of your heart

I Have Questions - Camila Cabello

I gave you all of me My blood, my sweat, my heart, and my tears Why don't you care, why don't you care? I was there, I was there, when no one was Now you're gone and I'm here

[here's a beautiful edit with this song]

No Light, No Light - Florence + The Machine

No light, no light in your bright blue eyes I never knew daylight could be so violent A revelation in the light of day You can't choose what stays and what fades away And I'd do anything to make you stay

[another edit]

I Just Wanna Know - NF

I just wanna know When did you get so cold What happened to your soul Don't you see me I thought that we were close But now that door is closed When did we lose control Guess you don't need me

[amazing edit with this song]

Only You - Little Mix, Cheat Codes

Once upon a time, we had it all Somewhere down the line, we went and lost it One brick at a time, we watched it fall I'm broken here tonight and, darling, no one else can fix me Only you

[I really love this edit]

The Enemy - Andrew Belle

Don't try to follow me I would hold you down if I could Make you the enemy I would let you down

Haunted - Taylor Swift

Come on, come on, don't leave me like this I thought I had you figured out Something's gone terribly wrong You're all I wanted Come on, come on, don't leave me like this I thought I had you figured out Can't breathe whenever you're gone Can't turn back now, I'm haunted

Wait - NF

Wait, wait, wait Don't leave me

//

I'm holding on to pieces of us That I just can't let go I know this is a desperate kind of love But it feels like it's home

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace

I hate everything about you Why do I love you?

Moondust - Jaymes Young

And there's nothing that I can do Except bury my love for you

In My Veins - Andrew Belle

Oh you're in my veins And I cannot get you out Oh you're all I taste At night inside of my mouth Oh you run away 'Cause I am not what you found Oh you're in my veins And I cannot get you out

Hurts Like Hell - Fleurie, Tommee Profitt

I loved and I loved and I lost you And it hurts like hell

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you

my tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones

//

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same Cursing my name, wishing I stayed You turned into your worst fears

Bonus:

This silly edit I made with Gotta Go My Own Way from HSM lol

Also recently added Hoax by Taylor Swift to the playlist thanks to @paint-it-dead who recommended this song to me. Here's the post I was talking about! I hope you and everyone else enjoys this playlist 🤗

[thieves-in-the-palace]

jumps into ur ask box hello. hi. what are ur ng+ time loop thoughtz

god i have. a lot of thoughts about ng+ time loops in general. in relation to this post tho i specifically have Some Thoughts about Akira going through the loops trying to figure out why he's stuck there, how to get out, etc and also having to contend with Akechi dying every time but also like…the inevitable emotional cycles that come with watching the same guy die over and over.

✧ "Who is more unlucky here? The one who will die every time but never remember? Or the one who will live every time and always remember?" –> "Me. I'm the more unlucky one. What's this dude's fucking problem" –> "What's MY fucking problem? Why does this keep happening to me? Why doesn't anyone else remember? Why can't I escape this? Why does Akechi have to die every time??" –> "What's this dude's FUCKING problem–"

✧ does it count as a parasocial relationship if you know the guy irl and also it's based on the weird sense of kinship that comes with being doomed to repeatedly live through the same year over and over while he's doomed to die every time. hand in hand they are BOTH doomed baybee

✧ You know how Akechi is often portrayed as having Death Note-esque internal monologues when interacting with Akira? That but Akira is having his own wildly different internal monologue that sounds a lot like "okay you shit idiot. what's it gonna take to keep you from dying"

✧ The rest of the Thieves are surprised when Akira doesn't seem to react to Akechi's death, but they figure he's trying to keep it together for the sake of the mission. Truly tho Akira is mentally cussing Akechi out and lamenting the fact they're gonna have to fight god again soon. rip lawboy you would've loved fighting ol' yaldy

✧ Futaba hacks Akira's phone (for enrichment) and sees his most recent google search "is it bad to stop feeling bad after the 15th time you watch the same person die or are you allowed to start getting annoyed about it" – maybe he's going through something similar to what she went through w/ her mom? She starts prodding him about his past, but it doesn't really get her anywhere…

(If u want to get even more into Game-Based Reality Nonsense u could even say that Futaba can't find anything on Akira aside from his criminal record. No hospital records, no school info, no nothing. It's like the guy didn't even exist before the day he got arrested. Akira might not have any answers either, which, u know, doesn't help with the mental strain caused by being stuck in a time loop. Does he even exist outside of the loop? If the loop ended, would he disappear with it? etc etc)

✧ At the beginning of each loop, Akira makes a list of things that might break the time loop, updating it as needed. "Akechi survives" is at the top of the list every time bc it's one of the only things that never happens.

✧ Akira just generally having a slightly shorter temper w/ Akechi bc truly. How do u go through this sort of ordeal w/o wanting to rattle him like a maraca after a point. He won't hesitate to call Akechi cringe when the guy leans too heavily on his Pleasant Lawboy™ persona.

They wind up sparring in Mementos more frequently bc this Akira is more willing to entertain Akechi's bloodlust; fighting is a good outlet for Akira's own frustrations. Akechi keeps getting more and more annoyed each time tho bc why tf can this attic trash keep up with him? How is he predicting Akechi's attacks so well? (Akechi's going to start spitting fire if he ever finds out Akira has been holding back during their fights lmao. Akira can easily trounce him in 1v1 since like…3 loops ago?)

✧ Akira spending so much time annoyed and even furious w/ Akechi for not having enough self-preservation to survive even one loop only to ultimately circle right back into The Guilt + Sorrow bc god, all this time and he still can't figure out how to keep this fuckhead alive?

And it IS guilt Akira feels, unfortunately. Makoto and Futaba were both antagonistic towards the Phantom Thieves at first, too. Just spending some time with them was enough to reveal how getting screwed over by adults guided their actions; it doesn't absolve them of threatening the group, but it makes them easier to forgive.

Akira wonders, sometimes, if he's too quick to forgive Akechi. He's killed people, and he claims to be perfectly okay with being a murderer so long as it means he can reach his goals. But Akechi is a liar all the way down, too, because a cold-hearted killer wouldn't sacrifice himself for his enemies. He wouldn't give up his only shot at vengeance so easily after going through years of hell to achieve it. Yet Akechi still dies in that boiler room every time. Akechi never truly hates Akira, and Akira can't quite bring himself to ever truly hate Akechi, either.

But then Akira sees Akechi alive and well and smiling for the camera in the next loop, and he gets the abrupt urge to lay the guy out.

✧ "I want you to live. I also never want to see you again."

✧ And all of this is w/o getting into P5R's third semester hijinks. Akira thinking he's finally escaped the time loop only to realize that something Worse is happening now.

And Akechi is still there, because of fucking course he is–

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 12

If you thought I'd make it easy for my boys to be together....honey, you've got another thing coming.

I'm so sorry 🙃

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 11, 12, 13 Word Count: 3349 (average 25 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, homophobia, fantasy racisms. Steamy scenes will come to those who are patient. :) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

The Council was a group of old men who should have probably died or retired ages ago and they still believed their opinions mattered to generations much younger than them. I sat at the front of the long, rectangular room next to the seat of my father. There were nine council members, five on one side, four on the other, all regarding each other like they were better than all the others. I wondered if any of them even considered anyone else in this room their friend, or if they were all in this just to barter their way of life into this town.

I was equal parts frustrated by their traditional methodology and scared at the power they still held over a society that had evolved since their time. They were capable of so much simply because they had climbed up the ranks until there was nowhere else to go. 

My father had been summoning me to each Council meeting for the past week and I found myself bored to tears each time. I contributed very little to their conversations, and I already knew that I was doomed to disappoint all of them again today.

Most of the items of business were small, inconsequential things like adding more roads, where to expand for more homes as more people come to our town. With each one we offered our vote, when there really wasn’t much to vote on. I found my fingers itching to be playing with something other than the fringe on the hem of my sleeve. 

I couldn’t deny that my father - despicable as he is - was a committed leader. His attention was fully invested in each person’s comments, and he weighed all of the options equally. 

My father was an intelligent man, and a deep thinker and I think that’s why it hurt me so much every time that he didn’t seem to have the heart to make sense of me. I wasn’t worth his time mulling over and understanding - to him I was simply broken and in need of his repair.

Time moved slowly, but I did my best to keep my mind on the present conversation. I was surprised that my father didn’t ask more of me since he insisted that I be there, but I was also grateful to not be put at the center of attention in front of these old men. 

After a long laundry list of things, my father cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, “Council Orin, I seem to recall you mentioned to me an issue you were having in the Northern district?” 

I watched closely as the man named Orin nodded sagely towards the Duke. “Ah yes, thank you, Your Grace. Gentlemen, I’d like to discuss the matter of a newcomer that’s been in town. A well respected innkeeper came to me with some concern that an orc has been staying in his inn for the past nine days now. He doesn’t appear to be here for any particular reason besides to loiter in our streets. We’ve been good enough to attract very little of the other folk in Faerun, and I wonder if there is something to be done with this newcomer?”

I gripped the armchair of my seat as I was forced to listen to these men discuss their distaste for orcs. With one mention of Drun’s race, they suddenly all felt it was their right and permission to exclaim their opinion - all of the despicable and completely wrong. They were talking about Drunrag, my Drun. They called him unclean, and one of the cursed races because they had sided centuries ago with the enemy. A long dead enemy that Drun had nothing to do with. They were formulating plans to get him out of town. I had to say something, but I couldn’t, not when I looked over and saw the way my father was watching me with such a smug look.

He shifted in his seat again and cleared his throat, the room fell into expectant silence. 

My Father spoke, “Altan, son, what do you say is the best course of action? Perhaps your youth can help us see a different light?”

I refused to look back at him. He was mocking me. I knew he was cornering me to fold and not say anything. I knew if I said what I felt, it would fall on deaf and racist ears. Instead I sat straight and held my fingers tight like claws on the armchair. “Perhaps it would be wise to avoid making a rash decision until we learn why he’s here.”

“The innkeeper says the orc won’t speak when he talks to him. Says he’s practically mute.” Councilman Orin responded.

Another Councilman jumped in, “I thought I saw him working with that Dragonborn Doxxah in the Northern District, perhaps they’re plotting something.”

I couldn’t believe them. Doxxah had been here for years and had proven themselves again and again to be an honest, hardworking contributor to the town. I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another round of the men exclaiming their dislike of Dragonborns, of Orc of all the races they felt uncomfortable around.

“It’s not as if we don’t want them in our town.” One of them said, “But it must be understood that our town was built centuries ago as a fortress to protect our ancestors from the dangers that these very same races brought outside our day every day. Do we ignore our past and history just to embrace these newcomers into our town?”

“I don’t see any reason why we should be the same as our ancestors from hundreds of years ago.” I replied. They all looked at me with furrowed brows. “Perhaps Berdusk is more than about keeping tradition, but about making traditions that provide comfort and safety for all folks who pass through. Neither Doxxah or this orc you speak of has caused any true offense that warrants this amount of distrust towards them. Perhaps change is not so bad for a town and we simply need more time.”

My father tapped his finger on his armrest, “So you would erase our history from us?”

I shook my head, “That’s not what I'm suggesting at all. I see it as an expansion of what we could offer.”

“But we can’t please everyone, young lord.” One man said, “We are not as impressive of a town as those larger, more advanced cities like Waterdeep, or Baldur’s Gate. We cannot easily accommodate them and our people would not be comfortable to change for them. Wouldn’t it be safer for them to not be here?”

“So you’re saying we force this gentleman to vacate our town?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a gentlemen, young lord. He’s an orc, he’s from the wild plains in the South. They’re undignified and so uncouth there.” 

My voice was shaking as I spoke. “I don’t see any sound reason to kick him out.”

“It’s for the safety of the town. You must remember that the North District is where families live. An orc living there is…well…it’s preposterous and it cannot stand.”

Tradition. Family. Protecting what’s always been. These were the grumblings that this town rested everything on. It was a narrative that had pervaded and infected the way the Council viewed anything. They had used the same disgusting rant on my mother when she had tried to change things here to help her children and other people's children. Remembering her then made my blood turn hot and I couldn’t listen to any of that bullshit anymore. I sprung to my feet, my chair making a loud clatter as it fell back. The room fell silent.

“You are the ones who are preposterous. Look at you! You all live in denial that times have changed since you were young. Times have changed since our ancestors. Time changes people, it changes us. We have a chance to be more than just Berdusk, a town where all Men live and thrive. Why must it just be humans? Because you’re more comfortable looking at someone who looks and thinks exactly like you! It's easier, isn't it? It’s too uncomfortable to have to consider that other races could be better at your job than you! It's too uncomfortable to have to recognize that maybe your traditions are worse than outright violence. You don’t like that the world is changing to make you less important and you would drive out every last race that isn’t human if you had the chance, wouldn’t you? Including me.” 

The silence in the room was deafening and none of the Councilmen would meet my eyes as I let them have a taste of what I thought of each of them.

I turned to look at my father, who was looking at me with a smug look. 

“I’m dismissing myself from this meeting.” I said, before stepping down and racing out of the room. 

I caught the eye of Commander Gideon who was standing outside the door into the room. He didn’t move, but I caught something in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. I didn’t bother dwelling on it as I continued my march out of the room, out of the building and down the steps towards the town below me. 

The guards weren’t prepared as I barreled passed them and down the street. They tried to follow me, but I shook them off quickly as I wound through the crowds and into another crowded street. My head was pounding, my heart was racing and I only had one place I wanted to be. 

I burst into Doxxah’s bakery, out of breath and heaving. “Where is he?” I asked.

Doxxah broke into a grin and pointed behind them. “In the back, young lord.” 

I didn’t wait for permission to walk around the counter. I wove my way through the various obstacles until I found my way into the back where the room was so much more warm with all of the ovens burning. There was Drun, covered in flour and sweat. He hadn’t seen me and was bent over a tray of rolls, sprinkling a dusting of cinnamon over the top of them. He was biting his bottom lip and was deep in concentration.

All of the tension inside of me loosened at being able to see him. He was adorable in that moment, and I would have loved to take in the image of him like this, but I needed him. I cleared my throat and waited for him to look at me. 

His eyes, his beautiful stormy grey eyes found mine and he raised to his full height. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He looked behind me with a worried expression. He seemed afraid to approach me.

“I just needed to see you.” I said. “I’m…” I felt hot tears as I looked at him. Why couldn’t they see him the way I saw him? He was gentle, he was beautiful, he carried himself so carefully and thoughtfully. How could someone look at him - sprinkling cinnamon on a roll with such care for gods’ sake- and tell me he was of a lesser race? There was nothing about Drunrag that I didn't find lovely and safe and good. I closed the distance and barreled into him, wrapping my arms around him with my head buried in his chest. “Please, let’s go.”

“Where?” He asked.

“Anywhere,” I said, my voice was muffled in his chest and I felt like some pathetic child. 

I felt Drun’s hands settle around me. Holding me around my shoulders and pulling me closer to him. His body was so warm.

“Will we be safe?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to answer.

“Altan.” he said and he pulled me back so he could look at me, he took my hand and placed it on his chest. Oh all of the nine hells consume me, my name on his lips was sin. Gods I needed him.  “Do you feel it?” he asked, using the same words I had said to him.

And I felt it, the quick beating of his heart. It was strong and steady and purposeful. I pressed my hands there, feeling comfort in its power.

“Do you understand?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Do you trust us?” He asked.

“I trust us.” I said. “But my father will never allow me to be with you. We’ll never be safe.” I looked up at him, “The city intends to kick you out, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they plan to do worse. If I can’t go with you, then promise me you’ll go and be safe.”

He shook his head, “Not without you.”

“Then let’s go.” I said. “I’ll leave it all behind, right now.”

I heard Doxxah’s throat clear behind me and I whirled around to see Commander Gideon standing next to them. 

“Your grace.” He said, his voice was gentle. “Your father asked that I get you…he wanted me to inform you that you should say your goodbyes now.”

It was a threat. Say goodbye to your lover and come back repentant or face the punishment. My body tensed and I resisted moving. 

“It’s alright, Altan.” Drun said softly, his hand was on my arm, and he gently coaxed me to return my attention to him. 

I nodded, my face wet with tears. “Drun…I love you.”

He nodded, his hand tightened around me. “And I you.” He leaned forward and his forehead was pressed to mine. “I’m yours, djenifad. Don’t give up on me.” 

He pushed me gently towards the door and I resisted every time. I saw the pain reflected in his eyes as I was being pulled away again from him. “Drun, Drunrag. I love you. I love you...” I could only say it again and again as Commander Gideon took my arm and gently began to pull me away. Drun was standing there, watching me and I saw a faint glint of wet light in his eyes. 

Commander Gideon was gentle as he pulled me discreetly into the carriage that was waiting outside the bakery’s steps. Of course there were still many eyes on us as I pulled myself in. 

“Commander,” I managed to say, struggling to stay composed. “What does my father intend to do to him?”

He remained calm, and he was gentle in his answer, “The Duke did not make any mention of the young orc, only to return you home.”

Somehow, that left me more scared, but I could do nothing else but nod and utter my gratitude to him. He was being surprisingly gentle and kind about all of this. 

Doxxah stood at the door, but not before approaching me and placing in my hands a small box. “He made this one, he added so much cinnamon I couldn’t sell them. I think they’re for you.” 

I laughed before immediately coughing and choking on my tears. My Drun, he remembered I loved cinnamon. I couldn’t speak. I was so overwhelmed with emotion. Doxxah closed the door and backed away, waving gently at me. They didn’t say anything, but I saw an ally in them. They would take care of Drun while I couldn’t be by his side.

The ride was silent, uncomfortable and the Commander was once again patient and gentle as he told me that I was to be escorted to the Duke’s chambers to meet with him. In all of this, I could sense a reluctance in the Commander’s actions. I’m sure he felt a bit like a babysitter and could easily resent me for making his job such a headache, but he continued to remain neutral and impassive. 

My father’s chambers was a room I only saw when I was in trouble and I only ever associated it with bad memories. I never remembered seeing it until I started to disobey my father’s rules and resist his instructions for me, and then I would be taken there to be given a stern talking to. When stern talkings to didn’t work for him, it turned into ridicule, chastisement and sometimes physical punishment. I hated that room.

The room was all dark wood panels, red velvet curtains that kept the room dark and moody. He had little furniture in there, just a round room that was dark and shadowy. When the Commander let me walk in, he waited outside and I stepped in alone.

“You made quite the impression in the Council meeting today.” The Duke said. He was sitting at a chair, a scroll in his hand that he was reading.

My jaw was tight as I took in the sight. “You can do anything you want to me, but you can’t hurt him, do you understand?”

“By our laws, we have no grounds to do anything to him yet.” My father said coolly, not looking up from his readings. “But if I hear or see that he has touched you in any way…I can promise you that I will remove him from your life in one fell swoop and ruin any chance of you seeing him again. I have him right where I want him to keep an eye on him. And you, my son, will be kept under a more severe supervision. So I know where you will be at all times. Be careful of your actions.” 

“Why is it so important to you to control me?” I asked, fighting back the emotion in my voice. I had to stay in control. “There is no love lost between us. Why must we suffer ourselves through this? I’ll never be the person you want me to be. Just let me go, let me be happy with him. I’ll never speak your name again. I’ll change my name if I must. But we don’t have to keep doing this anymore.”

“You ungrateful, insolent boy.” My father seethed, “You have been given everything since the day you were born and I have been the one to give it to you. I could have taken you from your mother as soon as I saw how she was turning your mind against me. But I let her keep you. You were always hers and I was gracious enough to let it be that way. But she is gone and you are mine now, and I will see you thanking me for the mercy I continue to show you.”

“I’m not grateful.” I spat, “How can I be grateful when you intentionally keep me from being who I am? Just…please…let us go.”

He sighed, feigning exhaustion. “I know the moment I set either of you free, you’ll be crawling right back to each other. I see it in both your eyes, you're sick for each other.” 

“I’m not sick, I’ve never been sick. This is my choice.” I pleaded back, “Your Grace…Father. I love him, he means more to me than my own life.”

His eyes became wild at those words, “You would bring yourself this low to get the attention you so crave? If you desire to be nothing more than a whore, then I will find you someone better than this. You depraved child.” He rose to his feet. “I do not see how you became so wrong as you grew, but this would disappoint even your mother to see you as wanton as you are for that beast. You will not see him again, and if either of you seek each other out, it will cost him his freedom.”

I flinched, the words bit into me and I felt tears form once again on the surface of my eyelids, but I did not blink, nor back down, “So what will you have of me, now that I am your depraved, sick, deranged prisoner?” I asked “Should I worship you? Kiss your feet for your bounteous generosity for saving me from my own choices? Or would you prefer your prisoners to stay silent, meek and submissive?”

“You will be grateful and you will follow my instructions with obedience. Do you understand?” His eyes were cold and heartless as he regarded me. “Your life will be easier once you start to see what I’m doing for you and you’ll thank me someday.”

I could not bring myself to beg anymore. I saw the finality of his words in his eyes. He intended to break me, and I was afraid there was no hope to be free this time.

[faustiandevil]

Depression makes a man do stupid things and here is what I did. Peter Lorre tier list, all movies (well the ones that were available online and in a language I could understand), all characters ranked in a highly scientific way. Feel free to defend your blorbos, but know this I’m right, you’re wrong, SHUDDUP!! (This is a reference I hope y’all get, but in any case do feel free to defend your blorbos I wanna hear y’alls takes.)

My reasonings under the cut. Enter, but be warned it truly is my twisted sick mind down there. If you scroll down long enough to see the Shining reference, I love you.

Bildreporter Johnny (F.P.1 antwortet nicht): No, no, no, no, no, no! Highly unfuckable look! Why does he look like an old man and a baby at the same time??? I can’t do this!!

Mr. Kentaro Moto (Mr. Moto Series): Racism. I’m sorry, I can’t. Absolutely hate it. Shit tier. Same goes with the movies. I only really liked Mr. Moto’s Gamble, which I found out was actually a Charlie Chan script asdfghjkl

Stephen Danel (Island of Doomed Men): Slave owner. Killed a monkey. Was kind of okay with his wife tho, until the end, I guess they needed a reason to off him.

Roderick Raskolnikov (Crime and Punishment): I’m putting him down on the list, because I read Crime and Punishment and the movie is way too ‘Murican. Already the names were bastardized and as someone who loves Russian literature I just can’t deal with that shit. He was okay, but ehhh… (The 1970 movie is way better, and Taratorkin is the best Rashkolnikov, fucking fight me.)

Nikolai Zaleshoff (Background to Danger): Again, butchering Russian names. Not even a patronymic. Kind of a caricature as well with all of the vodka drinking. And again he gets shot and for what??

Sergeant Berger (The Cross of Lorraine): I’m stronger. I will resist. The scene where he blows the cigarette smoke into the guy’s face and kicks him does things to me. I will admit. But that man is a nazi and I cannot in good consciousness put him anywhere else, but shit tier.

Captain Chang (They Met in Bombay): Glark Cable tolerable?? In my movie?? More likely than you think. Did not like the racism again. The beard is nice, so he goes slightly higher than shit tier.

Baron Ikito (Invisible Agent): He gets put in a slightly higher tier than shit tier only, because of the last line in the movie that made me very very gay. “I can make an honorable man out of you” like you can’t make him say shit like that I’m already a weak little homosexual!!

Hilary Cummins (The Beast With Five Fingers): This may be a surprise, but listen, hear me out, I have reasons. I cannot deal with an Astrology bitch. Like, yeah I also like to read my horrorscope every now and then, and I’m a Satanist, but I don’t vibe with that shit, he is too obsessed. Not every gay is gonna be into Asstrology. Also I cannot moan the name Hilary while giving this man dick without thinking of the Clinton woman. Also Cummins??? That’s an OnlyEnemies name. PS. The movie was bad when the hand turned out to be fake.

Julius O’Hara (Beat The Devil): Oh, no I’m not vibing with the hair again. I’m not into it. Loved his bullshitting, even if he is not very good at lying.

Conseil (20,000 Leagues Under the Sea): Liked seeing him together with my rich successful uncle Lukács, and had some nice fits in the movie, but it’s only slightly above shit tier. Saw tentacles, but got nothing. Absolutely disappointed.

Ahmed (Five Weeks in a Balloon): Racism again. Love his rainbow colored pants. The fez does nothing for me. Because of the earring he gets put higher than shit tier.

Pawlitschek (Bomben Auf Monte Carlo): He’s cute. He knows how to cook. Its fucking goulash of course, but ugggh fine I’ll eat it. Look I love you I’ll eat it. Fucking tourist food that no self-respecting Hungarian is going to touch. It’s just fucking soup.

Otto Fuesslli (What Women Dream Of): He is adorable. Clearly faking that piano play, but he sings like an angle. Docking points for being a cop tho. I’m sorry, but in this house we ain’t fucking cops.

Maj. Sigfried Gruning (Lancer Spy): Okay, I’m conflicted. Not sold on the hair, or the mustache, but I’m a military man, I love a uniform, he has a sword. (Babygirl you wanna see my sword~?) Uhhh… he also doesn’t do much in the movie.

Louis ‘The Dope’ Monteau (I’ll Give a Million): Adowable. A dumb baby. And that is why he only gets put in mid tier. Too cute for my taste. Still good for him and all the other poor homeless guys for pulling off the scam of the century on the rich bastards. Respect.

Polo (I Was An Adventuress): Same problem with Louis. He has too much boi energy. Every time I see that image where he looks up with them big ol’ eyes all I can think about is that meme the “Bitch use your words I don’t speak bottom”.

The Stranger (The Stranger on The Third Floor): Okay… uhm… this is a though one… There’s not much info on The Stranger, we don’t even know his name, we only know that he is mentally ill and killed a man. We all have our faults. I mean in this day and age who isn’t mentally ill and killed at least one person. So… mid tier. Like his scarf tho.

Paul Hyde (Mr. District Attorney): The way he got shot was bullshit. What the fuck was that about?? I hardly even remember this movie.

Joel Cairo (The Maltese Falcon): Okay… I gotta confess… I fucking hate the Maltese Falcon. There I said it. It just rubs me the wrong way that in book context and Hays code movie context Joel is gay and gets beaten up the most. Like finally a highly canon gay one for me and I get this home of phobia. Fuck this. Also I do not like Bogart and I think this movie started it lol.

Pepi (All Through the Night): I’mma get shit for this. But… but… hear me out… sometimes a man thinks with his dick and not with his brain. This is one of them. When he shows up at the bar, dressed up all nice, smoking his little cigarette… I’m weak. And yes I know he is a nazi, but I could fix him. I could fuck the fascism out of him. If not… well… //cocks gun// Mid tier, because I can’t put him higher than that. If not for the fascism he would be A tier.

Jan Bernazsky (The Conspirators): I remember nothing from this movie. I think he was a red herring. He goes in mid.

Slimane (Casbah): Casablanca the musical. Getting very gay vibes from Slimane. Why are you a detective? To catch other men. To hold them close after you shoot them. Wow faggy. Anyway, a bit conflicted and had to dock points, because again cop.

Toady (Rope of Sand): I only watched this movie, because Claude Rains is the same height as me and I was hoping to see them stand next to each other, so I can visualize the height difference. Got a very nice homosexual cig lit scene from it. I have no recollection of the movie besides that scene, but he looks fine.

Japanese Steward on the S.S. Carnatic (Around the World in Eighty Days): I can’t fuck a man on a boat I’ll get sea sick.

Kurt Bergner (The Buster Keaton Story): Were you channeling some other asshole director from your life? You looked like you knew what you were doing? Anyway, would fuck just so I could get my start in the movie industry, but this relationship ain’t gonna last longer than a headline.

Brankov (Silk Stockings): Glorious Technicolor~ I have issues with this movie. It’s the inferior Ninotchka. The Russian names are once again butchered. The dancing is nice. Go white boy, fuck up the dance floor!! Nothing else to say about it really.

Abdul (The Sad Sack): Mon petite~! If I justified Pepi being in mid-tier, I can do the same for Abdul. He was eager to kill Jerry Lewis’ character and I think the movie would have benefited from it. Still he can’t go higher, because of the… ehh… Hollywood racism. He would be top fucking tier otherwise.

Skeeter (The Big Circus): Not into clowns. (A contradictory statement. If you know you know.)

Montresor (Tales of Terror): I’m in a predicament, because I’m a cat lover and this man was mean to a cat. He is very hot tho. Sorry, babes, but you gotta go into the mid rankings. Also fix your alcohol problem, I cannot let Freud win.

Hans Beckert (M): Okay, this is going to be controversial putting the child murderer so high up on the list, but consider this. He is so pathetic when he gets thrown down the stairs that I just can’t not fuck him. I’m also willing to look past that besides murder he also probably did other things too (yeah that’s a bit harder to get past eugh…). The murder I’m fine with tho. I’m very often locked in a train car with screaming children and I mean that would make anyone start whistling the tune of Edvard Grieg’s In the Hall of the Mountain King. My dick could fix him, but if he wants to murder a child every now and then. I’m all for it.

Redakteur Stix (Die Koffer des Herrn O.F.): This man fucks. And I do mean HE fucks. Polo and Louis wish they were like Stix. He goes into A tier for terrorizing a whole town, getting laid, and getting the girl. Would you like to get the boy as well, hun~?

The General (Secret Agent): This look is absolute horrid… I fucking love it. For someone who is known to be a mustache lover I don’t ever want to see Peter with one. (I’m the one who wears the mustaches in this relationship.) This is an exception tho. It’s a gay disaster look. It’s so bad it’s hot. Extra points for the earring. (The ending to that movie was absolute bullshit tho. General your gun!!)

Prof. Sturm (Nancy Steele Is Missing!): I love it when he is a manipulative little bastard. Also he could have gotten away with it if it weren’t for someone having morals and loving his stolen adoptive child. Absolutely disgusting. The mustache and the glasses combo are acceptable (even if he looks like one of my high school teachers).

M’sieu Pig (Strange Cargo): The other incel. I’m docking points, because for most of the movie I had to watch Clark Gable be a misogynist and I already hate him. All this just to eyeball Peter Lorre… Anyway I would make that piggy squeal. A tier, but only because he shows off a bit of chest hair.

Fenninger (You’ll Find Out): Not particularly fond of this look. I like it better when his hair is a bit messy. Is one third of an evil gay polycule, so points to that. And also the long cig holder. Very gay, hun. And who can forget the og teeth. Would still drag my tongue across those chompers I don’t care what anyone says. (Mainly, because I also have similar fucked up looking messy teeth.)

Signor Ugarte (Casablanca): I’m putting him only in A tier, because he killed nazis at the start of the movie and is a desperate little homo, which is a trait I very much relate to. But Bogart… really… honey you could do so much better. Seriously y’all look me in the eye and tell me that Bogart is hot, when he plays these asshole characters. I’ll wait. Besides I’m right here. I’m ready to top you babe.

Marius (Passage To Marseilles): Love a man who is honest and proud of his professional achievements. And is very much good with his hands hello~ Dies (seriously why???) while fighting nazis. A bit of a scraggly look, but I love it. I also had to look up pics for this and turtlenecks make any man look slutty… and sir… your tits!! I need to feel them through the fabric~ Or just in general~

Dr. Einstein (Arsenic and Old Lace): He is a cute pathetic little meow meow. I want to (the following sentence had to be censored due to violating the Hays code). I am putting him only in A tier, because he is too popular, but I feel like that’s a personal bias.

Johannes Koenig (Hotel Berlin): Again a nice scraggly look. I love it~ He does get his shit together by the end and that’s good, but I wish he’d kept the five o’clock.

Contreras (Confidential Agent): I love a man who hates his job. So relatable. He does a big no no with being a sellout to the fascists, but he gets his just desserts and surprising doesn’t die from a gun, but a heart attack (and they pull a Weekend at Bernie’s with his corpse later on). He is really pathetic and I cannot control myself.

Johnny West (Three Strangers): //heavy breathing// I want him!! Finally a romantic role!! Babygirl yes!! I know you could do it!! If only you also took the money!!!!!!!!! For that last one he goes into A tier and not higher.

Gino (The Chase): Show off more of that chest hair, slut!! I would also not let this man drive (not that I can either). Besides babes the backseat has more space~

Nick (Quicksand): Blackmailing is fun when it’s not happening to you~ Also if we get together I could probably play the games for free. That’s a plus.

Paynter (Double Confession): This man was so desperate for approval. And y’all cannot tell me that he and Charlie weren’t a bit more than friends. Oh a man saves you and now you would do murders for him (except he’s a loser and is not okay with murder). Babe ditch him I would let you kill people for me. I’m not a pussy.

Dr. Karl Rothe/Dr. Karl Neumeister (The Lost One): Babygirl you have some deep rooted psychological issues that you should get checked out. Still, here’s my number. Call me, when you feel like choking me out, but not in a killing way. (Or maybe in a killing way, depends on how I feel.)

Colonel John Miguel Orlando Arragas (Congo Crossing): The straights looked at each other once and immediately kissed, so that set the tone for me. Anyway he is a cop, but he does do the right thing at the end, but still a cop. The uniform is nice. Doesn’t like his job much, so that’s kind of sexy. Eh, you know, what A tier. He is the exception. (I do hope he doesn’t expect me to say his entire name while I’m d(HAYS CODE) him down and making him swallow my (HAYS CODE).)

Nero (The Story of Mankind): Listen, I have some kinks… if you read my writings you know… I’m also drawn to a man with power, and money, and insanity. (I’m also really glad he didn’t have the chin beard like the real Nero, because that’s a deal breaker.)

Smiley (Scent of Mystery): Absolutely disappointed that this movie didn’t have a Dora the Explorer segment where the characters turn to the screen and ask the viewer if they can guess the mystery scent. Anyway hot. I love a man who knows how to be crafty regarding his job. Cheating, stealing, lying, all traits that make a honest Hungarian. Even stole someone’s wife just for the heck of it. Oh, honey~ Only A tier, because I can’t see this relationship going further than some fun in the backseat, but that’s probably enough.

Comm. Lucius Emery (Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea): He has a pet shark and wears a uniform. I’m already undoing my belt. This movie was… mmm… not good tho.

Dr. Adolphus Bedlo (The Raven): He is an abusive drunk parent. But he is so wet and pathetic. Frued won, I really am just gonna get together with someone who is like my dad (the real one not Béla).

Mr. Strangdour (Muscle Beach Party): He is the strongest man alive and yet I, his silly little kitten get to top him. My only problem with him is that I cannot for the life of me remember his name for some reason so I guess he just gotta deal with being called Sourdough and Stroganoff for the rest of his life. My concern is that his stupid kid is gonna walk in one day and go “Oh, you guys are wrestling, who’s winning? 8D” and I don’t want to deal with that.

Abbott (The Man Who Knew Too Much): He is evil, he is cunning, he has a neat little hair stripe just like me! Would also kill a child, which I personally don’t think is a terrible trait (as we saw earlier). Absolute snack! Baby I’ll be your dragon, I’ll be your right hand arm-man, your silly little homo eye candy!

Dr. Gogol (Mad Love): My favorite incel!! I wanna crack his bald head open with my canines like a hardboiled egg, call him a pathetic loser, and pin him against a wall and tongue him down! But seriously the man is the equivalent of a Reddit user, he has money tho, and if I could be his kept man, I wouldn’t mind.

Colonel Gimpy/Baron Rudolph Maximillian Tagger (Crack-Up): That scene where the plane is crashed into the ocean and his hair is wet and he looks up straight into the camera… //fans self// H-hewwo… daddy… sorry… daddy… sorry… Yeah, top tier. No question.

János ‘Johnny’ Szabó (The Face Behind The Mask): I refuse to use anything, but the correct Hungarian spelling, fuck you Hollywood. Kinda meh about him before the accident, way too happy and optimistic for my liking. I like a man who is bitter and ready to kill. Also something about masks just gives people a certain allure. Gets extra points for being the only Hungarian character Peter ever played and judging from the letter he writes back home, Johnny actually knows the language haha. I wouldn’t have to translate him my stupid memes, we could just switch back and forth. Domestic bliss.

Dr. Arthur Lorencz (The Boogie Man Will Get You): Top fucking tier! The most guy ever! He is a politician, he sells snake oil, he is a doctor, and also the town sheriff, cat lover, gay! Is there something this man can’t do! Love him!

Fritz Bercovy (The Constant Nymph): I know that in the book the character is supposed to be a very antisemitic caricature, but I think it was rewritten in the movie. Also I tried multiple times to check how old Toni is, but I only kept finding it for Tessa, so I’mma just gonna give him the benefit of the doubt and say that Fritz is not a groomer, unlike Lewis. With all that out of the way, I have a confessions to make. This character sent me over the edge and I did a Peter Lorre expy in my novel. I am weak. I saw him in the fur with the cane (and the whole club was looking at her) and… he really be doing boyfriend cosplay with one of my main characters. Also he has money and is willing to spend it on his SO, so… //twirls hair// I’d love to be a kept man~

Cornelius Leyden (The Mask of Dimitrios): This man was put on this wretched Earth to wear bowties and by Lucifer he makes them look good. Also he has little gray hairs on the side. And glasses!!! //heavy breathing// I need to make him scream my name all through the night!

Peter Lorre (Hollywood Canteen): That’s just my mans! That’s just my guy! That’s just my husband! My sweet cheese! My rotten soldier! My good time BOI! How could I not put him at the top? (Disclaimer: The only one topping that man is me ayyyy)

Marko (Black Angel): This man really cannot sit normally, huh. Anyway, he was hot, fruity, and a loving father. And the movie wasn’t bad either. I was actually rooting for the straights in this one.

Victor Emmric (The Verdict): Oh, he is husband material. He is a morbid little bastard, and is also romantic. A bit on the drunk side, but I don’t care. He’s hot. Would love to do art trades with him.

Kismet (My Favourite Brunette): This man is MY favourite brunette. My nasty boyfriend who holds me at knife point and spits in my mouth and calls me his bitch~ (Is that a knife in your pocket or are you just happy to see me~) I would also help this man get his citizenship.

Peter Lorre (Meet Me in Las Vegas): People who say that they are only into him when he is young and slim are weak as fuck. Oh, so just because this man is old and fat and his biological clock is not ticking anymore you don’t wanna try and get him preganant anymore??? Move over!! I’ll give this man evil milk (read: cum).

Commissioner Lamoret (Hell Ship Mutiny): I love a man who absolutely hates his job and just wants an easy life and is also willing to murder a child for it. We have so much in common~ And with my help, we would have gotten away with it. We’d be spending retirement in Bora Bora, baybeh.

Felix Gillie (The Comedy of Terrors): You see that man? That man, is my husband. We are married. He supports me and I support him. I would lie in the coffin that he made for me. I know that most peeps fall for him in Arsenic, well I’m different. I have the Father Issues and I want stability and I feel like Felix would give that to me.

Morgan Heywood (The Patsy): He was suffering, I was suffering, there was a collective suffering with this movie. Our meet-cute is me absolutely going feral and killing Jerry Lewis right in front of him. Our eyes lock as I’m covered in blood and the cops take me away. He falls in love with me right then and there. Conjugal visits right until the end of my life sentence.

Okay, y'all can go now~

[xtaketwox]

Summary: Everyone is born with an arrow on their hand that points toward their soulmate on their eighteenth birthday. When Lucien comes to find Elain after the arrow on her hand led Graysen to dump her on her birthday, she tells him to leave and not contact her again. Nine years later, their paths cross once more and Lucien makes it his mission to woo Elain.

Fic Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Chapter Length: 3018 words

Masterlist; Read on AO3

A/N: Many thanks to @itsthedoodle for both the header and for beta reading. 💕 Let me know if you'd like to be added to a tag list for the fic. 😊

Chapter 1

“Only three more minutes until we find out you’re mine.”

Elain bit her lip against a smile, her heart beating faster at Graysen’s words. Only three minutes until the arrow on her hand turned towards her soulmate. Graysen had turned eighteen three months ago and the arrow on his hand hadn’t changed. He had assured Elain that it just meant she was for sure his soulmate. 

Elain and Graysen had been dating since the first week of high school. They had attended different elementary and middle schools, but the very first day of freshman year, Graysen had asked her out. Elain had immediately said yes, flattered that someone as popular and hot as Graysen had asked her out, and they had been nearly inseparable ever since. Elain didn’t go anywhere without Graysen coming along. She didn’t have many friends, so it only made sense that she spent all of her time with him. 

He was her first everything. First boyfriend. First kiss. First lover. Plenty of people had been telling her she was too serious with him, that they were too young to be so intertwined, especially with the threat of having a soulmate hanging over their head. Most people held off getting serious with someone until after their eighteenth birthday, just in case a soulmate appeared, but Elain ignored the warnings because she loved spending time with Graysen. He made her feel special, especially since he had chosen her over all the other girls. She knew she was the envy of girls and boys alike, and even though she knew she shouldn’t like that, she did. 

“What if it doesn’t point to you?” Elain asked now, anxiety gnawing at her. Graysen had to be her soulmate. They were too perfect for each other. At least, that’s what Graysen kept telling her every time Elain had brought up the horrifying possibility that the arrow on her hand would point to somewhere—someone—else.

“It’ll point to me.” 

“Why are you so sure?”

“Because we’re too perfect together. It doesn’t make sense for us not to be soulmates.”

Elain bit her lip but didn’t respond, every heartbeat feeling as if it was counting down to her doom, despite Graysen’s assurances. She wished she could stop time from passing. If the arrow on her hand didn’t point to Graysen, if she learned they weren’t meant to be together, she didn’t want to know. He was her whole world and she didn’t want anyone else. 

“Even if it does point somewhere else,” Elain said after another minute passed, sixty seconds closer to the point of no return, “you know I only want you, right?”

Graysen chuckled. “You worry too much. It doesn’t matter because it’s not going to happen. We’re meant to be.”

He reached out, clasping her hand between his two large ones, his own arrow-covered hand pointing down at the floor. “No peeking. We have less than a minute left. We’ll look together and then you’ll see that I was right and you were worried for nothing.”

Despite Graysen’s confidence, Elain couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom as the clock ticked down the last moments of her seventeenth year. She hated this. She didn’t care about the arrow on her hand. She was in charge of her own life, could make her own decisions. She didn’t need an arrow to point to Graysen to know he was who she wanted. 

The grandfather clock in the other room went off, the clanging bells announcing the arrival of midnight, each chime ringing in her ears. “Ready?” Graysen gave her a smile that Elain couldn’t return. She swallowed hard and nodded. They both looked down as Graysen removed his hands.

“No,” Elain breathed.

They both stared in stunned silence at the arrow on Elain’s hand, pointing to the right, away from Graysen. Elain suddenly very grateful she hadn’t let Graysen talk her into having a birthday party like most people did. Normally Elain loved parties, despite rarely having the time for them between work and school, but she had wanted this moment to be just between her and Graysen. Just the two of them celebrating what they had always known: they were meant to be.

Except they weren’t. 

Elain pulled her hand away, hiding it behind her back. “It doesn’t matter.”

Graysen was still staring at the spot her hand had been, silent, and Elain felt dread wash over her at his silence.

“Graysen,” Elain said, not caring that her voice sounded desperate, “it doesn’t matter what some stupid arrow on my hand says. I want you.” Her heart pounded and her breath quickened, spot forming in her eyes as she gasped, as if she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She sat down as her anxiety finally boiled over. “Please say something.”

Graysen looked at her and she recoiled from the barely contained anger on his face. “What’s there to say? You belong to someone else.”

Shock washed over and Elain quickly stood once again, shaking her head rapidly from side to side. “I belong to no one.” She reached for him, but Graysen quickly stepped back, leaning away from her. “Please,” she pleaded, her voice wavering as tears began building behind her eyes. “I don’t care if the Mother thinks someone else is my soulmate. You’re the only soulmate I want.”

Graysen stared at her a moment and then his eyes hardened. “But I’m not the soulmate you got and I’m not about to spend the rest of my life with someone else’s soulmate.”

Elain inhaled sharply, her chest feeling like it was cracking in two. “What are you saying?”

Elain shrank back at the venom on Graysen’s face as he replied, “I’m saying we’re over.”

The tears that had gathered in her eyes spilled over as Elain shook her head. “No. You don’t mean that.” Her voice broke and she sucked in a breath, blinking rapidly. 

Graysen laughed, his tone sharp. “I definitely mean it. There’s no point in dating anymore. Not when you belong to another man.”

Elain balled her hands into fists. “Stop saying that! I don’t belong to anyone.” She stepped towards him. “We love each other. That’s all that matters.” 

Graysen scoffed and Elain took a step back at the pure venom in his eyes. “Please. Grow up, Elain.”

“What?”

“You think love is enough? You think your soulmate won’t come here and you won’t immediately choose him over me? I’m not going to wait around while you live in some fantasy land.” He pointed to her hand and she barely resisted the urge to hide it behind her back, as if it were evidence to some crime and not simply proof that she had a soulmate that wasn’t Graysen. “That arrow is pointing to some stranger who’s going to come looking for you, and I would be an absolute moron to just sit around waiting for that to happen. Everyone chooses their soulmate. So get your head out of the fucking clouds and realize that there is nothing you can say or do that will change the fact that you and I don’t belong together.”

Elain’s heart felt like it was cracking in her chest. This couldn’t be happening. Graysen had promised her they were meant to be, that nothing could come between them. He’d promised her. “You can’t mean that,” she whispered, tears falling freely down her cheeks. 

“Yeah, well I do.” 

Graysen turned and walked out of her room, slamming the door behind him. 

~~~~~~

Feyre found Elain curled on her side on the couch staring blankly at a wall when she came down for breakfast the next morning.

“Happy Bir—” Feyre halted and then rushed over. “Elain? What happened?”

Elain shook her head, silent tears sliding down her face. She hadn’t slept, had instead been replaying Graysen’s awful words over and over the whole night. 

“Did Graysen do something?” Feyre’s voice was hard. “If he hurt you—”

Elain shook her head. “He didn’t do anything.” Her voice was hoarse, as if the screaming in the back of her head had been real. 

Feyre was silent for a moment, observing Elain before whispering, “You’re scaring me. What happened?”

Elain cupped the back of her hand, hiding the offending arrow from view, but said nothing, unable to speak the words, as if not speaking them would keep them from being true. Feyre’s eyes tracked the movement before she sagged.

“Graysen’s not your soulmate.”

Elain closed her eyes, hugging her hand close, but didn’t respond. After a long moment, Feyre spoke again, her voice not unkind. “I warned you this could happen.” She sighed, and some part of Elain was aware she was being ridiculous as Feyre gently tugged her to her feet. “Lets at least get you to your room.”

Elain followed behind as Feyre pulled her down the hall to the room that had once belonged to Nesta, before she had left them on her own eighteenth birthday the year prior. Feyre pulled back the covers of her bed and she laid down in a daze, not bothering to change out of her clothes from the previous evening before pulling the covers over her head. She heard Feyre leave, closing the door softly behind her. 

Elain stared at the pattern of her bedspread where a sunbeam hit it, trying to will herself to stop being so dramatic, to get out of bed. A voice in the back of her head told her she was ridiculous for being so upset over a boy, but she squashed it. She didn’t care if it made her a bad feminist, didn’t care if it made her pathetic, didn’t care if anyone thought she was overreacting. She loved Graysen, had planned to spend the rest of her life with him, regardless of whether or not he was her soulmate, because she knew they belonged together. The Mother or universe or whoever didn’t know what they were doing when they didn’t pair her with him. She wouldn’t accept that Graysen wasn’t who she was meant to be with. She just had to figure out how to convince him that none of it mattered, that only they mattered. 

~~~~~~

Graysen refused her calls the rest of the weekend and loudly called Elain pathetic for not accepting that they were over when she approached him at school the next day. It was easily the worst day of her life; not only did she have to endure Graysen’s loudly proclaimed rejection, she then had to spend the rest of the day pretending she didn’t see the pity on people’s faces, didn’t hear the whispers and snickers behind her back as she walked alone from class to class. 

She called her job and pretended to be sick after school. She didn’t think she could handle trying to put on a cheerful face with customers. Instead, she went back to her room, fell into bed, and covered her head with her comforter once more. The only time she moved was to find a pair of gloves to pull over her hands so she didn’t have to see the offensive arrow that she knew wasn’t pointing towards Graysen.

Every day followed much the same until before she knew it, a week had passed and Feyre barged in without knocking.

“Listen. I’ve tried to be understanding, and I get that this is difficult Elain, but you can’t just not show up to work for a week straight.” Feyre pulled down the comforter, the worry in her eyes at odds with the harshness of her tone. “I talked to Mrs. Gibson and convinced her you were really sick so she wouldn’t fire you, but I told her you were getting better and would be in tomorrow.” She crossed her arms. “Can I count on you to go to work tomorrow?”

Elain swallowed, guilt flooding her as she realized the added burden she’d put on her sister. As it was, they could barely make ends meet between Elain’s job and Feyre’s, not with the way their father had been so absent since their mother’s death, unable to hold a job of his own. She wondered if he had even noticed she was upset. She blinked when it hit her that she was acting just like him and further shame filled her. She was failing Feyre just like everyone else in their life had, and that was unacceptable. She nodded. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’ll go to work tomorrow.”

The relief on Feyre’s face was obvious as she sagged a bit. “Good.” She turned to leave, but when she reached the door, she turned back. “Thank you.” She bit her lip. “For what it’s worth, Graysen isn’t worth your time, but…I’m sorry you’re having to go through this.”

Elain ducked her head in thanks, worried if she responded her voice would sound watery. After Feyre closed the door, Elain swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded to her dresser, pulling out a change of clothes. She couldn’t remember the last time she had showered, which meant it was definitely time to shower. 

When she emerged from the shower, feeling refreshed, she headed into the kitchen. She also couldn’t recall the last time she had eaten. She passed their father’s bedroom door on her way, saw him sitting and whittling at a piece of wood by his window. She made a vow to herself at that moment that she wouldn’t allow herself to end up like him again. No matter how much it hurt, she wouldn’t let Graysen’s rejection rob her of her joy in life. 

Feeling strangely light at the promise to herself, she continued on to the kitchen, smiling as her stomach growled. 

~~~~~~~~

A couple days later, when Feyre was at work, there was a knock at the door. Elain frowned, wondering who it could be. They rarely ordered packages, choosing to conserve what little money they had for the necessities, nor did either of them have many friends. 

Elain was in the process of kneading bread dough, so she went first to rinse her hands before heading to the door. When she opened it, mouth open in greeting, she froze. Before her, an apologetic look on his face, was the most handsome man she’d seen in real life. A small part of her recoiled at finding anyone more attractive than Graysen, but there was no denying this man was gorgeous. His long, deep red hair was braided away from his face on the sides, falling in a wavy sheet down his back. His golden brown skin complimented the russet brown shade of his eyes, and he was so tall that Elain had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. 

Without glancing to the arrow on her hand, she knew who he was. Only then did she realize he was looking at her with his own mouth open, seeming equally stunned. 

He regained his composure before she did, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry to bother you.” He lifted his hand, showing her the arrow on the back which was pointing directly to her. “I think we’re soulmates.” He winced when Elain just continued to stare at him, at a loss for words.

There was a dull roaring in her ears as she stared at the very attractive man in front of her. He looked to be several years older than herself, and had probably only just noticed that the arrow on his hand was pointing somewhere and come looking for her. 

“I’m Lucien,” he said. “Lucien Van—Day.”

“Lucien Van Day?” Elain parroted back.

He winced again. “Just Day. Lucien Day. It’s…a long story.”

“I’m Elain.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper, her emotions roiling the longer she stared at Lucien. 

She knew it wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t help but feel that Lucien was the reason Graysen had left her, that he was the reason for everything being so awful in her life. Without another word, she turned and started to close the door before Lucien stuck his foot in it.

“Wait.” 

She tensed, not turning around. 

“I—” Lucien didn’t seem to know what to make of her behavior, her refusal of him. “Do you want to talk?”

Elain turned around, hugging her arms to herself, and willed some of Nesta’s steel into her eyes and voice as she said, “No.”

Lucien blinked at her. “No?”

Elain stared hard at him, fingers cutting into her arms as she resisted the urge to apologize for the hurt that flitted behind his eyes. “No.”

“But…” Lucien trailed off before shaking his head. “How can you not want to get to know me?”

Elain narrowed her eyes at him, and when she spoke, the venom in her voice surprised even her. “Why? Because you’re so wonderful?”

“That’s—that’s not what I meant,” Lucien said, his gaze volleying back and forth between her eyes. She swallowed and refused to look away, willing him to see she wanted nothing to do with him. “We’re soulmates though. Aren’t you at least curious?”

Despite her resolve not to, Elain looked away, not answering. This man, regardless of how beautiful he was, was not Graysen. She didn’t wish to harm him intentionally, but neither did she want anything to do with him. Perhaps if she just ignored him, he would get the hint and leave. 

“I don’t understand.”

Elain dropped her gaze to where her fingers were digging into her arms. The silence between them was palpable as Elain refused to look at him, but when he didn’t move, she said softly, “Please leave and don’t contact me again.”

She heard him swallow before he said, “Very well.” She watched his feet turn and start to walk away before he paused at the door. “If you ever change your mind, you only have to contact me.”

Elain didn’t respond, but his name echoed through her mind and she knew it would be branded there the rest of her days. Lucien Day.

Without another word, he walked away, and Elain closed the door and went in search of her gloves.

[chocobothis]

I think one of the major villains of this season of The Mandalorian is going to, in fact, be The Armorer. There’s a lot of different things she’s said or even how her armor looks that makes things questionable, even more so with knowing what we know with Moff Gideon.

This is built entirely from my rambling so please picture the Charlie Day with String Meme. I’ve not reread this and likely want. I just wanna share my believed theories with everyone else because it’s fun. Could I be proven dead wrong? Totally! This is my theories written entirely from what I’ve picked up and how I would write things with The Mandalorian

Let’s start with the one thing that’s been visible every single season: her armor, specifically her helmet. It’s a more subtle style but it is one we’ve seen before with Darth Maul’s Super Commandos. They all wore red armor with the horn pattern on their helmets. We’ve already been given context clues that she’s older than Din because she saw Mandalore before it fell.

We get it from her discussing having seen the Great Forge on Mandalore a light with a hundred smiths. I’m willing to argue that means she saw it before The New Mandalorians took power. We also have what I have listed in the point below.

Second comes from when she was talking to Bo-Katan about the mythosaur. She mentioned that she thought it was just a myth. That’s not something we’ve seen with the ones who grew up within the Children of the Watch. But! It is something Bo-Katan professed before that it’s just myth. So, that implies that she also was a different type of Mandalorian before becoming The Armorer. 

A subpoint to the above is that in previous seasons she’s leaned into the myths with the Watch members. It was something she privately thought false but proclaimed true. After all, she said Mandalore was Destroyed and Cursed. She also used improperly gaining the Darksaber as why Bo-Katan was doomed to fail.

Third we have to talk about Moff Gideon’s escape. The transport he was in was attacked and he was extracted, presumably alive, with some beskar left behind. I personally find it weird that there’s a sliver of it left behind because this armor can take blows from lightsabers and blasters. Why in the stars could they have on a prison transport that would shatter a piece of armor and not leave body? It’s also specifically silver beskar.

I’ve seen someone point out this could be Din being sat up because he’s the only one with unpainted beskar armor that is Notable. Which I easily see because there’s politics at play here too.

This is also something the Armorer would have access to considering she runs the forge.

All of this comes together for me to believe the Armorer is setting Bo-Katan up to clash with Din. Being older she knew of Bo’s want to lead Mandalore and her ambition has always been a defining trait. She’s Bo-Katan Kryze of Clan Kryze, House Kryze. She was second-in-command of Death Watch, when people chose to follow Maul she fought (with Ahsoka) to take back Mandalore, and more. It’s easy to assume that what’s currently happening is a minor setback and fiery, ambitious, cutthroat Bo-Katan will reappear. Someone who she can turn toward Din to take back the Darksaber. From there she can dispose of Bo-Katan, if she’s not a good “face”, and have rule of a united Mandalore. 

I do think Bo-Katan’s aware that there’s several thing at play with the Armorer’s interest in her. She wasn’t born yesterday, has lived through so many wars, and was raised in a political family. Nothing is ever at face value with leaders.

It’s also what makes her a good counter to Din who is a novice with politics and is blind to the Armorer’s possible actions. Because he’s got a blind spot for her as the leader of his Covert.

My reasoning for her disliking Din comes from how he conducts himself. Why did he break the Creed? It was entirely to save Grogu and nothing more or less. We saw Paz talk about giving up on Ragnar; that’s something Din wouldn’t do. Instead of accepting that he was forever an Apostate because the Living Waters were “destroyed” he proved otherwise. It shows he’s willing to question her authority. Having the Darksaber means it would be easy for him to get followers if he really wanted to. Instead, he’s done the opposite while actively trying to get rid of the damn thing. He also easily gains allies as shown throughout the seasons. A leader who makes easy allies while not seeking power is a dangerous leader because that can’t be bought with more power.

Moff Gideon comes into the this because of his connection to the Empire, Mandalore, and Din. Because going back to the Super Commandos, a group I believe the Armorer was part of initially, who did they follow after Darth Maul? The Empire. His connection to Mandalore comes from his destruction of it and possession of the Darksaber. Who is a sort of Public Enemy Number 1 for Mandalorians? The Moff himself. Finally, and most important, there’s the connection to Din. They clashed on Nevarro, he captured Grogu, and served as a prime antagonist for Din because of who he’s threatened.

How the Moff’s part is going to play out is something I’m still working on. Taking him from the shuttle and killing the crew makes this a New Republic Problem. They have the manpower to hunt down a war criminal to save face. Now, either Din’s potentially being framed as rescuing him for pay (he was a bounty hunter and he is publicly connected to Boba Fett) or he’s being framed as potentially springing him to personally kill him. However, I think the actual plan is to use him for power and a spectacle. Either the Armorer is going to cut a deal with him again because the Super Commandos were never picky about how they got Power as long as they go it. Her Mandalore gets favorable treatment from the Empire Remnants and he gets free. The other option is she cuts a deal, backstabs him later on, and makes his execution (however it happens) into a massive spectacle. Because now the man who caused The Night of a Thousand Tears is dead by a Mandalorian’s hand.

There’s less of a place to tuck this in but I do believe her main plan is to unite Mandalore under “The Mandalorian Creed” that the Children of the Watch follows. Because she told Bo as much when they had the meeting on Nevarro. Instead, what I think it going to happen with a United Mandalore is Din and Bo will end up making some version of the Resol’nare from Legends. It’s six tenants that all Mandalorians follow but it’s less strict that the Creed we’ve been shown. Because if this is going to be a new age for Mandalore it makes sense it would be heralded by Bo and Din (who technically was seen by the Mythosaur even if he was a little unconscious) that unites their principles and love for their people.

I’ll end this with my less serious, cracky theory that the Armorer is a member of Clan Saxon. This is built entirely from how I view her connection to Moff Gideon/the Empire and how in Rebels both Saxons were pains in the ass who partnered up with the Empire. It’s also a potentially neat way to bring in Thrawn because Thrawn was in contact with Tiber Saxon.

[sovonight]

the comprehensive xan x radri post! unlike their tag, everything here is categorized and sorted in nice chronological order 💖

last updated: 1 / 2 / 2024

— — —✧✧✧— — —

baldur’s gate i

— — —✧✧✧— — —

The Outline

—✧✧✧—

Xan: *sigh* Go ahead. Ask me why a mage carries a sword around.

Radri: Wh—what?

Xan: You were staring, and quite obviously. The sooner I satisfy your curiosity, the sooner we can direct our attention back to the dangers that surround us, so that we may endeavor to survive the day ahead.

Radri: O-oh, that's not why I... I'm sorry. It's a moonblade, isn't it? You don't need to explain.

Xan: So you are instead surprised that I so severely contradict the tales told of our people, for I do not sing songs and revel in the joys of life? *sigh* I've heard it all before, and I—

Radri: What? No! I'm sorry—I should just take my leave!

—

(In the early morning, at the inn.)

Radri, pleadingly: Imoennn, you know I need you to bargain with the shopkeeper for me!

Imoen: Bargain with 'em yourself. 'M sleeping.

Radri: Please, Imoen, no one else can do! You're so charming and peppy and disarming—

Imoen, pulling the covers back over her head: 'N exhausted! Jus' fork over the extra gold pieces, who cares.

(Radri steps out of the room, letting the door close behind her and falling back against it with a huff.)

Radri: Ugh! Really— (She freezes, realizing she's not alone in the hallway: Xan is there, mid-stride, just passing by.)

Xan: Is something wrong?

Radri, embarrassed, straightening immediately: No! Nothing. I—I'm headed to the store before everyone else wakes. Do you... need anything?

Xan: No; I have all I need, and an excess of supplies can just as readily doom a party as a lack of them. But shall I assist you?

—

(Xan glances over at Radri, who is very rigidly looking ahead, and sighs.)

Xan: I should not have said anything yesterday. It was presumptuous of me, and it is far worse to have your gaze avoid me entirely.

(Radri gives him a startled glance, then looks back away quickly.)

Radri: No, no—I'm sorry. It was rude of me. I'm just unused to being in the company of another elf... and a stranger.

Xan: You have known the others for a long time, then?

Radri: Oh, no. Imoen, sure, but I only met Jaheira and Khalid a couple weeks ago. But because they knew my father, they don't feel quite so much like strangers. Not to mention, one only has to nod through Jaheira's conversations to survive them... and Khalid does not ask more than pleasantries.

Xan: I see. Since I ask more than pleasantries, do I trouble you?

Radri, panicking: No! Not at all. It's refreshing, if anything. And really, I—I'm grateful for your help, I mean, to travel alongside a defender of Elvendom, is...

Xan, subdued: Do not think the moonblade makes me invincible, Radri. It is often more trouble than it is worth. And you should save your praise: I have not yet accomplished anything in service to you beyond placing myself in your debt.

(Radri glances over at him again, daring for the first time since Nashkel to actually catch a proper glimpse of his face: his expression is solemn, and his dark eyes are dull. The rest of the walk is spent in silence, until at last they reach the shop. Xan holds the door open for her.)

Xan: Imoen is usually the face of your transactions, I gather?

Radri, embarrassed: You heard all that earlier?

Xan: I can serve in her place, if you wish.

Radri: Oh—yes, thank you! Here, I have a list…

—✧✧✧—

Imoen: Radri... Radri! Whatcha doing, spacing out? You've gotta stir, or the stew's gonna burn!

Radri: Oh—sorry, Imoen.

Imoen: Really, if you'd had any chores back at ol' Puffgut's place, he woulda chewed you out already. What's on your mind, anyway?

(Radri's gaze drifts away from the cooking fire and back over to Xan, who's working on his spellbook alone. Imoen follows her line of sight, and looks back at her in apprehension.)

Imoen: Oh, no. Don't tell me you've let his attitude infect ya.

Radri: No, I… (She hesitates, wondering if she should share.) I walked with him in his memories, last night, of Evereska. It was so beautiful... his eyes shone as he spoke… but when we woke from reverie, it was all gone. Sharing his memories with me had only made things worse. And worse still, I didn't know what to say.

Imoen: I don't think even the best speaker on Faerun could brighten his day, Radri. Don't let it weigh on ya.

Radri: *sigh*...

Imoen: *gasp* He's already gotten to ya! Radri, quick, ya gotta smile—it's the only way!

Radri: Imoen, hold on—stop! I'm smiling, I'm smiling—the stew!

—✧✧✧—

Compounding Fluster [crossposted on ao3]

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Poor Substitute

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Special Treatment (skip the second one in the link, it comes later)

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Firewood

—✧✧✧—

By the Fire

—✧✧✧—

(Xan exits the inn with enough haste to send the lit lantern by the door frame swinging slightly on its hook. The lantern illuminates a quiet side street, and its light conveniently slants over the alcove in which Radri sits, quiet and curled up with a book, against the wall of the building. Radri looks up at his arrival; even from here, with a view only of the back of his head, she can gather that he's searching for something he lost.)

Radri: Xan? Are you looking for something?

Xan, turning quickly, relieved: Radri!

(In an instant, she recognizes that he was, in fact, searching for her. It’s a habit of hers to slip away—Imoen had assured Jaheira and Khalid of that, in the early days. Surely Xan had been met with the same exchange, and yet here he is. In a way, she can’t help but feel flattered.)

Xan: Why are you not inside with the others?

Radri: It's... a little loud inside. Too much noise…

(Now that she says it out loud, the reason sounds silly to her ears, but he doesn’t question it.)

Xan: I see. Still, I would feel better if you were not out here alone.

Radri, gesturing to the spot beside her: There's room for you, if you'd like. 

Xan: If a shadow in the night emerges to slit our throats, I will not have the awareness or the speed to protect you, I fear. But perhaps my death would grant you some time to escape…. Very well, if you will have me. 

(He joins her, and at this angle, catches the name of the book she's reading.)

Xan: The Dead Three? Of all the books that you have rifled through in search of spells and gold in our travels, I did not know you had deigned to take any one title with you. 

Radri: This was Firebead's reward; I couldn't bring myself to sell it.

(She returns her gaze to the book, and sighs.)

Radri: I don't know why I keep returning to it. I'm not even reading the words anymore. I know the story, I just…

(She hesitates; what lingers on her mind is something she has been unable to utter to the others, and that she has even avoided confronting in words herself. It is a fear, really, one that the others would surely attempt to talk her out of… but not Xan. Haltingly, she speaks.)

Radri: …Do you ever feel like you're standing on a precipice? …At the very edge of falling. And it's as if… the body knows what lies beyond the edge, and is pulled to meet it… but the mind holds it back.

(With her eyes gazing distantly through the book’s pages, Radri fails to catch the responding quiet, longing glance that Xan sends her way.)

Xan: ...Yes. (Then he looks away, disappointed in himself to admit,) I experience the sensation daily.

Radri: I fear it, I think, but there's no use in dread, nor anticipation. What waits for me is already here. And I… and I….

(Radri falls into silence, feeling a chill move up her neck; on the book's open pages, her hand has begun to tremble. She flips the book shut, and grips it closed tightly.)

Radri: But never mind. It's getting cold, and late, and I shouldn't keep you here any longer. Shall we go to bed?

(She stands, and offers her hand to him. Xan stares at her.)

Xan: To bed?

Radri, pink: Oh—I'm sorry. To reverie, I mean. (Her offered hand withdraws partially, subconsciously, as she reflects to herself,) Though I suppose after so many nights, you must long for quiet, too. N-never mind. I'll ask Imoen—

(She doesn’t want to be left alone tonight, and Imoen’s unconscious company is better than none. But then Xan, composed again, accepts her hand before her doubt can rescind it.)

Xan: No, let us go together. Though it can only be a temporary illusion, I find a peace of mind in our rest together.

Radri: Really? (She ducks her head, her gaze drawn to the comforting sight of their joined hands, a touch which has already begun to take the chill away.) I'm... I'm relieved that I have not yet imposed on your kindness.

Xan, distantly, to himself: "Kindness." I wonder if it is….

—✧✧✧—

[crossposted on ao3]

"Will you guide me?" Radri asks.

"Guide?" Xan echoes, then gestures around them with a shrug. "It is a standard estate. There is the entrance hall, the drawing room, the parlor—"

"I lived in Candlekeep, Xan," Radri says, "The structures of "standard" living spaces are not exactly known to me."

"You say this as though there are no tomes on floor plans and architecture—but, no, I see that they must have been too dry for you to grant them your attention," Xan says.

He sighs, and holds out his hand.

"Very well... I will give you the tour."

Her hand slips easily into his, and a familiar jolt of joy and disbelief flits through her heart, unchanging no matter how many times now she has taken his hand. Unlike in the waking world, where their clasped hands facilitate the link between their minds, here, the gesture holds no practical use. For how readily and naturally he offers, this must all be second nature to him—but somehow, she's unable to reconcile the image of his offered, open hand with the way that she has so often seen him draw his cloak tighter around himself, as though the fabric were a barrier that could close him off from the world.

As they walk, Xan speaks in his low and solemn tone, describing to her the history in these halls; in the portraits, and artifacts; in the people that walk past, the figures of memory, their faces bearing a dreamlike quality. Radri finds herself staring, turning to look at them as they pass, subconsciously slowing until Xan's hand on hers acts as a tug.

"Come," he says, "We have almost reached the garden." She notes that they are already leaving the interior after only having passed through the common areas—wherever the chambers may lie, they are above, or further within.

Scattered sunlight spills in through the windows, filtered by the leaves that rustle gently against the panes from the outside. Warm yellow and deep green tones, abstracted by the thickness of the glass, make the windows appear to glow from within. Ahead, a rectangle of sunlight marks the presence of a set of glass doors, and they pass through them to a veranda, where the greens and yellows of earlier burst into detail and bleed vibrancy into the air around them, filling their surroundings with color.

Here, her hand falls from his, and her feet take her ahead on their own. A path, lined with flowers, winds into the swaying shadows of the trees, and her steps slow in these shadows, falling easily into silence.

"Radri?" Xan calls, with some worry, to have seen her disappear—but Radri does not call back, her hand pressed to her silent smile. There is no danger here in the calm of the past; perhaps she will loop back and surprise him, or perhaps he will follow. There sounds a rustle of leaves, a dragging of fabric—yes, he will follow.

She keeps two steps ahead, and yet traces a rhythm that she remembers easily, a pattern that she had learned at Candlekeep. Its memorization had been inevitable seeing as, for years, she'd had only the same set of shadows to train in. It is no wonder, she thinks idly, that her skills had remained in plateau until she had left. Her eyes, half lidded, can make out the obstacles now: this path to silently round the hay bales... these steps to slip past the barrel... this way to reach the door, and with practice, open the door without a sound. To her surprise, her hand, outstretched in memory, finds a handle. It is not crafted in an elegant arc, like the ones inside the estate, but bent into the bold angles of a firm, humble bracket. A flash of dread passes through her, but it is too late: she pulls.

The man behind the door turns at her entry, and his eyes gleam in satisfaction and glee.

"Oh, goodie goodie!" He cries, "I've gone and found ye first! You are the ward of Gorion, no doubt?"

Her mouth works, but her voice is gone, stolen by the sensation that has numbed her and turned her legs to lead. 

"Not much of a talker, eh? I apologize for this sordid business, but I must have your head," he says, and advances upon her, bearing the tell-tale glint of a blade. With a vicious grin, he drives the dagger forward to meet her, and though her body tenses, knowing how to escape, she can't move—she can't move—

Her eyes shut tight, and a hand grasps her arm, pulling her sharply back. There is a clatter, followed by a heavy, dead thud, and she is spun around by her shoulder, as another hand comes to her cheek—trembling, light—Xan.

"Radri... Radri? Please... look at me."

But when she looks, she does not meet his eye; her gaze drawn away, cast back over her shoulder at the fallen man, who lies not dead, but unconscious.

"It is only a memory," Xan reminds her, drawing her away. The door closes, and they are back in the garden—but, her heart beating fast and high in her throat, she pulls away.

Away, away, and out of reverie. The night air is cold on her skin; her pillow is damp against the back of her neck; and her hand, clasped in Xan's, is nearly slick with sweat. Tugging herself free, Radri curls onto her side, moments before Xan gasps belatedly awake beside her.

She hears him shift, turning to her... then pause, silent, no doubt forming what he wants to say.

"Candlekeep," Radri says for him, cutting his unspoken question off before he can say it. "It happened in Candlekeep."

"I had thought that the first attempt on your life happened at the Friendly Arm," Xan says. "The others...."

"I never told them," Radri says, and her voice begins to tremble as her words spill out, "I—I mean, you saw it, what a... what a poor attempt, the... the man wasn't even armored, that—that dagger was all he had... what kind of leader would—would—"

"Would have frozen?" Xan says, quietly. "You were home, where you had been safe for decades, as long as you can remember. You were not prepared, and a moment of fear is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I can't have any moments of fear."

"Oh, but you should," Xan says. "I recommend it. No one is invincible, and the few true fearless are bound to foolhardiness and doomed to an early death."

Slowly, Radri lifts her head, gazing back at him. Her eyes are still damp with tears, but no pity shows in his; his gaze only softens, bearing relief. She wipes the tears from her face with the side of her hand, until Xan silently offers a handkerchief. He is quiet for another beat, and then,

"That day," he begins, slowly, "will you tell me what happened?"

She had thought that she had long swallowed the words, but now they rise, pressing against her closed lips. There is no magic at play, here; only time, and memory, and his quiet patience.

"He missed," she says. "The dagger, it... it only cuts me above the brow... and lands in the wood beside the door. He wrenches at it... there is an unruly nail, you see, Dreppin always did swear he would fix it... and though I have my opening, all I can do is stare. I had driven my blade into the hearts of countless illusions just earlier, but—but I'm too afraid to stab him. Then, I hear the wood crack, and I panic: I knock him out with a blow to the head."

Radri laughs, weak, and empty; Xan remains silent beside her.

"You know, the funny part is, I stepped back out into the sunlight and it was like nothing had happened. Parda asked, but... I thought that was it, so... I didn't say a thing. But then—but then—you have to guess," Radri says, feeling almost lightheaded, like something in the air has sent her mind spinning. Judging by the grave look on his face, she doesn't expect Xan to humor her—but he does.

"There was a second attempt," he says. "Just when you had thought it was safe again."

"You're right," Radri says, faintly, feeling strangely empty now. "I stabbed him that time... there was blood, on my new armor... surely Karan had seen it, and yet... I still couldn't say a word."

She falls silent, clutching the handkerchief in her hand, her eyes dry now, and her cheeks sticky with tears.

"I'm sorry," Radri says.

She ducks her head, unable to see the way Xan blinks from compassion into puzzlement, blindsided by her apology.

"For what?"

She doesn't know; she can't put it into words, knowing only that shame fills her chest. Shame, for being here in front of him—for craving his attention so deeply and totally when she has done nothing with it but worry him. Danger did not used to follow her; things did not happen to her. She had always been quiet, inconsequential, like a shadow in the halls.

"F—for," Radri begins, and then her hitched breath overtakes all other words, and she can only shake her head silently as she attempts to hide herself again.

Xan sighs. She curls in tighter on herself, sure that whatever he had seen in her has lost its luster now. Perhaps, if she had not accepted his offer of shared reverie, she would have been able to bear the facade for even just one day longer.

But then, fabric shifts, and instead of standing and walking away, he leans in, holding her.

It is a tentative embrace, and to some degree, it is awkward: she has brought her knees up to her chest, hunching in upon herself, so Xan is left to drape himself over the mountain she has made. His head tilts against hers, but it is held rigid, and leaves no weight upon her; and there is the slightest tremor in his fingers, whose touch is similarly feather-light, although they curl into the folds of her blanket, still draped around her. This balance is held for one frozen moment, until a sob escapes her, and whatever restraint he had had breaks, pulling his warmth and weight to her as though a new source of gravity had manifested in her chest.

"Forgive me," Xan says, quiet and low, "My arms can provide little comfort, but I am afraid that my words would provide even less."

She wants to speak; memories crowd in her chest, memories of Candlekeep, so unchanging across the decades that they all merge into a blur. She is the obedient child, quiet as she is told to be; the daughter of a storyteller, able to pluck the morals from any tale; the reader staring down at a thousand pages, for whom the world starts and ends between the covers of a book. She is an observer, nothing more. She is not seen. She is not seen.

And yet here she sits, painfully present in the real world, in the grounding weight of Xan's embrace. A great part of her wishes dearly again to hide—but a budding fraction feels nothing but sweet relief.

When at last she can exist again, she lifts her head, and Xan releases her immediately. She raises her gaze to meet his, and Xan looks pensively back at her, until he reaches out to tuck her hair back behind her ear. He places a kiss upon her forehead, and though fleeting, weightless, and gentle, with that kiss the last of whatever insecure words she'd held on her tongue are gone.

"The next watch is mine," Xan says, unfazed, as though he had not just turned some layer of her reality over. "If you wish, you can join me until you are ready to return to reverie."

He holds out his hand to her, and she takes it, allowing that familiar spark of elation dance through her fingers and up into her heart again.

—✧✧✧—

Friends

—✧✧✧—

Then I Shall Stay [crossposted on ao3]

—✧✧✧—

Newly Vulnerable (the second one in the link)

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Art Exchange

—✧✧✧—

First Impression / Attention

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United in Misery

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Waiting [crossposted on ao3]

(extra art)

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Recognition [crossposted on ao3]

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Stealthy Care

—✧✧✧—

Fever

—✧✧✧—

[Next is two versions of the same idea—I couldn’t pick one to throw out]

Radri: I think I've perfected my system—see? (She begins unfolding pages out of her journal, which each expand to a size larger than the journal's cover itself.) Map. Local maps. Open quest list. Closed quest list. Inventory—

(A regularly-sized page flutters out from the complicated arrangement; Xan retrieves it for her, then pauses.)

Xan: What is this ominous page of untitled dates?

Radri, freezing: Oh, um, a record of every... quail I have seen. I mark down the day.

Xan, raising a brow: I did not know you were a quail enthusiast.

Radri, quickly taking the page back: Well, we still have a lot to learn about each other.

—

(A quail passes by in the underbrush.)

Xan, flatly: Ah, there is another one. Will you mark it down?

(Radri, who’s about to reach unwillingly for her journal, pauses, then huffs.)

Radri: Fine! It's a record of every day that I have seen you smile! I am sick of marring it.

Xan, stunned: What? Why would you feel the need to conceal that?

Radri, annoyed: Because you'll say that I'm silly for keeping it, that we will all turn to dust, and that the work I put into recording these things is pointless because it is futile to preserve anything—a struggle which one would think I am intimately familiar with given that I spent my entire childhood in a giant archive.

Xan, fond: Oh, Estel'amin, even in your anger, your beauty is breathtaking to behold. Come here.

(Radri looks at him, and grows even more annoyed, though she still lets him gather her into his arms. Her face is now pink.)

Radri: I am still not marking down today.

—✧✧✧—

(Radri’s head rests against Xan’s shoulder as they rest together; he brushes absent-mindedly through her hair with his fingers, watching the way the last of the day’s sunlight plays across the strands, as they did so many nights ago.)

Xan: Do you remember that first night by the fire, when I arranged your hair?

Radri, eyes closed in contentment: Yes… it's a memory I used to revisit often. It was the first time I saw you smile.

Xan: I... I did?

Radri: You had this faraway, peaceful look on your face... I was unable to return to reverie for hours afterwards. I just kept picturing your smile when I closed my eyes.

Xan: A restlessness that I can relate to all too well. But... you spoke in the past tense, earlier. Is the recollection no longer to your liking?

Radri, defenses low, drifting off: It was a beautiful smile, but once I loved you I couldn't bear it anymore.

(The brushing stops.)

Xan: What do you mean?

Radri, realizing what she confessed: I-I mean… Well, I… My glimpse of it was clearly stolen, and it was not meant for me—you were no doubt recalling a memory. (She sits up, looking away, embarrassed.) When I began to wish dearly that you would look at me like that, I didn't want to see it anymore.

Xan: Well, it is fortunate that you now have memories to replace it, then.

Radri: ...

Xan: …Estel'amin, I know for a fact that I have smiled more with you than I have in the past four decades.

Radri: ...

Xan: *sigh* My beautiful, beautiful Radri, what doubts yet linger in your mind? What reason would I have to be false with you?

Radri: None.

Xan: None.

Radri, unable to contain it anymore: But sometimes, surely, you're just smiling at the beauty of nature around us! How could I presume to have factored into any part of that joy? I merely happen to be present.

Xan, dryly: Yes. Surely, you just “happen to be present” in all of the happiest memories of my life. Radri, there is coincidence, and then there is causation. You can believe me when I say that you are the cause.

Radri: ...

(Xan tilts her face towards his, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek.)

Xan: If the countless words I have spouted in our months together have not been enough to convince you, what shall I do to show you? (As he leaves his kiss, he catches sight of the welling tears in her eyes.) Oh, Estel'amin...

(Radri turns her face quickly away again, covering it with a hand.)

Radri: No—I'm not sad, just touched!

Xan: Your earlier laments are wasted on yourself; you should lend them to me, who seems only capable of making his beloved cry. Though, it gives me the opportunity to kiss away your tears. Shall I?

Radri, lowering the shield of her fingers a fraction to glance back at him disapprovingly: That sounds unpleasant and salty for you.

Xan: And yet I would readily perform the gesture. Do you glimpse now the depths of my devotion?

(As he waits for her acknowledgement, her eyes widen in surprise, and she forgets to shield herself entirely.)

Radri: Oh... you're smiling.

(In his own realization of it, the smile is gone in an instant—but the memory remains.)

—✧✧✧—

A Gift [crossposted on ao3]

—✧✧✧—

Radri: I used to dream of finding someone to share all that I am with. I still cannot believe that I've found you.

Xan, touched and blushing a little, hiding it quickly: I dare not ask if I am all that you dreamed of. —And yet, there are the words now, hanging irrevocably between us. Let me guess: you envisioned gallant knights, white horses?

Radri, laughing: Do you think I immersed myself in love stories? That would be Imoen, not me.

Radri: I… It may be silly to say, but… I couldn't bear them. They were other people's stories; there was no place there for me.

(Xan looks at her softly, understanding; embarrassed, she doesn't meet his eye.)

Radri: B-besides! Even when I dared dream, I could never have imagined you.

Xan, unsure if he should be flattered or insulted: …

Radri: I mean—! You're… so… you.

Xan, unimpressed: I am… so… "me". Surely, in another life, you could have been a wordsmith.

Radri: Agh, just give me a second!

Radri: You were… so… intimidating, to me. Speaking to you felt like walking on a tightrope. ...As a child, I imagined that I would feel instantly at ease. That no matter where I was, with this someone, I would feel a sense of belonging… like I could finally come to rest.

Xan: …

Radri: And that's you.

Xan, blindsided: Radri—you very clearly defined how that is not me.

Radri: Not in the beginning, but it is now. (She waves a hand to the side idly.) A lot had to happen, of course, which I could not have imagined as a child—but, anyway. What about you? (She leans into him, wearing a lighthearted smile.) Am I all you dreamed of?

Xan: If you must know, I dreamed of little; I felt early on that I would not be one to continue on the family line, and chose not to dwell on romance.

Xan: But…

Xan: You have been all that I dared not dream of, Estel'amin. In knowing you, I realize that I have starved myself, for a long, long time…

(He kisses her hair, and she accepts it shyly, too touched to say anything. Xan gives her silent, flushed face an amused look.)

Xan: No response? Ah, I must still intimidate you, I see. (Smoothly, he takes her hand.) Perhaps more exposure will help.

—✧✧✧—

Xan: Sigh…

(Xan glances over at Radri, who hasn't looked up from her journal.)

Xan: Sigh…

(Xan glances over at Radri, who still doesn't look up. Xan sighs for real.)

Xan: It used to be that you would look up at my every sign of distress. (Radri finally looks up at him, but Xan looks away) Oh, how I wish big, strong Radri would come here and comfort me…

Radri, laughing a little: Alright, I'm here. What is it that troubles you? A general malaise?

Xan, frowning a little: Is malaise not already general?

Radri: …

Radri, pulling away and cupping her hand around her ear: My apologies, my lord, but I'm getting another call, from Lady Adventure—

Xan: Wait—

Radri: And she doesn't mind if I don't look up my every word in a dictionary—

Xan: Radri! (He sighs and turns away, giving up) I should have known better than to ask for your attention.

Radri, with a little smile: Oh, but I just remembered that I prefer your company to hers, so I redirected her call.

Xan, feeling sorry for himself: If only that were true.

Radri, teasing: Is what I'm hearing a general malaise?

Xan, still too sorry for himself to meet her eye: It is something, alright.

Radri: Well, perhaps I can work my magic.

—✧✧✧—

Rational Grief Response

—✧✧✧—

Storyteller / Return to Candlekeep

—✧✧✧—

[The first rest after being freed from Candlekeep’s jail; they’re still underground.]

(Radri has hidden herself away in shadow; it’s only through their bond that Xan is able to find where she’s retreated away from the rest of the group. He can’t see her, but he knows she’s nearby.)

Xan: Estel'amin... Will you speak to me?

(For a moment, he fears that he’s mistaken, that she’s not here and that he is only speaking to dust and cobwebs—but at length, she responds.)

Radri: We have nothing to talk about.

(Her voice… he’s facing the wrong alcove. He turns, searching for her direction.)

Xan: You are displeased with me, and for good reason. What I said was uncouth and unwarranted, and it will never happen agai—

(She interrupts his apology, barely listening, her tone clipped and dismissive.)

Radri: You should return to the others. I want to be alone.

(This alcove. He’s sure of it… he thinks. Something is off about her tone of voice, and he realizes that it suggests she’s not angry at him. If not him, then….)

Xan: …I do not think you should be alone in a time like this.

(A bitter laugh—and a fortunate scrap of light hits the familiar crimson of her cloak. There she is, in the darkness: her back is turned to him, and her hair spills dark across her shoulders, which are hunched in on herself as she hugs her knees to her chest, her form made small and cut off from view in the shadow of a cracked pillar. He would like nothing more than to rush over and embrace her—but he waits.)

Radri: Why? Are you afraid that I will spontaneously burst murder and chaos into existence around me if I am left unsupervised?

Xan: Radri—

Radri: The prophecies are written, after all, and I have already been dragging trouble around with me since I stepped out of Candlekeep. All of these spells, these nightmares, and that damned book—I knew it, I knew something was wrong with me! (In the midst of her anger, something in her voice breaks, leaning into sorrow.) You saw it too—dread filled your eyes when you looked at me. And yet when I pleaded with you, you stayed. We sealed it all with a bond that must not break... oh, how deeply you must regret it now. I will never be anything more than an unwanted burden, shuffled between keepers—I am sick of this life!

(He feels for a moment like he’s looking into a mirror—not this lament, but another, though are they not in a way all the same story retold—and the sorry hatred and bitterness in her voice seep readily into his thoughts like an old, unwanted friend. For that moment, he feels it; in the next, he lets it go.)

Xan: Rage at me for my thoughtless words as you will, but do not malign our love. It is true that I once sought to leave you, but it was nothing but the act of a coward, so afraid of the thought of losing you that he believed he would rather live with a hole in his chest than stay and love you. Indeed I knew nothing, for now that I have known your love, nothing across all the Planes could ever convince me of abandoning you again. I have never regretted our bond, nor dreamed of breaking it.

Xan: And what of Gorion? Was he not a father to you—did he not love you as his child? You do yourself and his memory a grave disservice to speak of yourself this way!

(Radri, who had remained unmoving, flinches at his words then with a choked, muffled gasp of breath; he pales, pulling back, worried now that he has overstepped his bounds. And yet, still, he cannot bring himself to leave her entirely to her suffering.)

Xan: If you truly wish it, I will leave. But I fear I cannot believe your request if you do not face me and say it. Please, Estel'amin... will you look at me?

(His heartbeat, loud in his ears, keeps him from any internal estimate of the passage of time. A thought, persistent at the back of his mind, tells him to leave now before he ruins what he has with her any further—and yet he stays.)

(Her cloak slithers across ruined tile, and her form retreats fully behind the blocking pillar… and then she emerges, standing, facing him as he’d asked. Her expression is solemn, and her dark eyes are dull, though something in her gaze still glimmers.)

Radri: I wish I were nothing.

(It is not the truth, and he is relieved for that. He takes a cautious step towards her—and as though he had broken some sort of silent stand-off, Radri’s lip begins to quiver, and then she’s crying, her tears spilling freely down her face. She makes no move to wipe them away; and neither does he, really, because when he rushes to her, he holds her, pulling her to his chest and kissing her atop her head, uncaring of whatever cobwebs certainly cover them both.)

Xan: If you were nothing, how could I hold you? How could I kiss you?

(He kisses her again; she has made no move to hold him in return, but this is a fatigue he understands, and he holds her tightly enough for the both of them.)

Xan: It is painful, I know, but you are here, and my heart is with you—and so is that of your sister, and of your father's old friends, who have through your just leadership become your own. (After just the barest pause, he adds reluctantly,) And I suppose even Viconia must feel some tiny, miniscule shred of supportive, positive emotion somewhere in her heart for you, which is a miracle in itself.

(She is silent, but then,)

Radri: …You referred to her as my sister… Imoen will be overjoyed to hear this.

(It’s too early for her to jest in earnest, but he finds himself holding onto the unlikely hope anyway.)

Xan: Ah, of course, out of everything I have said, this is the one word that sticks. Does this bring a smug smile to your face? I will imagine that it does.

(Radri pulls away from his embrace, which he relaxes, but does not release entirely—nor does she make the full effort to leave. Instead, she gazes quietly at him, seemingly merely in want of the sight of his face. He appreciates the sight of hers in return, but while some life has returned to her endlessly deep eyes, sorrow still lies within. He runs a gentle thumb across her cheek, still stained with tears; he has never truly regretted his nature, but he comes close now.)

Xan, quiet: What should I do, Estel'amin? I am no use in lifting spirits without a spell; that craft has always eluded me. Shall we return to the others, who will surely do what I cannot?

(Rather than accept readily, she glances down and away.)

Radri: I'm... not ready to face them yet. Can you stay here with me... just one moment longer?

Xan: Then I will.

—✧✧✧—

Desire [crossposted on ao3]

—✧✧✧—

(In the early morning, in Baldur’s Gate. Radri rouses from her reverie, only to see Xan already packed for his journey, and making his final preparations before he is off.)

Radri: Were you going to leave without waking me?

(Xan turns to face her; his expression holds some disappointment, but also a resignation, and to a subtler degree, a quiet gratefulness.)

Xan: That was my intent, yes. Though I should have known that it would not be so easy to slip away from you undetected.

(He leaves his backpack on its chair, and sweeps back over to the bed, leaning down to lay a gentle kiss upon her forehead. Radri gazes up at him, still blinking away the last sensations of her reverie.)

Radri: But why?

Xan: Why? If you could see yourself now, you would understand why. It was hard enough to muster the will to pull away from your resting form, let alone resist the pull of your vulnerable, open gaze.

(She snags his sleeve as he begins to pull away.)

Radri: I will walk you to the city gates.

Xan: You will not. If I let you accompany me to the gates, the moment I step through them you will declare, “I will walk you to the next town,” and so it will continue until your next words are “I will walk you to Evereska.” No, I must hold you here, and hold firm.

(She's a little put out—he's got her dead to rights. Radri sits up, glancing about the room.)

Radri: You have everything? Spellbook, components, potions—?

Xan, dryly: Yes, you have provided me with enough health potions to outfit a full adventuring party, and I thank you for your confidence in me.

Radri: …Perhaps I should accompany you to the next town anyway.

(She moves to swing her feet over the edge of the bed, ready to get dressed—but Xan stops her with a firm, unamused gaze.)

Xan: Radri, what am I, a fresh-faced youth being sent on his first adventure? (He sighs, and sits at the edge of the bed, taking her hands in his.) I would like nothing more than to take you back to Evereska with me, but its gates are closed to you. Would you have me be so cruel as to force you to wait outside for me as though you were a stranger?

Radri: You could.

Xan: No. You are my hope, my world, and my soulmate. I could not. Besides, it is you who insisted so adamantly that I keep our relationship a secret—not that I planned on telling my superiors anything in the first place, since it is a personal matter. If we were seen together, the nature of our relationship would be known instantly.

Radri: How so?

Xan: Estel'amin, have you forgotten already how you have transformed me? I would need to study for a hundred years to conceal the love I have for you—and I have no desire to, for I would wish for the whole world to know.

Radri, red: Surely not the whole world.

Xan: Indeed, the whole world. Were this land not ripe with our enemies, I would shout it from the rooftops, and spell it out in the sky... but you have already begun to shrink away from me in terror, I see. Do not worry; I will be discretion itself.

Xan: So, are you satisfied with our farewells? May I take my leave now?

(Radri looks at him, and at the backpack on the chair, and at the ceiling and walls of the room that surround them—a room that, without him, will surely feel large, cold, and empty. She will not be alone after he is gone; the others are still here in the city, ready for adventure, wherever it may take them. Still, she feels as though she is about to return to the loneliness she had lived in in Candlekeep: surrounded by many, yet seen by none.)

(Xan, after waiting and watching throughout her silence, begins at last to pull away—but she holds on, one last time.)

Radri: Are you not going to kiss me?

(A deeply tortured look flashes through his dark eyes, which she recognizes now to be of the kind that he used to send her in their early months together. It spells a yearning for that which he believes he should not have—and before she can wonder what it is that he has forbidden himself this time, he leans in, kissing her. He lingers, tender, savoring the moment… as does she. As they part, at last, he gives a soft, gentle sigh.)

Xan: Now I will think of little else but the taste of your lips. You have ruined me, Estel'amin, and yet I carry your soul with me happily, with all the contentment of a man oblivious to or uncaring of death...

Xan: I promise, I will return to you as soon as I am able.

—✧✧✧—

Sad Influence

— — —✧✧✧— — —

baldur’s gate ii: soa

— — —✧✧✧— — —

Reunion

—✧✧✧—

Birthday Wish [partially crossposted on ao3]

—✧✧✧—

Promise [crossposted on ao3]

—✧✧✧—

Innate Evil

—✧✧✧—

Xan: Do you think your father would have approved of me?

Radri: Hm? My human father, or my divine father? Because from what I've read, Bhaal was a cruel and difficult god to impress, and you haven't the temperament for his methods of worship.

Xan: (shivers) No, and I am glad I do not. I meant Gorion, of course.

Radri: ...

Xan: ...You are giving it more consideration than I thought. Never mind, Radri—it was a foolish question, and perhaps I no longer wish to hear the answer.

Radri: I think he would have liked you. We shared a similar sense of humor; he would have enjoyed your jokes.

Xan: Yes, these famous jokes that I myself am not aware of. I see, so I would become a court jester to not just the princess, but the king, as well.

Radri: I think if you were a court jester, it would be to the king first, and to the princess second. —And did you just liken me to a princess?

Xan, red: A slip of the tongue, I am sure. Though given the abysmal attitudes of nobility in the human lands, you deserve far better than to be compared to—well, let us just move on so that I do not inflate your ego any further.

(Xan turns his gaze back to his spellbook, ready to return to their earlier comfortable silence—but Radri takes his hand in hers with a soft smile.)

Radri: You make me happy, Tahlimil. No matter what he might have thought of you... he would be glad for that.

(The corners of his lips rise slightly, in what has almost become a regular occurrence… then the smile falls.)

Xan: I... mentioned before, my dreams, where my parents disapprove of our relationship....

Xan: I think they would have their misgivings. Certainly about the way that I have thrown everything aside for you, like a lovesick fool... a fool that perhaps I am. I have left my career... left Evereska... and indeed, one could say I will begin to shirk my duty next, though I have not been struck dead yet.

Xan: But I think if they had the chance to know you, they... they...

Xan: *Sigh* Never mind. This is a pointless line of thought. I cannot imagine what they would think, and I will not see them again for an eternity, and that is only if I am lucky. I regret having brought it up.

(Radri gazes quietly at him, then tilts her head against his shoulder, the contact gentle and light. He does not tense, so she squeezes his hand lightly, pressing their palms together: for the briefest moment, some of what burdens him is shared with her.)

(He sighs again—not sharp this time, but soft—and he tilts his head against hers.)

—✧✧✧—

[A while after this exchange:

Xan: I wanted to enchant a ring for you, but this one overshadows everything I will ever be able to give you. How ironic that it comes from the Shadowmaster of Athkatla.

Radri: And how unfortunate that none of us can even wear it, our equipment being what it is. I would rather have your ring, instead.

Xan: A mere bauble will not protect your life, and I have no time to enchant it properly. Perhaps in the future... but no, I have distracted myself from what I wanted to say.]

Radri: I've been thinking about your ring.

Xan: My ring...? Ah, the one that has yet to be made.

Radri: But it already has, hasn’t it? You’ve carried a ring with you ever since you returned from Evereska.

Xan: You noticed? I can slip nothing past you, I see. But it is not complete, Estel'amin—as I alluded to before, it is unenchanted, and as such, it is yet nothing.

Radri: It is not nothing. Its current form is to its advantage: enchanted, it would have to compete with the other enchanted equipment I carry, but unenchanted, I can wear it always.

Radri: Even now, it would bring me courage—or, would you rather that it raise my sense of self-preservation, although as I keep trying to convince you, it is already appropriately high?

Radri: I... I suppose we speak so much of the future now, and of dreams of a quiet life, and when we’re so far from all of it, I’d feel one step closer to…. Oh, never mind. I feel like I’ve stolen a secret from you; I'm sorry, I won't mention it again.

(She looks away, out across the cityscape; in the sunset, even the slums district appears awash in glittering gold. Beside her, Xan remains quiet for a moment, then retrieves something from the pocket of his robes.)

Xan: This ring has been passed down in my House. Through trial and tribulation, and the endless march of time, its magics are gone, having long served their purpose; it holds only its history now. I carried it with me from Evereska thinking, perhaps, that I would give it new life—that when it was ready, I would present it to you in ceremony...

Xan: But perhaps I have been thinking too long.

Xan: Here. My ring, unfinished and unpresentable as it is. If it pleases you, even in such a state as this, it is yours—but I promise you, I will strive to make it worthy of you someday.

Radri, meeting his eye warmly as she accepts it: I love it, Tahlimil. It is already worthy.

Xan, embarrassed and relieved: Why does my mind insist on tormenting me with thoughts of your judgment, when my heart already knows what you will say? Though now that it is on your finger, perhaps it is time to let go of my frivolous dreams of holding a formal ceremony. We may as well just find a quiet spot in which to say our vows.

Radri: No, we must still have the ceremony. Because you wish for it, it must be so, and it will be grand and beautiful.

—

Radri: I lost it.

Xan: Lost what?

Radri: I lost it! Linvail's ring! I had already been thinking of getting rid of it since it only takes up space in my backpack, but—to not even be able to recoup the barest fraction of its value by bringing it to a shop?! Oh, I can't believe I—Xan?

(Radri looks up in time to see Xan shaking in silent laughter, which then bursts out in a full laugh.)

Xan: Of course! Of course, you would care so little about a ring powerful enough to belong to royalty that you let it be misplaced! What an absurd life it is we lead!

Xan: Meanwhile, mere trinkets are given the treatment of kings—even the blooms I had set upon your hair a year ago were kept carefully preserved in your journal, as though they were imbued with a lifetime's worth of magic and not merely painfully ordinary. Sentiment will not save your life, but you hold it dearer than the things that could.

Radri, half insulted: I think I strike an appropriate balance between sentiment and practicality.

Xan: Oh, Estel'amin, smooth the furrow in your brow; I do not laugh at you, but at myself. I see that even if I spent centuries in study, you would not love the ring I enchanted for you for its boons, but for my efforts. What pointless, pointless jealousies I bear…

(His rare mirth fades as he sobers once more.)

Xan: But I am sorry that the ring was lost—it was truly in a class of its own, and now you will earn nothing for it.

Radri, still in shock and awe of what she’s just witnessed: No, I... think in the end, it paid for itself.

—✧✧✧—

Dragon Slayer [crossposted on ao3]

—✧✧✧—

Just Friends (a direct redraw)

—✧✧✧— 

A Monster

—✧✧✧— 

The Graveyard Encounter (an outline of changes)

[At the inn, after Xan survives and Bodhi lies dead:]

Xan, at the tail end of asking Radri a question: ...What do you think?

(He turns to her, but Radri has her head down, and clearly hasn't been listening to him.)

Xan: Radri?

Radri, quiet: You nearly died.

Xan: I know. Admittedly, I am still shaken by the encounter. If it were not for you and my moonblade, I would have been transformed into something abhorrent... once again, you have my gratitude, Estel'amin.

(Xan seems content to leave it at that, but Radri isn't. She lifts her gaze to his, revealing the tears in her eyes.)

Radri: But it was so close.

Radri: If I hadn't formed a connection to your moonblade—If I hadn't asked the right question that day—

Radri: W-would you even have told me on your own? That it was possible? Or would you have kept silent, and died today?

Xan, worried by how shaken she looks: Radri... none of us are ever far from death. Though it may not look it, every day is like this one. Luck, coincidence, and sheer miracles save us—

Radri, firm, distraught: Our actions save us.

Radri: And today I could do nothing but watch—Don't you understand?

Radri: I-it's not like I couldn't get there fast enough.

Radri: I was right there—but it's like I was frozen again, and—

Radri: And I would've had to watch you die—

(Radri's voice breaks, her tears falling—and Xan, truly concerned now, goes to hold her)

Xan: You did act, Estel'amin. I could not have been saved without your will.

Radri: ....

Radri, unable to word the turmoil she's feeling, just repeating: It was too close.

Xan: I know.

(Radri just lets herself be held for a moment, instinctively searching for him through their bond again, but it's too faint for her to feel anything close to what she did in that moment in the graveyard, when the urgency of the moment had lended her a single-minded determination. She pulls away to look at him—the dusty shoulders of his robes, his combat-mussed hair, the fading scar on his cheek... his worried eyes. She'd caused that, by making a bigger deal of this than he had.)

Radri: Tahlimil?

Xan: Yes?

(She'd wanted to ask that he not leave her sight for the time being, but holds the words back.)

Radri: You... you were asking me something earlier, weren't you? I interrupted you.

(Xan can tell that's not what she wanted to say, but lets her change the subject—and knowing how affected she still is, he changes his question, too.)

Xan: I asked... if you wished to join me in the bath.

(The tub the Copper Coronet provides is barely big enough for one person to soak in, let alone two; Radri tries to communicate this, but in her current state, it comes out as:)

Radri, caught off guard, puzzled: I... but... the inn, it doesn't... what, take turns?

Xan, warm, amused at her sentence fragments: No, no. Would you believe that I discovered a bath house nearby? Far too late to enjoy after our escapades in the sewers, but perhaps it was waiting for when it would be most needed. There is a private room we can share. What do you think?

Radri: Oh. I... I think that sounds nice.

(Xan's small smile becomes relieved as he sees the tension in her shoulders already relax a fraction.)

Xan: Then follow me.

— — —✧✧✧— — —

baldur’s gate ii: tob

— — —✧✧✧— — —

World’s Saddest (Hypothetical) Chosen

—✧✧✧—  

Innate Evil, Self Accusation Edition

—✧✧✧—

[The TOB scene where Xan cooks her an omelette.]

(While Radri begins to eat, Xan just leans his chin on his hand, gazing contentedly at her.)

Xan: When this is over... when we have made our home... I would cook breakfast for you each morning.

Radri: I see you don't wish to suffer through my meager skills in the kitchen.

Xan: I could never find any aspect of my lady wanting, and your skills will grow with time. No, I would cook for you to love you.

(It’s been so long, and he’s said that he loves her so many times, that Radri imagines she should have developed at least some resistance to it by now—but she hasn’t. She blushes, touched.)

Radri: Are you not going to eat, too?

(Xan gazes dreamily at her blushing features, fully content.)

Xan: Oh, I have already been fed, and most heartily. If I had known even earlier the extent of what shy expressions you reveal in private...

(Radri blushes harder.)

Radri: Each day it becomes harder to believe that you are the same man who spent ten minutes gathering the words to ask if he could kiss me.

Xan: Ah, but I am not the same man. I am remade each time I wake and meet your eyes; each day I walk at your side; each night I rest my beating heart beside yours. I have been transformed a thousand times over, and wish to be again.

Radri, gathering him a forkful: I think you should be transformed by this omelette.

(Xan takes the bite from her fork, and his expression falls, disappointed.)

Xan: Oh... I do not think I added enough salt, after all.

—✧✧✧—

silly alternate universes

radri was raised “evil”

radri was raised in evereska

[inlocusmads]

Hey there! I got this ask game, and I'm passing it on! I literally picked the first 10 people that came up when I scrolled through my list! Play along if you wish! ❤️

Tag game: I will name you some categories or a word, and you will tag a Tumblr friend or a mutual who matches with it or gives you these vibes. Don't worry, just a game. If you get tagged by someone else, you are lucky. Continue this game with the words of your choice :)

Dancing

Dagger

Seaside

New York

Bakery

Vinyl Records

Screaming

Elsa, thank you so much for this Ask! And I just wanna take a moment to appreciate the fact that this MADE ME THINK! It's awesome, I love it!

Dancing makes me think of @lovealexhunt's beautifully commissioned artwork - Mal and Daenarya after the ball and IT IS JUST TOO DAMN GORGEOUS OKAY? (I have like seventy posts saved in my drafts as reblogs and I should totally do that sometime soon lol). Honestly @hydn-jpg's art slaps, like hard bass, let's freaking go! Dani, always knocking it out of the park <3

Dagger - obviously @cassie-thorne. Ik ik too specific but I vaguely recall us just talking about daggers and weapons and cool stuff and recently there was this Ask from the playchoicesconfession account that talked about equipping the Crimes MC with something better than a taser. (MAX, CAMERON WITH KNIFE ARTWORK WHEN) and it also reminds me of this piece by @monschoices with Trystan and Sasha dressed up as the characters in Scream (1996). And Max just gives me full chaos vibes - we're all here for the chaos!

Seaside gives me just full @peonierose vibes. I'm just so behind on catching up with Peonie's work, but the last I hear, Luna and Bryce are living their sandy, beachy dreams up! There was this cute little fic where while they're picking out cakes, Bryce and Luna discover they're pregnant and it's just the wholesomest, feel-goodest fic on this earth. Plus, Peonie as a person just makes me associate with beaches, just the warmth of a nice summer's day.

New York is just @jerzwriter XD! Legit! It's synonymous almost! Ik you're from New Jersey, but you get the trademark New York culture, which is just so evident in your Crimes fics. I love them! I love how Carolina's got this wit and charm that's this cleverly calculated thing that helps her navigate tough situations but she is absolutely unafraid to hurl someone in front of a subway train in the slightest and yes, Trystan should be scared. I'd love to visit NYC someday!

Bakery gives me @peonyblossom solely because of the queer coffee shop vibes. I'm pretty sure they have a coffee shop AU and I'm just that terrible to not have gotten to it sooner XD. But honestly, yes, if we're going by vibes and vibes alone, just the atmosphere of a cornerstore bakery. It's very tough to pinpoint to one thing lol!

Vinyl records is just screaming @mydemonsdrivealimo (I don't know if I should be envious of Jensen that he gets to wear cool frickin outfits and just cook up a storm on the performing stage or if I should just sit back and wish why he weren't an actual musician I can binge-listen to on Spotify XD) but seriously, just impeccable of the impeccable-est music tastes ever.

Screaming reminds me of this Aerin x MC artwork by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd and IT'S NOTHING SHORT OF A MASTERPIECE (once again, I'm so behind on reblogging the coolest art and fics that I come across). I haven't seen the Witcher, but just Aerin "Sadboi" Valleros screaming out of his lungs is just a mood (mood I say, when it's heart-wrenching lmao). But damn, they knock it out of the whole freaking universe with their impeccable art! I'm just gonna sit here in awe and doom-scroll through their stuff right now.

Thank you so much Elsa! This was so fun to do <33