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jerzwriter · 8 months

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A Different Fate - Final Chapter

OMG, it took me entirely too long to complete this, but I'm so happy now that it's done! I am so, so grateful to the anonymous (to you, not to me 😉) donor to the Write for Gaza project, who requested I finish this by the end of January. Well - I did it! And thank you so, so much - I can't tell you how much it means!

A Different Fate - Series Masterlist

Book: Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (past)

Featuring: Tobias Carrick, Sienna Trinh

Rating: Teen

Words: 3,700

Category: Short-Series/AU/Lost Love

Summary: Ethan's first attempt to talk to Casey didn't work out, but now, with Tobias & Sienna's help, will it finally work out? Or will they have to resign and accept their fate?

A/N: When I started this, it was supposed to be a one-off, and now, I'm finally done after 5 parts! It's funny how these things take on a life of their own. I know a few of you have been very anxious for this to post, and I thank you for your extraordinary patience. I hope you find it's worth it in the end! @choicesjanuary2024 Day 23 - Hope Ethan x Kaycee Masterlist | My Full Masterlist

The bus jolted forward the moment the light turned green, jostling its passengers around like dolls—every passenger except for Sienna Trinh. Growing increasingly impatient with her “charge,” she sat firmly in place, arms crossed defiantly before her chest.

“This is a stupid idea!” She said, slapping a startled Ethan’s arm across the bus aisle.

“Oww!”

“Don’t oww, me!” She fired back. “You blew my advice off yesterday, and look how well that went. Maybe you should listen to me now.”

“I know,” Ethan droned. “But this is different.”

“Si, I have to agree with Ethan on this one,” Tobias said, his face twisting as he realized his words. “Shit! It hurt more than I expected to say that.”

“Thanks, pal.”

“Don’t mention it,” Tobias smirked. “Si, he can’t do this right now. He’d have to ambush her at work, and you see how well that went. We have a plan in place; it will be fine.”

“Normally, I’d agree with you, but I’m done tempting fate with these two. Something always goes wrong.”

“Look, the bonehead has put it off eight years. It can wait another eight hours to ensure it’s done right.”

“You know,” Ethan interrupted, “it might be helpful if the two of you wouldn’t talk about me like I wasn’t here.”

Sienna turned to him, brow raised. “It would be great if you didn’t need the two of us here to make sure you don’t blow it!”

“She makes a point,” Tobias nodded, pleased with Ethan’s exasperation.

“Can we stick to the point?”

“The point is, you’ll speak to Kaycee tonight.”

“Yeah, after your date,” Ethan chuckled ruefully. “

“It’s not a date!” Tobias spat. “You know damn well I’m just going to the party with her to get that asshole Douglas off her back.”

Ethan shot a half-doubtful look.

“Really?” Tobias said incredulously. “I’ve been rooting for you two since she left Boston, and this is how you treat me? Trust me, Ramsey, all Kaycee wants is you, and the last thing I’d ever want is to have you as a metamour.”

Sienna’s nose scrunched. “A meta-what?”

Tobias waved her off with a chuckle. “Trust me, Si, you’re better off not knowing. Now, stop worrying. I’ll take Kaycee to the party, give the creepy doctor a few death stares, and after a drink or two, I’ll mention you’re in town, play wingman, then you swoop in for the grand finale. We’ve got it under control.”

“Yeah,” Sienna rolled her eyes. “With you two at the wheel, what could possibly go wrong?”

~~~~~

“I’m coming!” Kaycee clumsily rushed across her apartment to answer the door, slipping into her silver heels along the way. She opened the door breathless but stunning nevertheless. “Hey,” she smiled.

A grin spread across Tobias’s face; he had forgotten how well Dr. MacClennan cleaned up. With her long blonde curls cascading over her shoulder, barely skimming the bodice of her strapless ice-blue gown, she looked more like someone who spent her day posing for Vogue than saving lives in scrubs.

“What do you think?” she grinned.

“What do I think? If this is how you look for a fake date, what the hell do you do on real ones? How many heart attacks have you been responsible for, MacClennan?”

“Shit!” She said with a stomp of her foot. “I screwed up! I shouldn’t have brought you tonight!”

“Oh, why?”

“I should have invited Dr. Douglas himself! If I knew cardiac arrest would be the result, well, that would be one way to be rid of him.”

Tobias burst out laughing. “I forgot just how wicked you could be.”

Slipping an earring in, she winked. “I’d feel guilty about it ten minutes later. Not guilty enough to start CPR, but guilty all the same."

"Well, I'm happy to provide a less lethal way of getting rid of Dr. Jackass.”

She grabbed her clutch off the side table and looked at Tobias, casually leaning against the door. She swore he hadn’t aged a day, still wearing that signature confident swagger as well as he wore his dark, tailor-made suit. She crossed her arms and shook her head disapprovingly.

“What?” He asked, checking his attire to see if something was wrong. “Do I not clean up as well as you?”

“Too well. If word gets out that I’m dating you, no one will ask me out again. They’d be afraid of the competition.”

He chuckled softly, visions of Ethan in his mind. “Well, let’s hope it won’t come to that.”

Stepping to Kaycee’s side, he offered his arm. “Shall we?”

“Let’s go!”

~~~~~

The party was exactly what one would expect to cap off the career of a renowned doctor from one of the top hospitals in the world. The rooftop ballroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of the City’s famed skyline; fairy lights scattered throughout the room illuminated it with an ethereal glow. Warm notes from the piano wafted through the air, competing with the gentle hum of convivial chatter as tuxedoed waiters distributed flutes of Dom Perignon. Tobias and Kaycee were on a mission and played the part of an enamored new couple so well that they earned envious stares, not only from Dr. Douglas but from several others as well. But as much fun as that was, Tobias couldn’t get his mind off his primary goal of the night: getting Ethan and Kaycee together. He looked at his watch. She only wanted to stay two hours, and they were about to hit that mark.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Wanna take a spin around the dancefloor before we blow this joint? Make this look legit?”

Wordlessly placing her empty champagne flute on a passing waiter's tray, she took Tobias’s hand and led him to the dancefloor. Ironically, finding the most privacy they’d had all night.

“Dancing was a good idea,” she said. “Everyone knows I wouldn’t leave a party without dancing... and it’s not like you’re a stick in the mud that would refuse me.”

“Kacyee, it would be difficult for anyone to refuse you.”

“Yeah,” she smiled sadly, “You’d be surprised.”

“I don’t know about that. For Christ's sake, you used to get Ramsey to dance back in the day. I thought only an act of God could accomplish that!”

Kaycee’s body tensed, and her feet seemed to forget what they were supposed to do. As she stood still on the dance floor, Tobias looked her in the eye.

“I’m sorry, did I overstep?”

Kaycee shook her head and continued to dance. “It’s been so nice seeing you, but it takes me back, and sometimes, that can be hard, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. It takes me back, too, but is that such a bad thing? We had some good times.”

“Ha! It all depends,” she chuckled. “Do you have a time machine? Because I’d be happy to go back, but only if I could write a different fate.”

“I can’t do that,” he sighed. “Not the time machine part, but... maybe I can help with the different fate.”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Follow me.”

Kaycee remained silent as they ran down the plushly carpeted hall. But, when they found an empty banquet room, she wanted answers.

“OK, we’re alone now. What’s going on?”

“I want to talk to you about Ethan.”

Kaycee shook her head, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

“We did that. We had that conversation at dinner the other night. We don’t need to do it again.”

“Did we have that conversation? Because as far as I remember, I didn’t tell you that he was here.”

“He’s what? He’s here... like in New York?”

“I’ll do one better,” he smiled. “He’s sitting at the bar in the lobby.”

Her eyes narrowed, and Tobias wasn’t sure if he saw shock or anger flickering in them.

“You told me he was in Boston. You said he refused to come with you!”

“He was. Or at least I thought he was. But when I got to my hotel that night, he was there.”

She crossed her arms smugly. “So he came to attend the conference. Right?”

“Nope. He didn’t come for the conference. He came here for you.”

“For me?” Her voice cracked. “He came here for me. Yet he’s been in town for two days and hasn’t reached out to me once.”

“Well... about that. He did. He stopped by Langone yesterday and sort of heard you tell Dr. Douglass that you had a thing... for me.”

Kaycee felt her stomach drop. “No!”

“Yes.”

“No, no, no, no! He doesn’t really think I want you, does he?”

“Hey, don’t act so disgusted!” Tobias said defensively. “Believe it or not, most people would kill to get with this... but Ethan knows you’re not one of them. I can’t give you a time machine, but you can give yourself a second chance.”

She remained silent, her heart beating faster as she stared out the window into the night.

“Tobias, it’s taken me eight years to say his name without crying. To recall our time together and feel whistful, not just sad. I’m content with my life here, and if I open that door and it slams shut once again... I don’t know that I could take it.”

“Kaycee, you’re right. Eight years have passed, and a lot has changed. Like you – you’re not a young, wide-eyed resident anymore. You have a brilliant career that can only be attributed to one thing – and that’s you. No one could dare say you made it because you were involved with him. You love each other. Why keep denying it.”

“He loves me?” She asked. “He used those exact words.”

“Well, he didn’t actually say the words, but... why would he say them to me? Why don’t you give him a chance... to say them to you?”

“But Tobias,” she said with a quiver in her voice. “What if... what if it doesn’t work?”

“But Kaycee... what if it does?”

~~~~~

Boston and Philadelphia had skyscrapers for sure, but neither city could hold a candle to New York, and right now, Kaycee couldn't be more grateful to the town she now called home. Sixty-eight floors, she thought, taking a tentative step into the elevator. Sixty-eight floors stood between her and the lobby, and she hoped they’d stop at each one.

Standing in the back corner, she relied on the walls to keep her upright as passengers piled in. She needed time. Time to think, to decide what she’d say, to breathe.... sixty-eight floors should have given her the time she needed to center and gain a semblance of composure. But it went by in an instant, and when the elevator doors began sliding over, all she could do was watch in horror.

Her head was spinning, and her mind was lost in a cloud of confusion. Ethan was waiting in the lobby... for her? It couldn’t be real. Tourists and locals alike chatted happily about their evening plans as they stepped out, a direct contrast to Kacyee, who stood frozen in fear. Only the elevator operator’s gruff voice brought her back to reality.

“Ma’am, are you getting out?”

She turned to him, then back to the door, and considered returning to the grand ballroom. But something inside her stirred. Tobias was right; she was no longer playing the part of the ingenue, filled with hope and naivete that were somehow both her greatest strength and weakness. No, she was a big girl now, and whatever happened when she walked through that door... she’d be able to handle it.

“Ma’am," the man repeated with increased irritation. “Shall I close the doors?"

“Uhm. No," she said, standing upright and dusting off the front of her gown. “No. I’m getting off here.”

The world seemed to move in slow motion as she stepped into the lobby. If this were a movie, Ethan would be waiting across a crowded room, their eyes would meet in an instant, and the credits would roll as soon as they shared a perfect kiss, one that left no doubt that they were destined for happily ever after. But real life seldom ran so smoothly, as Kaycee was about to confirm. She looked all around, to the left and the right, but no sign of him. She walked the perimeter of the room, even just outside, and still... nothing. Tobias said Ethan would be at the bar, so she returned and hopped on a stool to wait and wait. She was patient at first, but five minutes passed, then ten. Her fingers began to rap against the rich mahogany countertop when it reached fifteen, and by twenty? By twenty, she had enough.

Standing up with a weary sigh, she chastised herself for opening that door even a crack. You should have learned by now, she thought as she headed toward the exit. She was almost outside when she saw Tobias coming off the elevator. She turned on her high heel and headed his way. Why lambast herself if she could lambast him? He didn’t see her coming and reacted with surprise when he felt the shove on his shoulder.

“He’s here, huh? He’s waiting for me at the bar? Well, guess what? He didn’t show!”

“Kaycee,” Tobia started, but she wouldn’t allow him to speak.

“No! Don’t Kaycee me! This is precisely l why I didn’t want to get my hopes up! This is how it always ends with us... either he walks away, or he doesn’t show... and I swore I wouldn’t put myself in this position again!”

“Kayce, if you’d just let me....”

“NO! No, I don’t want to hear what you have to say because all that matters is that he’s not here! He’s not here, and....”

Her breath hitched when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Is that....” she whispered.

“You know,” Tobias smirked. “You might want to turn around.”

She turned around slowly, and just like that, life was imitating art. A feeling of warmth surrounded her the moment their eyes met. He may have aged a little, but she’d know him... she’d know those eyes... anywhere.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, handing her a single red rose. “I stepped out to buy this from a street vendor. I thought it would be a nice touch.”

With her heart racing, she lifted the flower to her nose and inhaled its fragrant scent.

“And that took twenty minutes?” she grinned, putting Ethan at ease.

“Well, I also needed to go to the men's room. It took more than one glass of Scotch to get up the nerve to offer you an apology that could make up for eight years.”

“Ethan,” she whispered, at a loss for words.

“Well, this is the shittiest rose ceremony I’ve ever seen, and I’ve had to suffer through many an episode of The Bachelor,” Tobias observed. He pat Ethan on the back. “Nice touch, a little cheesy, but not bad for you.”

“You can go now,” Ethan grumbled.

“I was planning on it,” Tobias nodded at Kaycee, then looked Ethan in the eye. “You two can take it from here. Don’t fuck this up.”

“Can we?” Kaycee asked once Tobias was gone. “Can we take it from here, or will one of us mess it up somehow?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” he smiled. “Why don’t we go someplace and talk.”

~~~~~

She couldn’t remember leaving the hotel lobby or how they decided where they would walk. All she knew was they ended up strolling along Central Park West, a comfortable distance between them, as she chattered aimlessly about nothing at all. Anything to avoid an awkward silence or, worse yet, an awkward conversation. While Kaycee faced straight ahead, Ethan couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She was as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps even more so. He was afraid if he took his eyes away, she’d disappear, and he wouldn’t allow that. Then, even in the dim streetlights, he saw her starting to shiver, and without missing a beat, he removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders, bringing her to a stop.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a half step back. “You looked cold.”

“Yes,” she smiled nervously. “It is... it is getting cold.” She motioned to a food truck on the edge of the street and smiled. “I’d suggest we get coffee to warm up, but I know that wouldn’t meet your standards.”

“Is that what you want?” He asked. “Go. Go sit on that bench, and I’ll get us some.”

“You’re going to drink coffee... from a food truck?”

Ethan shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips. “I have to start living a little sometime. Tonight sounds like the perfect time to start.”

He walked away, and Kaycee hollered after him. “Wait, you didn’t ask how I wanted my coffee."

He turned around with his hands in his pockets and utter confidence. “At this hour? Decaff. Definitely, decaff with a splash of milk, preferably almond, but if they don’t have that, plain milk will do. And Splenda, two Splenda... even though you know they’re not good for you.”

A slow smile spread across Kaycee’s lips. “You... remember.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I remember everything.”

“Well, I take three Splenda now,” she winked, and he felt his heart flutter.

“Go sit,” he smiled, and she all but skipped away.

She watched his silhouette in the ethereal light, still attempting to convince herself this was real. But she had to believe it was true when she felt the steaming hot cup in her hand. She watched with anticipation as Ethan took a sip from his cup and couldn’t help but laugh when he tried to contain a grimace.

“Oh, it’s funny,” he smiled. “Do you enjoy watching me suffer?”

“No,” she whispered, gently taking his hand and placing her coffee on the bench beside her. “No, I think we’ve both suffered plenty, and I don’t want either of us to suffer anymore.”

The touch of her hand impacted him more than he could have imagined, and he found himself unable to speak. He turned to her with tears in his eyes, just managing to mutter her name before pulling her into a tight embrace. Kaycee buried her face in his shoulder, taking in the warm, familiar scent she used to know so well. One of Ethan’s hands was entangled in her curls, while his other arm pulled her as close as he possibly could. They stayed there a long while, silent and amazed at the reality – both had assumed if this day were ever to come, it would be filled with fireworks. An explosion of passion that couldn’t be felt miles away. But the reality was different. It was warm, safe, comforting, a loving embrace each had desired for so long – it wasn’t fireworks, it was coming home.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” her voice cracked. “I can’t believe you’re in my arms.”

“I’m trying to believe it myself,” he said, pulling back to gaze into her crystal blue eyes. His hand cupped her chin, his thumb tenderly stroking her cheek. “You’re so beautiful. What kind of fool am I depriving myself of seeing this face for so long?”

Kayce reached up to take his hand, gently placing a kiss on it. “Then, shall we try to rectify that now?”

“We could. If that’s what you want.”

Kaycee sat back with a smile so gentle and warm Ethan didn’t need words to know her answer. She reached up and messed up his hair. “How did we screw us up so badly? I mean, I can blame it on being young and stupid, but you didn’t have that luxury.”

Laughing, he took her hand. “You may have been young, but you were never stupid. You knew so much more than me. I know there’s no fairy godmother that will show up with a magic wand, and I know we will still have things to work out. But the thing I know most of all is that I love you. I love you with all my heart, and I’ve wasted too many years without you by my side. I’m determined to put an end to that as soon as I can.”

“You love me,” she sighed. “Well, that’s good... because I love you. I love you so much.”

Ethan reached over and embraced her, letting out a joyful groan as he lifted them to their feet. She held on tight as he spun her around, stopping to gently put her back down. They stood face-to-face, a world of memories crossing their minds as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Time and distance had done nothing to them; their love remained the same. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, lighting a flame that had flickered but never extinguished. It was more than a kiss. It was a promise, a silent vow that was a testament to their love, which had never, ever died.

“We can’t screw this up, Ethan,” she said as they broke away. “If we’re going to do this, I want this to be forever. I can’t lose you again.”

“Good!” He grinned brighter than she had ever seen. “Because I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ethan offered his arm, which she gladly accepted, nuzzling her head into his shoulder as they started to walk.

“So, where are we going?” She asked.

“Well, I do have a hotel room nearby.”

Kaycee playfully nudged him. “A hotel room? Mister, I have a whole apartment, and it’s quite nice! You know, your girl did all right for herself!”

“Oh, I’ve kept tabs on you. I know you did.”

“Then let’s go!”

As they walked to her apartment, they passed the café Kaycee had dined in not too long ago, and she told Ethan the story of that night. How two estranged lovers had come together, and he professed his undying love. She relayed how she was trying to listen in on their conversation, but in the end, she didn’t need to since the young man yelled it out for all to hear. The crowd applauded, and she secretly paid their bill. It was straight out of a movie.

“I’m glad you got to see that,” Ethan smiled. “You always loved a happy ending.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed. “And now, I’ve got one of my own.”

(Yep that last part was from Part 1. 😊)

Thanks so much for reading!

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x f!mc #tobias carrick #sienna trinh #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #playchoices #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #open heart fanfic

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blacknwhitemood · 2 months

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Depeche Mode - Condemnation / finding video's location "near God"

It was only 3 days after the Memento Mori concert in March, when I learned that Condemnation video was made in Hungary, not far from Budapest, near Göd, in a small village's border, Göd-Újtelep. When I wrote about it to @mijamija1234, she suggested that what if I visited its location? I liked the idea, I've started to make a research. Later I found some colored photos on Göd-Újtelep's website (under this text) and I posted them with words "Condemnation’s video was made near Göd". @mftm1987's reblog tag was hilarious: #well sure it was made near god. I felt love with the concept, so this is my "project's" name: Near God.

The only screenshot from the video (1st pic above) that I can use for finding the location is not very helpful, considering that it happened more than 30 years ago. 31 exactly. In 28th of July, 1993 the band and Corbijn went "into the f---ing woods" early in the morning after the day of they Devotional Tour concert in Budapest. Dave talked about it the gig's night in NME, while Gavin Martin was making his long interview:

I won’t even sleep tonight. I’ve got to get up and go and do some… I’ve got to go off with (Anton) Corbijn into the f---ing woods and do the ‘Condemnation’ bit. But, really, I have fun with doing that. It’s just the eight o’clock morning, you gotta get over it.

I quoted from this article first time here, my updated daves-first-tattoo post (scroll to the middle). Another source, Daryl Bamonte, Devotional Tour Diary, Bong magazine, 1994:

It was a long trek from Belgium yesterday, and we had to drive out into the Hungarian countryside today for Anton to shoot the “CONDEMNATION” video. Dave seemed to spend most of the day being dragged around by Sam and Hildia. He wasn’t complaining though. It could have been the other way round…

Near God

It's not easy to find a DM video's location (except Strangelove), Corbijn preferred countryside for his videos and the nature mostly in different countries in Europe (e.g. Belgium, France, Switzerland, Portugal, Scotland) or in the U.S. Hungary is famous for its "puszta", which is similar to prairie. Before the single's releasing he could shoot the clip during the tour. They stayed 3 days in Hungary, I read somewhere that Corbijn choosed Göd's area for the reason being very close to the capital. On imdb.com it is simply Göd.

I was searching for those dirt roads from the screenshot with the Google relief map, impossible task. 31 years. I googled many times a day if I got some new inspiration, suddenly I found a person on facebook who commented Göd's page' photo of the day: she was there in her 14 years, "half of Göd was there". I wrote to her, 3 days later she answered that she would help. Wow.

We met today and spent only 40 minutes together. She and her husband took me from the railwaystation on a truck to the location that she remembered - and of course that become famous in the village. She told me the short story: "My friend's sister was a big fan. We didn't have phones that time, someone brought the news by bike, no one believed that. Later many cars went to the place with 50-80 fans. We were hanging on the fence, like the children in the video. There were huge reflectors, the shooting took until the evening. Now there is a big battery factory in the fields."

When we arrived, we walked to a small road but it didn't resemble to the video's for the first sight. In fact it is a huge field with woods around, at the end of the road there was the factory, "It was built on that hill on the picture" she told. She was sure, so we took some funny photos with the printed screenshot (at the background with their truck), I wanted to walk more to find a better view but it was a very hot Summar day and my guide didn't have much time. To the right on this map I marked the point where we took the photos:

I think the trip was worth it. All this area from the village to the woods down was the location of the video making. 31 years later the fence with the small cabin and the sunflower field disappeared but there still have straw bales, dirt roads and habitants who remember.

The single released 6 weeks later, on 13 September 2013. Although MTV played the clip on time, its DVD version released much later in 2002 on Depeche Mode - Videos 86>98+ (I ordered the very last piece of it from Antal). This DVD originally released in 1999 but without the clip, you can find a live version instead of (I have the 2000 edition), because - it is said - Corbijn wasn't quite satisfied with the final result, the band seemed too tired in the video, especially Dave.

I love this song. Not my favourite, but it's in my DM top 20. One of its reasons that the video was shooted in Hungary and Dave loves it. He has frequently mentioned Condemnation as one of his favourite songs. In this interview from 2006 you can hear directly from him at 00:37. As fandom.com wrote, Dave still gets goosebumps when he recalls recording the song:

I immediately knew the song. It wasn't necessarily completely accurate to the way Martin wrote the melody line or the phrasing or the timing. I just sang it, and [after] I sang it, the tape stopped rolling and it went on quiet. I've got my headphones on and I hear [producer] Flood's voice go, 'Yeah, I mean, you could do another one. But I think we got it.' / 2021, Exclaim!

Well, at Memento Mori Tour they sang to us twice in Budapest, in 28 July, 2023 (yes, this day <3) together with 50000 people and in 26 March, 2024 to 16000 happy fans. Honestly, I like Waiting For The Night much better, I really wanted to hear it live, I hoped that they don't sing the same song at the same city as first encore duett, Condemnation is difficult to sing, they've sung Waiting For much often at this tour... but I was wrong. I was confused with my feelings, I was disappointed. I was looking for the answers of they decision, and later I understood that somehow Hungary might mean Condemnation to them. They gifted us with Dave's favourite song. Twice.

#DM #Depeche Mode #Dave Gahan #Martin Gore #Andy Fletcher #Alan Wilder #Anton Corbijn #1993 #2024 #Hungary #Göd #blogger #not only pics #my post #sry for my bad English #believe me my Hungarian is much better

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usmsgutterson · 2 years

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Hearts In Sync- Heartrender! Kaz Brekker x gn! reader

Okay!! It’s season two release day and the concept of Kaz as a heartrender is something I’ve loved and wanted to write for for a bit. I did say I wasn’t going to post anything today because I’m fairly tired and the emotions are emotioning right now (I have cried so many times today,, it’s not even funny) but I edited both this part and the second part already but forgot to post this yesterday, so I lied a little bit lol.

This is part one! I had to split this fic up to avoid it getting to long, but fret not, the second part will come out tomorrow!

Fic type- this is hurt/comfort kind of? I can’t quite figure out how to classify it lol

Warnings- none

Kaz Brekker was known in Ketterdam as Dirtyhands. He was known as the Bastard of the Barrel, infamous for his gloves and his cane and his scowl that never lifted into a smirk for anything. He was known to be a ruthless killer, a reputation that took very little effort to maintain.

It was low maintenance, which Kaz liked. It was low maintenance for the fact that the moment that he stretched a hand in a single direction, the automatic assumption was that someones heart either had just exploded or was about to.

It was good, though, that his reputation was as it had been. It made people afraid, and at the end of the day, people who were afraid still made him decent money when they visited the Crow Club and were too afraid of Kaz’s intimidating presence in any one of the rooms to bother with cheating at a game of Three Man Bramble or Makkers Wheel.

“You don’t view it as weakness now, do you?” Jesper asked. The two of them had been sitting at a table in the bottom of the Slat, the both of them drinking bourbon. “I mean, you let yourself fall in love. A man who lets himself fall in love can’t view it as weakness. Not when he’s you, and, even despite the cane, he’s practically invincible.”

Kaz had spent many of his days observing people in love. He noticed the strengthened beats of their hearts in comparison to those who were not, the general happiness that couples carried simply by existing in one anothers presences.

He registered his own heart as it began to race from the moment he was able to sense your presence in any given room, the smirk that he had to fight as he heard your footsteps approaching, the one he had to fight as you placed a still warm cup of coffee in front of him and sat down, the one he almost grew tired of fighting by the time he’d slid you the steaming cup of tea he’d thought to order in the final couple minutes before you were to arrive.

“I don’t know,” he said. It’d presented itself as both weakness and strength a plethora of different times over the years. “I do know, actually, I just can’t really explain it.”

“Ah,” Jesper gave a nod. “You Barrel bosses and your complex emotions.”

Kaz only registered the familiar beat of your heart as you sat down to his right.

“Barrel bosses aren’t really all that complex if you learn how to read their expressions,” you said.

“Bold to say that when discussing a man who’s face always looks monotonous.”

You shot Jesper a grin as Kaz slid you the tea. “Yeah. He views emotions as weakness, I think.”

“You can read his expression no doubt,” Jesper said, and Kaz found himself smirking momentarily at his bourbon. Even if his face remained monotonous, you knew the right places to look to determine what Kaz had been feeling. You saw it in a way that nobody, not even the ever so observant likes of Inej or Wylan, ever could.

You paused, shot Kaz a look. Worth it?”

Kaz only shrugged.

In the seconds to follow Kaz ignored the feeling of your gaze moving across his face analytically, he registered how face your heart had begun to race, felt himself fight a smirk as he realized that his heart had been beating faster than yours.

“He’s missed me,” you said. “And he’s wondering about the deal. The bourbon he’s been drinking has long lost the effectiveness it used to carry and is now just sour and cold, and he misses the coffee he would normally be drinking during the day. Bourbon isn’t his usual, so he’s probably either looking to get some rest earlier than he would or he just wanted a quick way to get drunk enough to sleep but the bourbon hasn’t been worthwhile enough for him to have another.”

Kaz met your gaze, blinked surprisedly as Jespers eyes widened. He seemed to be just as shocked as Kaz had been. Someone who was able to read his expressions as easily as you had always been a bit of a surprise, and it never was something he got used to.

“The deal went fine, by the way,” you said. “All is well and good. Got the building for a discounted price after I mentioned some infidelity on the sellers part. He’s gonna be pissed when he goes home tonight to find his wife has thrown his shit onto their front lawn, but it was worth it.”

“Ah, so the continuation of using the dirt against our enemies continues,” Jesper said, grinning slightly. “Glad to know that we of the Dregs like our traditions. Speaking of using the dirt against our enemies, however, whens the next heist?”

“Bloody hell, don’t tell me I forgot to mention it? Fuck, I knew there was something I neglected to mention last night. Do me a favor and pass the info along to Wylan as well, will you? We leave for a heist in The Wandering Isle, on the behalf of the king and queen of Ravka, in eight days time,” Kaz said.

“Two hundred thousand is the payoff, but Nikolai has been so generous as to send along a fully manned boat and a crew to sweeten the deal. The boat is engine powered and it’s ours once the heist is said and done. Called it a gift and let me know that, should the officials from the other countries agree, we’ll be looking at closer to half of a million. Half a million across seven people is worth it, with the adage of a boat that will make getting to Ravka, leaving it, that much easier? I couldn’t refuse.”

“Nikolai is one of the best negotiators I’ve ever seen,” you said. “Damn him and his charms. We’re sitting at two hundred thousand currently but if he and Zoya can charm the socks off of a few leaders, we’ll be getting 71,000 and some change, when split seven ways.”

“I’m in,” Jesper said. “Wylan will be, too, I think. He misses it; the usage of bombs with criminal intent. A demo man will be needed on the job, correct?”

“A demo man is never useless,” Kaz agreed. “Especially not in The Wandering Isle. The stuff we’re grabbing is highly guarded and the penalties for taking most of it is death by hanging, and even as such, I doubt that doing so with the permission of the king and queen of Ravka will get us pardoned. The things that we’re taking originally belonged to Ravka and the other countries with which it has temporarily allied itself, but locals don’t know that, and the government likes it kept that way. A few dozen explosions will only do us good.”

“Rest of the crew?”

“It’s us, Inej, Nina, Matthias and Wylan. Nikolai was also so kind as to allow a healer to be dispatched from his staffing at the palaces so that any fatal injuries can be treated. Provided nobody finds our boat and kills the crew, we’re practically set.”

Jesper grinned as he got up. “I’ll go tell Wylan the good news. Enjoy the next eight days of heist prep.”

Kaz scoffed. “I will,”

Both you and Kaz watched Jesper go, a quick and easy rhythm settling over you as you conversed. You talked until you had to pick up a shift behind the bar at the Crow Club and Kaz returned to his office to look over heist plans.

Eight days later, you were standing at the ships farthest right, grin on your face and eyes brightened by the dim light of the sunset as you kept an easy hold on a cup of tea whilst the boat moved closer and closer to the Wandering Isle.

Your forearms were draped over the boats edge, your eyes on the sunset as Kaz approached. He stood to your right, shooting you a smirk.

“You’ve always had quite the affinity for sunsets.”

“And you have always had quite the affinity for joining me to watch them,” you said. “Not that I mind. Your presence is about the only thing that’s relaxing to me right now. I checked the forecast in the Wandering Isle. Rain for the entirety of the time we’ll be in the city, and snow the moment we’re due to leave. It feels odd to me.”

“Rain means good luck in Ketterdam,” he’d said, and it had been true. A lot of the heists with the best payouts seemed to come about either just before, just after, or sometime during a period of rain. You should’ve been thinking of the rain to be lucky, not the opposite.

“I know it does,” you said. “And I know you’ve thought through every possible outcome because that’s what you do, but I’m still--I just don’t trust it. I have no idea why I don’t trust it, but I feel like whatevers left that can go wrong will.”

“If something does go wrong, we’ll fight through it together,” Kaz said.

“I love you,” you whispered.

Kaz turned his gaze to the skyline for a moment for a moment before he looked away. “Always.” he whispered back.

Silence draped itself over the two of you, though it was a comfortable one as it had always been. Kaz listened to the sound of his own heartbeat for a while, only to stop and listen to yours.

He realized rather quickly that they were beating at the same rate. It made him remember a study he’d read wherein it was found that couples heartbeats and respiratory rates often synced up, and that just made him scoff, smirking at you as he watched you drink your tea.

“What?” You asked. “I don’t have something on my face, do I?”

“No,” Kaz said. “Just admiring the view of the sunset, is all.”

You grinned, taking in his face. “You love me too, Brekker. I can see it in your eyes, in the fact that you’re standing closer to me than normal. You’re also worried because I’m worried, and I appreciate that. Thank you for validating my concerns.”

“Always,” Kaz said again, and the comfortable silence took the both of you over once more, contentedness wrapping itself around you both much in the manner of a blanket as it did.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix

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sorencd · 1 year

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day trip date hcs

a/n: a short thingy i needed to barf out!! after listening to day tripper for like the thousandth time the thought of going on a cute little road trip to the next state with wilson stuck with me whshsehd enjoy! AND!! AND the steven one is next this was just sitting in my drafts rotting for so long i had to post it dhasd

yesterday, you've already practically spent the entire morning until noon in bed lazing off in wilson's arms. only occasionally going out to grab something to eat and swiftly returning under the covers. now that you've recharged your drained out battery caused by a hectic last week, you brought up the idea of spending the day off on the road to wilson.

he loved it of course! he's already packing up all the stuff u need waaaay before you. he prepared the food, snacks, your favorite tunes, a map so u know where you two would like to stop, and of course he can't forget ur trusty camera!

you've decided to drive through west virginia and kentucky, and each time you saw something that you find interesting (even if it isn't that interesting) you'd ask wilson to stop for a bit and pose beside it so you could take a photo of him. and he would stand so awkwardly by it but his smile makes it all worth it!

"we need to take a photo of you and mothman."

"why?"

"you two would look so cute!"

and that brings u to him standing beside the infamous mothman, his thumbs up with a goofy smile and a pair of shades on him! u could've considered him a dad atp with the fit he was wearing.

and how could i ever forget singing songs with windows rolled down??? screaming the lyrics at the top of both your lungs like absolute loons??? you've seen so many confused looks from many of the cars you've passed by lol

and when the dopamine blast has settled down and the car is engulfed in silence, which is something u aren't really fond of since u can't last like more than 5 minutes without hearing wilson's voice, you'd be spitting random facts left and right.

"what do you know, female hyenas have dicks. huh. did you know that?"

"??? did i need to???"

he's grown accustomed to it and has learned to accept the sudden bombardment of unnecessary information.

you love feeding him the snacks he brought!! he suggested multipled times that he could always stop at a gasoline station or restaurant but you always insisted that you would give it to him instead. wilson wasn't one to complain though and happily obliged without hesitation.

your camera roll would be filled to the brim with both cute and silly photos!! there would be some polaroids scattered around the car of a close up of james' nose, or his eye, a weird selfie you took while he was focused on driving, or maybe him doing a funny expression beside a landmark u two stopped by to see!! your collection of polaroids that u put on the refrigerator door continues to grow by the second, and u love it!

when the day comes to an end and he's driving back home with the sun setting down, u tugged on his shirt and asked him to watch the sunset. he thought this only happened in movies! james could feel his heart swell when he looked to left to see your pretty face that he loved so much being hued by the setting sun on the horizon.

DUH how could he not kiss u at that moment??? he softly grabbed your chin to crane your head towards him and kissed you, causing a surprised yelp to escape your lips. and after that he jusy continued driving and left u all blushing and stuff lol

masterlist

#house md #james wilson x reader #james wilson

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bookscandlesnbts · 10 months

Note

they must have been planning/talked about this for a long time since the application process starts so far in advance, and then they went on their japan trip so would’ve had moments alone nearer to the enlistment time so of course they would have private moments to talk, but it also must be so difficult when you’re moments from actually enlisting and there’s btb staff cameras, media cameras, parents and family, 2 enlisted members and everything! so overwhelming - the moment where JK rubs JMs head and JM looks away then back at him, and that long look they cut at the end of the btb felt so…. heavy

Hi anon. Get ready for some all over the place thoughts because honestly, I’ve been having a hard time. And I knew I would, but even trying to anticipate this and getting myself mentally “ready”, I am not ready. I was not ready to say goodbye to Jimin, to Jikook to any of the members. And I’m not fooled. 18 months is a long damn time. If it’s this hard on day 2, then I need to prepare myself. I need distractions. If I still get anons, and can come up with things to post, then I will stay active on here. I have no one to gush about BTS with in my real life and even less so now that they are all gone to MS. I made it 2 minutes into Jimin’s last live and then I couldn’t do it. He was devastated. He was holding back tears and we know from a decade worth of content that Jimin is not one to cry easily. He waited until the very last second to cut his hair. It really broke my heart to know that he has to do this and doesn’t want to at all. In fact, I spent pretty much all of yesterday and the day before crying and now I am having moments where I break down if I’m alone with my thoughts for too long. Don’t be fooled either. It’s not just Jimin. I’m furious that all the members and every citizen has to. That MS is mandatory. But I’m not going to talk about that or go further into my thoughts on it.

I figured it would only be a matter of time before we learned more about the application timeline, but I knew it had to be far enough in advance. If I had even known that a companion enlistment existed, I would have called it from Day 1 that they would enlist together, but I sadly can’t claim that.

I hope they got as ready as they possibly could. It seemed like the reality set in for JM and JK during their lives, and unlike some of the shittest most obnoxious parts of the fandoms (yn cis hets looking at you) that claimed that JK was going to be so excited to go and want to even stay longer, he wasn’t. He wasn’t at all. His live was short and somber. He also said that he was iffy about it. I know BTS didn’t want special treatment, and part of me is glad that they didn’t get it because of the uproar that it would cause, but it’s still awful that they had to do it at all. I have to trick myself sometimes into thinking that it’s not what it really is just to cope.

The way Jimin bent forward to JK showing him his head made me cry. He needed comfort and approval, and JK just rubbed it over and over and looked away from Jimin for a minute. I think he was overwhelmed too. Of course, he complimented him which was so sweet.

I’ll be honest, I’m pretty terrible at noticing footage cuts, but that one was SO OBVIOUS that if I can notice it, then it’s really bad. I can’t even speculate what was cut because I’m not creative but my guess is that they said something comforting and private to each other.

In summary, I hate this. I knew I would hate it. But it’s so much more painful than I could have imagined and I think it’s because JM and JK were both so sad in their lives. And don’t get me wrong, I’m so so glad they were honest with us. That’s how you know that they aren’t “fake” and “scripted” like some idiots want all of the members to be characters in a tv show. They are human and they bared their human emotional souls to us. And it broke my heart and it will for the next 18 months. I think about how long we have been without Jin already and it sucks so much. But we will be there for each other. We will try to have little joys and experiences. We will work on ourselves and improve whatever it is we want to improve or achieve. Or some days or most days we will just fucking exist. We also don’t have to do anything monumental or special. Existing is enough too. Existing until 2025 when they reunite.

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notsocheezy · 2 months

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V-Day - The Next Twenty-Four Hours

I thought for sure things could only improve, but I was horribly wrong.

The CO2 they pumped me full of has remained a problem and only gotten worse. My surgical site still barely hurts, but I can't breathe more than an inch deep without excruciating pain. The only way to move this air out is by moving my body to dislodge it, and though I did get out of bed briefly yesterday, there have been conflicting statements made regarding whether that was medically advised or not, but I did it with a nurse's help, so don't blame me.

Even the maximum dose of oxycodone is not enough to do more than take the edge off of this pressure in my guts. I can hardly breathe and I can't eat - not just because of the increased pressure worsening the pain, not just because of the post-op constipation, but because I was not adequately kept supplied with my normal prescriptions. My digestive system is a trainwreck on the best of days, so I take the maximum dose of Pepcid each and every twenty-four hours... Until I got here, that is. Last night all they gave me was my estrogen.

I spent the night in a haze, caught between nightmares and acid reflux and chest pain and gas. Around nine PM, I was in so much pain that I started crying. I must stress how unusual this is: I do not cry from physical pain. This was 11/10 on the scale. And the nurses were in no rush to get me another pill.

I've not eaten a thing today. And I didn't eat much yesterday, either, despite enjoying the food. There is simply too much going on in my guts.

Today I was prompted to get out of bed again, and it was easier but no less painful. I was on the verge of fainting by the time I was able to sit back down on the bed. The shoulder pain is probably the worst part of standing, and that doesn't even make sense.

I wanna double back a little here, since I don't think I properly explained yesterday. There were five incisions made in my abdomen for the robot arms to get inside me, and the CO2 was pumped in there so they'd have room to work. That aspect of the process has by far given me the most problems. That said, it's also the reason why nothing down there particularly hurts. Robotic surgery is more precise. In the long run, I do believe it'll be worth it, but I'm suffering today for the promise of happiness later. Kinda like religion.

Anyway, that's kind of the jist of what's going on with me right now. It's bad. Real bad. But I figure as soon as I can make a bowel movement, things will quickly improve. You lucky folks will be among the first to hear about it!

Current pain rating: losing perspective on what zero felt like, 5/10.

#nsc original #trans surgery #trans people #trans woman #transgender #trans #transfem #transfemme #vaginoplasty #bottom surgery #GRS #SRS #sex change #(i can call it that if i want to)#lgbt #lgbtq #V-Day

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padfootagain · 1 year

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You and the King (III)

Chapter 3 : Fighting with Words

Hi lovelies! Here is a new chapter for my Caspian series! Y/N is getting fierce, and I love it. Also, troubles are coming…

I hope you like this new chapter! Let me know what you think!

****

Pairing: Caspian x reader

Warnings: None… insults? Is that worth a warning?

Summary: Sequel to The King and You – After meeting Caspian in your own world, you decide to follow him to Narnia, your love for him too strong for you to keep your old life. But as you discover the magic of Narnia, you soon realise that this extraordinary world is as dangerous as it is magnificent. Will your love for Caspian be enough to defeat your new enemies?

Word Count: 3740

Masterlist for the series – Caspian’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Dalia was far from stupid.

After refusing to attend your first meeting the previous day, she was expecting Caspian to call for her and ask for explanations. It was part of the plan, actually.

Caspian was an amazing man, a great king. But he was also a little naïve sometimes, a little bit blind. She blamed it on his kind heart. He had a tendency to see the good in people before he could see the bad. And that was the cause of her worry now.

She took a deep breath before opening the door of Caspian’s private office. It was barely dawn, the light still shy, golden, almost orange in a sky tainted with pink. The Castle was waking up, servants hurrying back and forth to prepare breakfast, guards sleepily walking to take their posts. A ballet she knew by heart, that she had known all her life, growing up side by side with Caspian and the royal family.

A ballet you knew nothing about, and yet…

“Come in,” Caspian’s voice was loud and clear as it answered to her knock on his door.

Her face was unreadable as she stepped inside the room, and Caspian was not surprised. She excelled in this art of pretends, of hiding emotions and thoughts. She had been raised at court, after all, she had learnt to wear a mask, just as he had.

He hated that she still used her mask when he was around though. Despite the many years of friendship between them, it felt like she still didn’t fully trust him.

“Good morning, Dalia,” Caspian politely greeted her, but she didn’t fail to notice that his tone was colder than usual. “Take a seat.”

She complied, sitting on the opposite side of the desk. The long, wooden piece of furniture was buried under parchments, documents, maps…

Caspian had been busy. She guessed that he had tried to catch up with his duties during the night, to compensate the day he had spent with you.

She hated you for the dark bags under his eyes.

“You wanted to see me,” she spoke slowly, her voice perfectly calm and polished.

But Caspian wasn’t fooled. He knew her too well for that. And he knew about the ways of the court as much as she did. He was used to tear these masks apart now.

“You know perfectly why I’ve asked you to come this morning.”

“Let me guess… it is about your new fiancée.”

He frowned at her tone. It sounded a little cruel, disrespectful, full of disdain…

He hated it. The very sound in her voice, but now more than ever because the poison was aimed at you.

“I don’t like your tone,” he answered in a cold voice, staring intensely at her.

“I’ve never really cared…”

“You should, Dalia.”

A heavy silence settled across the room. Dalia broke it with a scoff.

“I apologize, My Liege.”

But her tone was mocking still.

“We are friends. We have been for a long time,” Caspian spoke his words slowly, with a heavy frown and a weight on each of the sounds. “But that does not mean that I am not your King. And that certainly does not mean that you can so blatantly insult me and get away with it.”

“I can hardly call sarcasm an insult.”

“You did not come yesterday. How do you call that?”

“I was sick.”

“Now, Dalia, do not play that game with me. I know you are lying.”

He was angry. He was glaring at her and she hated it. She hated every second of it. She didn’t back down though.

“Do you truly want to know why I did not come?”

“Yes, I do.”

She leaned forward a bit, coming closer to him, as to try to catch his attention and put more weight into her words.

“I believe that you should reconsider your decision about Lady Y/N.”

Caspian frowned hard.

“What?”

“You barely know each other, you are going too fast.”

“I am not…”

“There is still no treaty with Lord Cirvan and his men. And you are making things worse with their lands, refusing to marry Cirvan’s daughter to announce your future wedding less than a day later. You are making a mistake.”

But Caspian narrowed his eyes at her.

“You know perfectly well that if I made an announcement about my engagement with Y/N, it is precisely because of Lord Cirvan and his men. Because I need the assurance that he will not try to marry me off again…”

“But Caspian, this wedding presents no political advantage.”

He clenched his jaw. He was beyond angry now, and Dalia knew it. She couldn’t claim she had not been expecting this, but it still hurt to see such fire in his glare aimed at her.

He didn’t say a word though, and let her continue.

“I know that it sounds cynical, but your wedding is an incredible opportunity to build lasting alliances with other kingdoms, and powerful lords, and you are endangering our borders by acting stubborn and letting a strange girl manipulate your feelings.”

“Manipulate my feelings? Do you even hear yourself?”

“I do. And I know what I am saying. You are a King, Caspian. Women try to seduce you for the throne every day.”

“Y/N is different.”

“Because she made you believe in one of the old fairy tales? The great love stories? Those are good for Doctor Cornerlius’s books, not for us who are dealing with real politics. You are making a mistake by wanting to marry this stupid girl…”

She fell instantly silent when Caspian stood up, jaw clenched and eyes glaring.

“I understand your worry about politics and Lord Cirvan,” Caspian spoke, words slow and voice deep, clearly struggling to remain calm. He was leaning over his desk, palms resting on the map splayed across the wood. “But, Dalia, I will not have you insult Y/N, do you understand?”

“You are being manipulated…”

“I am not,” Caspian answered, voice firm and decisive. “You do not know Y/N, you have spent less than an hour with her. Why do you not trust me on this?”

“Caspian… you are King. People will try to manipulate you. Does it not sound strange to you that all of a sudden this woman has fallen madly in love with you, in barely more than a month, and has decided to leave everything behind to join you here, in Narnia? Do you not think it weird that she might leave her ordinary and rather pointless life behind without thinking for a second about the fact that you are King? Do you not think that it is precisely the reason why she did this? She left because she could become a queen. And you were too foolish to see it. Blinded by… I do not even know what could have blinded you… she seems completely ordinary.”

Dalia fell silent, waiting for Caspian’s reaction. She hoped she could shake some sense into his head. She hoped she could make him see that you were not fit to be queen. What by Aslan’s name was he doing? You had worked together so hard to get him there, as a stable king on a Narnian throne, and now he was falling into such a silly trap?

He stared at her with eyes of stone, icy cold. She searched through her memories but didn’t remember him ever looking at her this way. Of course, after so many years, they had fought countless times, he had been angry against her before. But she had never seen such a rage, it was mingled with something protective that she hated, because you were the source of it.

“You know nothing of Y/N, Dalia,” Caspian repeated in this same slow tone of his. “She has given up on everything to come here…”

“That is what I am saying! If not for the throne, then why should she come?”

But he frowned, a little taken aback now.

“Because she loves me, Dalia.”

He let out a wry laugh.

“So, do you really think me such an awful man that no one could love me for who I am? That the only reason anyone has ever showed any interest in me is because I am King? Well, thank you for the compliment…”

She shook her head, her expression softening.

“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Then why is it so difficult for you to imagine that Y/N has chosen to come here because she loves me? Nothing else. Dalia, do you realize what it means for her? She has left everything and everyone she has ever known, she has been thrown into another world she knows nothing about and is so different from her own… If she wanted money or power she could have tried to earn those in her world and it would have required less sacrifices from her. She came because she loves me. And I love her, Dalia. I love her more than anything. Had I not been King, I would have not come back to Narnia.”

Her eyes grew round.

“What?”

“I came back here because I am King. Because my people needs me. Because I cannot abandon Narnians. Because Aslan, Eustace, Peter, Lucy, Edmund and Susan trusted me to take care of this land, because my father died for this… But without this responsibility, without so many people I would have failed by leaving for good… I would have stayed with her in New York. I love her enough for that. I understand her choice, Dalia. I would have done the same, but I couldn’t.”

He let out a deep, worried sigh as he stood straighter again. He seemed tired more than angry now. Dalia hated seeing him like this. She wished she could take all his worry away.

Still, when he walked around his desk to stand next to her, leaning against the piece of furniture, his presence was still reassuring, strong, kingly. He ran a hand through his hair to brush the strands away from his eyes, and she wished she could have been the one to tame the rebellious strands…

She remembered how soft his hair was. She had touched the gentle strands a couple of times, always thanks to a silly excuse, always hidden behind a lie. There was something in his hair, it wasn’t tied properly… no matter the lies, they were worth it.

Did he let you touch his hair as much as you wanted?

“Dalia, I know what I am doing. I want to marry Y/N. I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life. She loves me. She loves me, for who I am. She loves me despite the crown, do you understand? She is terrified by all this. By the Narnians, by this place, by our ways, by the prospect of having so many responsibilities and power over people... She is not craving it, Dalia, she is afraid of it. And I need your help, I need you to show her our ways so this place can become her home too. And I love her, Dalia. I know that marrying her will not fit into any kind of political scheme, and I do not want it to. I love her, and that is enough. Do you understand?”

Slowly, she nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced. And indeed, she wasn’t. When he asked for her help again, she nodded anyway, promised to be more open-minded, to give you a chance.

But she had no chance to offer you. Not when Caspian looked so handsome in the early light of dawn…

“Alright, let us go through this again, shall we?”

Doctor Cornelius was kind and patient, and you felt grateful for him being your first teacher. So far though, you felt a little stupid.

You knew a few things about Narnia, because of what Agatha told you back in New York, because of Caspian’s stories… But their tales did not include any concrete information about Narnia, about their custom, about their land…

It was an awful lot to take in.

First, you were taught about Narnian currencies, basis of geography, and the current relations with other kingdoms and lands surrounding Narnia. Later on, you would be taught about Narnian laws and traditions.

“Dalia will smoothen up your manners to fit the court,” the old teacher had told you. “But I will make sure you understand what is happening around you, and that no one will make a fool of you during a conversation.”

Tough job, indeed… because as you tried to memorize the list of names set before you, you felt utterly brainless.

You had been working for almost four hours now. There was a bright sun outside, happy and inviting, but you were stuck there, in this dusty room, with a terrible headache…

And you felt like you would never make it. Never be ready…

You started as the doors of the library opened, and you recognized Ammos accompanying lord Baras and Luis towards your table. You struggled to swallow…

… they could only mean trouble.

You offered them a warm smile anyway, and they bowed before you.

You were unsure how to react, but Lord Baras spoke before you could decide what to do or say.

“My Lady. I see that you are busy this morning.”

Small talk. It called for something more important, and you assumed, less pleasant as well. You cautiously nodded.

“Yes, Professor Cornelius is helping me learn about Narnian ways.”

“It must be quite overwhelming.”

“Quite,” you admitted.

But your voice was cautious. You were new to Narnia, but you were not an idiot. Baras smelled of trouble. His smile was too sweet not to, too honeyed, as if it would turn sour soon.

“It is noon already, My Lady. Lord Luis and I wondered if you would like to join us for lunch. I am afraid our King is busy today, but we do not want you to feel too lonely for your first days in Narnia.”

You looked for an excuse to refuse, but couldn’t find any. You didn’t want to let anything slip that could compromise Caspian in any way. He had warned you that the court could be ruthless and would be filled with rumours.

But there seemed to be no way out of this, so you nodded with a smile, and followed the two Lords outside the Library after bidding the professor a good day.

They guided you throughout the fortress, and you didn’t fail to notice the annoyed glance they threw over their shoulder towards Ammos’s tall figure.

You wondered if Caspian had asked your bodyguards to remain by your side all day simply because he feared for your safety, or to have a spy…

There was small talk for a while, a rather boring exchange of questions and answers, until you reached a small room, where a table had been set for about ten people. It included three women, who looked at you with fake smiles and judging glances. You felt unbearably self-conscious under their stares.

But you were too old to be intimidated this way. Instead, you merely shot them a tight smile, and followed Baras to take a seat by his side around the table.

You noticed the stares, they were not as friendly as the day before, when Caspian was by your side. You were not surprised though…

There were a few other Lords that you recognized, but they didn’t seem friendly either.

You guessed they were all great at hiding how they felt, and make happy faces for their king.

“Oh, it is delightful to finally meet you, Lady Y/N! Or should I say… Queen Y/N,” one of the women told you after introducing herself as Velma. You didn’t fail to notice the sarcasm in her voice.

Your smile was tighter again. You weren’t sure if you ought to react or not. You wanted to snap back at her, throw a witty remark, but you didn’t want Caspian’s reputation to falter because of your behaviour. So, you merely remained silent instead, and looked down at your plate, filled with appetizing food.

“I hope your royal chambers fit your needs,” Velma went on, insisting on the word royal.

“It’s perfect,” you answered in a neutral tone, tightening your hold on your fork.

“How strange that the King has made an official announcement out of nowhere,” she went on, turning around as to not be talking to you, even if you were in the room. “I would have expected more restrain.”

“You mean, more wisdom,” one of the Lords said.

You recognized him, but couldn’t recall his name. He went on.

“A period of courting is needed, may the lady come from another world or not.”

He glanced over at you, but didn’t speak directly to you, and you hated it.

You planted your fork in your carrot with a little too much strength, but you didn’t care.

You would answer the next jab made at you, you knew you would… and you reckoned that you would be right to do so.

“The king must be eager,” Velma shrugged. “Even though… she doesn’t look like much…”

You clenched your jaw and glared at the woman.

“I am sitting right here, in case you haven’t noticed,” you spoke between gritted teeth.

“I know, my Lady. I am simply discussing a fact, that our king seems eager to marry you… for some reason.”

“Because we love each other? Is that not a good enough reason?”

But they all laughed at you. Even Barras, who had tried to remain neutral and seemed to merely study you. Except for Ammos, of course, who remained perfectly still behind you.

“You are quite naïve. Or optimistic. It is quite refreshing,” Luis chuckled.

“I don’t see how.”

“You seem to have much to learn about political alliances, then.”

You looked down at your plate at that. Of course… royal weddings… they ought to come with a political arrangement. That’s what Caspian almost did with Cirvan and his daughter…

“Emilia was a good choice. A shame he changed his mind.”

You felt a sharp pain cross your heart at that, but you didn’t let it show.

Instead, you let your anger find your next words.

“A chance you’re not in charge of the decision, then.”

“Indeed,” Luis went on. “I would have advised my king to be more cautious in his choice of wife.”

“It’s true I don’t bring lands or money to the table. Sorry about that. You’ll have to be contempt with my striking personality instead.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, surprised. You didn’t care. You were too annoyed and tired, and this headache of yours… it was getting worse.

Your nostrils were tickled by the scent of something burning, you wondered where it came from. But it wasn’t improving your painful head, that was for certain.

“My lady, I am certain your personality is delightful, of course. Why else would the king have chosen you? I can see no other argument in your favour.”

You looked down, unsure why the mean reply hurt you so much. Perhaps it was because you felt uneasy, when the ladies by your side seemed perfectly at ease… and it didn’t help that they were ridiculously beautiful, too.

“It will not, however, change the fact that we have lost a treaty so that the king could bed you.”

Your head snapped back up, feeling heat creeping over your neck and cheeks.

Had Velma truly said that?

You shouldn’t be petty, but you reckoned that she deserved it.

“Wow, that was classy, at least.”

Everyone around you frowned, but you didn’t really care. The manners you were trying to behave with were slowly leaving you, just like your patience.

“I’m sure you can do better than that,” you went on. “If you want to play the insult game, then at least make it a challenge. Or did you never find anything clever to say after you stopped being an idiotic teenager?”

Velma stared at you with wide eyes, her mouth slightly agape, and you reckoned that you had won the duel, for now.

“Now, I am grateful for the invitation to lunch, Lord Baras,” you went on, turning to the man right before you. “But if this was merely meant to spend an hour insulting me right into my face, next time, be free to let me eat on my own. I’d rather have no company at all than an awful one.”

You tried to sit as straight as you could, and with as much dignity as you could muster.

“This kind of words are not expected from a future Queen,” Baras commented, but he had a small smile tugging at his lips. “Is it how you act in your world?”

“In my world I would have thrown my plate into your face. I am mustering all my restraints to not break anyone’s nose.”

You were surprised when he laughed, but Baras did. It was hesitant at first, but when you raised an eyebrow, he let out a bright wave of laughter.

“Forgive us, my Lady. We have underestimated you, it would seem,” Baras said, and there was something a little strange in his gaze, like he kept on studying you but seemed to have detected a worthy opponent instead of an innocent sheep.

You weren’t sure you liked that look though, but for the rest of the meal, no one dared to attack you anymore, or at least, not so openly. You reckoned it was some kind of success…

It didn’t prevent the gnawing feeling in your chest to make you feel miserable as you walked out of the room. You waited until you were alone in a corridor to let your shoulders drop though, rubbing at your temples because of this bloody headache of yours. The burning smell lingered, you wondered where it came from. Perhaps from the torches?

You wondered how much time you would have before Dalia would arrive. You weren��t sure to be ready to see her, she would not try to make you feel better, that was for certain. You wondered what could be the cause of her animosity towards you, but then again, you had an idea. You just hoped you were wrong about that…

A rival was the last thing you needed.

***********************************************

Taglist : @reg-arcturus-black @sergeantbuckybarnes @intothesoul @pat-sirius @rockintensse

#caspian #caspian x #caspian x reader #caspian x you #caspian x y/n #narnia #caspian fanfiction #caspian fanfic #caspian series #king caspian #the chronicles of narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia series #fanfictions #fanfic #writing #series

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sovonight · 2 years

Text

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)

—✧✧✧—

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)

—✧✧✧—

Art Exchange

—✧✧✧—

First Impression / Attention

—✧✧✧—

United in Misery

—✧✧✧—

Waiting [crossposted on ao3]

(extra art)

—✧✧✧—

Recognition [crossposted on ao3]

—✧✧✧—

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

#i didn't even know what to title this. 7000 words of me getting this ship out of my system??#sovo writes #baldur's gate #honestly though the way he was like 'she'll get over me' after the effect he had in HERE is like. i dont think so my man #xan x radri

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tumblebagel · 17 days

Text

I'm not sure how to make this post, because I know that Valerie is very much active on this site and very well may see it.

So, uh, hi. If you're reading this, I want you to know that you're an amazing person. Genuinely a big inspiration in my life. I'm going to express a bit of disappointment and sadness in this post, but I want to make it explicitly clear: I am not disappointed with you. This isn't your fault, and I need to make sure you know that. In all fairness, I DO know you know that. I read the confession. I just want to make sure that you REALLY know. Progressing a story that's hurting you more than its inspiring you is not worth it. Nobody deserves that. Emotions are messy and complicated and I'll be over it eventually. C/K/C looks amazing, and I cannot wait to see what you do next.

With that in mind, we get to the heart of this post. An incredible comic, only 1 and 1/2 chapters long, called Goodbye to Halos.

I discovered the comic right after I discovered I was trans. Literally the first thing I did after my egg cracked was look up: "trans webcomics", and there it was. Safe to say I didn't know that I was getting into SO much more.

I was instantly hooked by the worldbuilding. Even before it started to branch out, the visual contrast between skyport and lionsbridge was so striking. And as a developing artist, I got to see firsthand things I didn't know were possible to do with color. It was about at the time that I got to the "Why can't love just be a matter of fact?" page that I understood I was truly reading something special.

While reading I discovered parts of myself that I didn't know were there, like the often repeated philosophy that refusing to care about people is, in the words of the comic, "just so boring". The complexities of gender expression. Body positivity and the concept of non-sexual nudity.

I binge read the entire comic up to until Fenic waking up under the dragonfly. From that point I was glued to the page every day, constantly checking for updates.

The future of the comic has changed a number of times since that point. Including art style changes, hiatuses, video entries, and reboots. Until yesterday, the last I had heard was that the world of GtH would continue in a reboot-esque way with Unsave the World, a story developed in the same engine as C/K/C, focusing on Clarissa and Selin.

As, anyone interested in my blog will note, I am very new to Tumblr. Only joined recently. Yesterday, I had the idea to seek out Goodbye to Halos content, and Valerie Halla, which is where I got the confirmation that lead to this post.

"[Goodbye to Halos] was a hiatus when it went on hiatus. it took me a long, long time to come to terms with saying that it’s probably not just a hiatus, though. i will always love that story and those characters, and their spirits will live on in what’s to come, just like portside stories before it."

I... slept on it. I was distressed at the time. Honestly, I think writing this right now is still me working through it. Like I said before, emotions are messy.

But. That's it. Part of me is fixated on the word "probably", but the rest of me understands that thinking like that is only going to hurt my views on it over time. Not worth it to poison the past.

I've spent the time between that and now thinking, as much as it seems I've only done sulking that whole time. And from my thinking, I've come to a decision. I've figured out how to come to my own "don't be sad because it ended, be happy because it happened":

I'm going to make

So Much

FUCKING FANART

You're not gonna believe it. If I feel inspired by this story, and my brain's not satisfied with how the characters/worldbuilding/themes have been explored, I'm gonna do what everybody's done before me since renaissance painters after reading the Bible.

I'm going to make a frankly ridiculous amount of unofficial fan content, and when my brain finally burns out, I'll be over it and I can finally move on.

Look out Tumblr, I'm about to start chopping onions

#text post #goodbye to halos

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ardathksheyna · 1 year

Text

Do It For You

I haven't been posting my art as much. The reason? I'm tired of attempting to coerce whatever algorithm each site is using to reach my current followers or even new followers—and that includes Tumblr. I was doing pretty good on Instagram... until they changed their algos to favor big influencers more, which happened sometime in August.

Actually, Tumblr seems to be the worst offender compared to other sites. Or I'm probably getting pissy because of the tabs "For You", "Your tags", and "Following"—all three show me the same shit I saw a few days ago. And don't even get me started on Tumblr Live. If I wanted Only Fans, I'd go to Only Fans. But I digress...

Since then, I've slowed down on posting artwork of any sort on all platforms that I'm part of. Yesterday was probably the first piece I've posted in a while, and that was basically done on a whim.

Anyway, what it boils down to is I am (and a lot of other people) are tired of sacrificing mental health for likes because in order to keep the engagement, you have to constantly churn out piece after piece. Unfortunately, the algorithms seem to favor quantity over quality—you can bust your ass on a piece, but someone else churning out prompts (yes, I'm referring to AI art) can get more engagement because that's what the algos favor: speed.

AI art is problematic by itself—for many reasons, the least of which is how the AI algo is trained. However, that is a complicated mess and another thoughtful post for another time.

On the flip-side, algorithms also favor videos over static content—Insta's in particular (basically favoring the sloppy seconds of TikTok over genuine content). On that subject, I like YouTube's implementation (Shorts) better than Instagram's anyway.

All that being said, the current climate of the internet is hostile to content creators. Twenty years ago, you didn't have this uphill battle of trying to train an algorithm just to get views. Really, all you had to do optimize for search engines and you were pretty much set.

Now, it's a balance between your mental health and trying to retain the level of engagement that you do have, and then become frustrated when you're doing everything right and still get fucked because some bean-counter decided that they want more profits.

It's almost too easy to get discouraged and think that what you're doing doesn't matter and all you're really doing is shouting into the void. When that happens, you have to ask yourself these questions:

Who are you doing this for? (0 for someone else, 10 for yourself)

Do you like making art? (0 for no, 10 for yes)

Do you want the attention (rate 0 to 10)

Are you only doing this for likes (rate 0 to 10)

Yeah, I made that up on the spot. Whatever score for each question you come up with will tell you where your priorities are. If you're doing this for anything other than enjoyment or for yourself, well... that leads me to my next part:

You see, I learned a long time ago that when you're doing something mental/time-intensive for reasons other than pure enjoyment, it is very easy to get burned out quickly. I know this because once upon a time, I used to enjoy writing code. After graduation, I spent my free time trying to improve my skills—not for myself or because I enjoyed it, but because I thought it was the only way for me to retain a job in my field.

Well, I think we know how that ended—badly.

Because of my past experiences, I made a decision a while ago that what I'm doing, I'm doing for me (and maybe my boyfriend) but not for anyone else. The stories I write, the artwork I create. I'm not doing it for likes, I'm doing it for me, because I like what I do. Because I like the creative process and seeing how far can I push my skills.

So keep that in mind if you're struggling with mental-health and trying to beat bullshit algorithms. It's not worth the stress, and that stress just steals energy from your creativity.

You're doing what you love for you and maybe a few others—not for likes, attentions, engagement or whatever fake internet points exist nowadays.

Remember: do it for you!

#thoughts #art #fuck social media #social media #mental health #Spotify #fuck algorithms #fuck ai art

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tobegiggledat · 2 years

Text

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MDNI

✦pairing: Emi Fukukado (Ms. Joke) x afab!reader

✦word count: 2.3k

✦warnings: angst, mutual pining, kissing, massages, mutual fingering, begging

Original Post ✦ Midnight Ending

Why is it only now that your thoughts of Emi have become more reoccurring and invading?

Ever since that night, most of your time is spent looking over past photos you have with her, but your heart now flutters erratically as if you weren’t the one to take them. You stalk her socials through the lense of a first-time spectator, looking over her pictures in awe at the face you're still pleased to see almost daily.

What if her jests from yesterday were nothing more than just that, jests?

It’d be her cruelest joke yet, to plant fresh seeds of romance into your chest that continue to blossom and root deeper from the nutrients of her enchanting smiles and the water of her riveting words.

The night before Valentine’s Day seems to be eternal as you occupy your imagination by putting a face to the letters you’ve accumulated, you allow yourself to be enamored by vivid but immaterial depictions of Emi drafting the very messages you long to receive.

Maybe you’ll write her a letter yourself to send to her tomorrow morning.

✦��✦ ✦✦✦

My one and only Emi,

It is through this letter that I make a confession, a conclusion that took me many years to reach, but am delighted to make nonetheless.

I love you, and in many ways more than a friend should. I love so dearly I even ache without you in my dreams.

Do you feel the same as I?

Yearning for you every moment,

Your Dearest Companion

The email evaporates into cyberspace with a click of your fingers, but your doubts still persist long past the moment it’s sent.

Emi hasn’t messaged a word since yesterday. Your limbs are numb and prickling with each anxiety-ridden exhale that escapes you yet you must continue teaching as if that isn't so.

To maintain an impeccable composure for the rest of the school day despite this will be a testament to your resolve, and potentially a glimpse into the future of your friendship with Emi.

After all, if your feelings aren’t reciprocated, you’ll have to hone this mask to utmost perfection so that things will remain the same.

Class ends with an eerie hum of the school’s bell, and when your room has emptied, all your emotions are left unrestrained.

A day’s worth of nausea and bile finally bubbles up to the surface to manifest itself on your tongue in thick strings of drool, your throat gulps heavily to sink the chunky liquid back into your stomach until you gather yourself enough to leave your classroom.

Don’t let it slip.

You try to piece together your wavering façade on the train ride home, morphing and pulling your skin with your fingertips until your fallen brows settle back into place and your lips are no longer twitching and downturned.

Don’t let it slip.

Your awkward fumbling past your apartment lobby increases in pace, you avoid direct stares with the friendly elderly couple that accompanies in the elevator, even as they chatter to you gleefully and incessantly.

Don’t let it slip.

Your keys are jammed into your door with a jerk of your arms against it.

The familiar scent and scenery of your home trigger the stinging drops in your eyes to stream down your cheeks in hot streaks. Your knees nearly buckle beneath you before you find purchase on the nearest chair in your living room to let the sobs take hold of you completely.

You’ve ruined everything.

Your body jolts with each cough and splutter you muffle into your crimson, overworked palms, now slick with viscous snot and drool—you dejectedly eye the expensive assortment of cookies you bought yesterday to satisfy Emi’s sweet tooth.

A distant knock at your door briefly pulls you out of your melancholic haze, yet your whimpering form remains unmoving as you don’t want anyone to see you in such a decrepit state.

You let the persistent banging fade into the background until your phone buzzes to life for the first time it has all day.

Emi: Aren’t you going to open the door for your secret admirer?

You hastily dash for the kitchen sink to run cold water over your caked features and ineptly pat them dry, once finished, you twist at the door knob to meet Emi standing proudly with an elated look, a leather handbag hooked on her shoulder.

“Emi, I—”, you sputter before you're swiftly interrupted.

“Have you been crying? Your eyes are all puffy.” Emi's smile diminishes to a crooked frown, her slightly calloused palms extend to cup your cheeks so that her thumb can stroke it gently.

“I haven't heard from you all day”, your rigid neck thaws into her touch as relief settles through your muscles. “I thought I might've upset you with the email I sent.”

“No-No, never. I'm sorry, I just wanted to surprise you”, her soft voice floats through the air like cotton; it nests itself in your ear canal, tickling your senses and burrowing its dizzying wisps in the folds of your brain. “I love you, and I meant every word in those letters I wrote—”

Your damp lips crash against her plump ones to capture the rest of her confession between your teeth, imprinting her words into your mouth then swallowing them whole. Her hands are tender as they still envelope the sides of your head and attempt to bridge a nonexistent gap—pressing you closer and closer until your atoms seemingly align.

When did Emi first know she was in love with you?

You wish to ask her so that you could revisit your past conversations while over analyzing each word until it seems as though you were a fool for never noticing.

But you also wish to treasure her sentences more intimately—to dedicate a region of your brain to the ridiculous rambles she'd spew just to get a laugh out of you, and another folder of your memory to the moments your eyes couldn't part away from hers.

Lost in the throes of her passion, it takes a while for your mind to catch up to the scenery change as you're draped across your mattress, your choked pants filling the air from the bruising attacks her mouth makes against your collar.

The dull flickers of pain from her teeth turn sharp, her pointed canines searing your flesh and leaving vermilion indents but not pressing harsh enough to pierce the skin. Your pelvis bucks into her hips from the sudden pleasant zaps across your sternum, but when her tongue lathes over the tender spots afterward your writhe in her hold.

Each time her tongue pulls away between slurps she seems reluctant, as if breathing were trivial compared to relishing the divine taste of your skin. You readily comply with her cravings, presenting your delicate neck to ravenous jaws while providing her all the more surface to revere.

Her suckles and nibbles along your skin drift downward as she strips you bare, followed by her doing the same for herself with her goddess-like form presented to your overly-enthralled eyes.

“Let me take care of you”, she says quietly as she pulls away to fish around for something in the bag she brought. A small, clear bottle and a metallic red box rest firmly against her palms, she places them on the bed beside you before gently guiding you to lay on your stomach.

She mounts your lower half, shifting her weight slightly against you as she lathers her hands with the substance in the bottle, permeating the room with a rich aroma of jasmine, chamomile and other exotic scents you can’t quite place.

Her oily hands scoop along your shoulders, pressing deeply into the taut skin then swirling and flexing against it until your muscles become more supple under her touch. She repeats these motions along your back and the sides of your waist by sinking her lithe fingers into your flesh and scooping and prying at the restlessness that’s seemingly settled beneath your skin in the form of sediment—calcified worry that’s seeped into your veins to stay.

A cataclysmic burst of lust gathers at the apex of your thighs despite the innocence of the act, you’re overcome with a libidinous desire to feel more of her, to feel more of her touch in the throbbing areas that have formed across your body.

She guides you onto your back so that she could begin repeating her ministrations to your chest, her lower thigh resting close to your core but not touching it. For a moment, she peels away to fiddle with the red box from earlier, but when she returns she softly presses something against your lips.

Her eyes are lidded, lips parted in a gentle awe as she watches you take the piece into your mouth, swirling the rich chocolate flavor around your tongue until the remaining creaminess glides down your throat smoothly.

As her hands travel downward to caress your thighs, she parts them before eyeing the thin string of arousal that’s webbed over your lips and grins at it salaciously. She avoids touching your folds and instead fondles the meat around it, making slow rotations as you twitch and coil beneath her.

Another piece of chocolate is placed on your lips, but Emi captures your mouth before the sweet can dissolve, slipping her tongue between your teeth to gather some of the taste for herself then leaving you panting with drool covered lips while her leg steadily starts to rub against you.

The sensation of her nude thighs grinding into your sex makes dribbles of slick seep from your arousal, lubricating your desperate movements as you chase the euphoric tingles surging through your clit.

Dew drops of sweat coat your face in a thin luster while the combined heat from your bodies create a thick atmosphere around you, one which steadily grows into a fog from the friction of your continued frenzied glides. Your high never quite approaches as it swiftly tapers off at the cusp of your peak from lack of pinpoint strikes onto your pulsating nub.

Your understimulated sex aches for more of her fleeting but precise contact, as pure, undiluted desire swells in your neglected walls until suspended on the verge of erupting as a collapsing pressure takes its place. You need more.

“Emi, please”, you beg, futilely meeting her unfulfilling collisions with your sex in hopes your orgasm would return.

The pleasurable breaching of her agile fingers at your entrance dismantles your chance for any more intelligible pleas with your thighs snapping around her palm as your body unconsciously curls to the side. She follows your curvature, planking beside you so that you could see the delighted smirk that adorns her mouth while her hands are unremittingly sliding within you.

Her other hand guides your thumb between her legs, you place it against her peeking clit before smoothing deep circles on it so that it matches the pace she's set in your opening.

“Mhmm, like that”, she says it breathily and it sends another sublime rush of heat to your stirring gut. “I wanna see your pretty faces as I cum too.”

A harmonious symphony of sighs fill the air as you move in tandem with one another, but as Emi brushes over certain ridges your focus on her clit falters with your eyes batting before fluttering back from her calculated strokes in your hole. Her fervent kisses she stamps into your cheeks are the only way you're kept grounded, temporarily brought back to shore before once again swept away by tumultuous waves of arousal.

Your fingers tangle themselves at the roots of her soft, sea-green strands, tugging slightly to mesh your lips against hers, absorbing her wanton sounds and shivering as the vibrations flare into your bones. A balmy pool of spit gathers where your eagerly sloppy mouths meet then oozes from the sides to coat your chin in clear, sticky sap.

“Feel so good around my fingers, it’s like your swallowing me—fuck”, Emi unevenly pants before dropping her head onto your shoulder, her glassy eyes mimicking your dreamy, lidded gaze as that all too familiar coiling begins to unravel.

A series of scattered thoughts pop into your lust-drunk befuddled brain only to swiftly fizzle away with each of her ministrations, bubbling through your synapses until releasing through the air of your moans to leave you stale and breathless.

“Wanna cum with you”, she finally voices your desire but you can only murmur her name in disjointed fragments.

Your thumb is slippery and overworked—the soppy pad of your finger dull and reddened—yet the clenching of Emi’s warm thighs spur you on with the pace of your unsteady, but enthusiastic rotations quickening until you’re both whining and humping for climax.

“L-Love you, Emi”, you choke, your walls clamping wildly around the digits inside you as your orgasm breaches and gashes your overwhelmed walls for release. Strained gasps escape from Emi’s overly-parted lips while she’s also hastily strung above the peak of climax only to be dropped at the bewitching sight of your blissed-out features—her lips encapture yours the moment it torments her limbs so that she’d give you a shaky, but searing kiss.

You stare dazedly into your lover’s eyes, insides still twitching and raw from pleasure, but mesmerized by the swirling jade pools of her irises.

“Write an article about me?” Emi proposes in jest while beaming from ear to ear.

“Maybe”, you reply just as teasingly. “You did give me great material to work with.”

A tickle of laughter emits from Emi’s glossy lips as she shuffles closer until both of your noses touch. “I love you.”

You give her a gentle peck then smile cheesily. “I love you too, and I’ll forever be grateful for all the letters you’ve sent me.”

Her eyes crinkle tightly at the corners, dripping tiny droplets as her mouth curls up slightly. “Had you not sent me your own letter, I would've gone back to pretending my feelings never existed.”

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