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strawberrywritersguild · 9 months

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♡ The Little Things: Chapter 1 - Medicine & Mild Colds ♡

Pairing: Julian Bashir x gn!reader Word Count: 1983 words Summary: A famous historian gets on board the station, and immediately gets sick. Julian has to figure out how to take care of them and this alien disease, when they can't contact the Trill and their own is on a long mission away.

You play with the ring on your finger, the crude markings rubbing against the pads of your other hand. You're not usually nervous about visiting space stations, and you aren't really now, but the heat emanating from inside you makes you uneasy. You would've liked to delay this visit, but the Bajoran space station is a historic site and it's your duty and passion to document it.

The docking procedures are almost ready, the captain of the ship coming to inform you. You stand up, swaying a bit, but you push through it. This isn't the worst you've ever gone through, nowhere near it in fact.

The doors to the docking bay open, and the sight of the Deep Space 9's senior officers in single file greets you. They're an impressive sight, even though you know one of them is missing. A shame, you'd always liked Dax and her unorthodox ways.

"Professor, welcome to Deep Space 9. We're honoured to have you here." The commander, Benjamin Sisko, greets you. He offers you his hand, which you take with just a slight stutter. You know he knows your hands are too warm for a trill.

"It's an honour to be here, but call me (MC). Loriaz (MC)." You say back, going back to wringing your ring. It's starting to feel increasingly cold.

"Of course, professor. Major Kira and constable Odo will be accompanying you to your quarters, after which I've arranged for a tour of the station for you." Sisko guides you away from the docking bay, towards the nearest turbolift. You nod, feeling a block in your throat.

You sway slightly from side to side. You slow your walk just to try and seem less inebriated. You feel the pretty young man with puppy eyes hover his hand over your shoulder, just before you feel a flash of hot, and then everything goes black.

You collapse suddenly, to the fright of your little convoy. Julian quickly catches you, settling your head in his lap.

"Doctor, what's happened?" Sisko demands, kneeling down besides the two of you. Julian checks your forehead with the back of his hand.

"They're burning up! I'll need to get them to the infirmary immediately." Julian starts lifting you up from under your armpits, struggling for a moment.

"Constable, go with them." Sisko commands, tapping Kira on her shoulder. "Major, you're with me. We have to check that ship before anyone else disembarks."

"Do you need help, doctor?" Odo asks as Sisko and Kira jog towards the ship. Julian answers by picking you up into his arms and leading the way.

Julian's checking every damn device they have in the infirmary, trying to figure what's wrong with you. All he's really gotten is that you have a high fever. There's really no records of trill illnesses in the federation databases, especially on board this station.

"What have you got, doctor?" Sisko asks as he steps inside, walking to stand by your bed.

"Nothing much, I'm afraid trill are a bit of a medical mystery to us. Without Dax here, I don't really know what to do." Julian explains, giving you a dose of anesthesia after a few pained sounds escape your chest.

"I'll see if I can contact the trill about this, they ought to want their precious professor in good health." Sisko says, nodding before departing the infirmary. Julian nods back, even though he knows Sisko can no longer see him.

Julian sets his hand on your forehead, initially just to check the temperature, but feeling the soft skin under his fingers he can't help but caress it.

"Soft…" he mutters, feeling the soft locks delicately resting on your head. Your head shifts closer to his hand, probably because it's much cooler than anything else near you. But Julian can't help but think that you're searching for comfort, amid whatever you're going through. "Don't worry." He whispers. "I'll make you better."

"What do you mean you can't send a subspace message to Trill?" Sisko asks, almost demands, one of their officers.

"I'm sorry, sir, but there's some space distortion that's preventing any long distance communication right now. We can't contact anyone until it's gone." She explains, frantically trying to find some way to get something through.

"Well then find a way, or we might have a dead trill on our hands!" Sisko insists, scaring half the ops station. He regrets his tone immediately. "Apologies."

"I'll see what I can do, sir, but I make no promises. It'll likely take at least a day until we can send subspace messages."

"That'll do." Sisko says, leaving for his own office. The officer sighs, going back to her screens. Superior officers, am I right?

"Home… Pixie…" Julian swivels in his chair, hearing soft mutterings from his newest patient. He quickly springs up, figuring that you've woken up. But to his surprise, you seem to just be talking in your sleep.

"Pixie?" He questions, leaning closer. Maybe you'd give some hints to what's happening to you?

"Pixie… Must get… Pixie…" you continue muttering, your words becoming incomprehensible.

"Get where?"

"Not… home… Must be…" You take a deep breath, and fall into a deep sleep once again. Julian shakes your shoulder a bit, but that all seems to have taken the last of your energy.

Julian stands straight, heading over to his computers. "What's Pixie, and where does it need to get to?" he mutters, opening the file the station had gotten on you prior to your arrival. One of the last things that had gotten through the space distortion.

Searching for Pixie through the file gets him nothing, nor does anything relevant come up with a general search. Julian's about ready to start going through all the irrelevant files when the computer sorts out for just a moment.

Julian hits the communicator on his chest immediately. "Bashir to ops, what's happening?"

"The space distortion just cut of all the communications. We can no longer contact anyone, nor can anyone contact us."

"Damn." Julian curses, looking behind him at the patient's bed. He's not certain how long you can last without any outside help. The lights shut off.

"The space distortion is going to intercept with the station in just a few minutes, and we can't predict which parts of the ship they'll shut off." O'Brien explains, gesturing to the screen with predictions of the space distortion's movements. Sisko gives a deep sigh, massaging his forehead. He can already feel the headache forming from this.

"Just, try to make sure none of the life support systems fail. Too badly at least."

"That's all we can hope for, at this point." Kira says, leaning against the command console. The lights flicker, and everyone gives a deep sigh of worry.

Julian's giving a new injection of anesthesia to you, everything around him still dark. At the moment, all he can hope that nobody will be in need of actual surgery anytime soon. He wasn't sure he could do much of anything right now besides patch up some wounds.

"Mmn… Rain…" you start muttering again, Julian petting your head to calm you down. You'd been coming in and out of deep sleep every once in a while. He doesn't really know why, or what to do about it. All he really knows is that it's not a sign of you going worse, and that physical contact makes you stop.

"Wonder what it is that you're dreaming of." Julian whispers. He'd not gotten an actual change to talk to you, but taking care of you like this, it made him more fascinated than he'd been with anyone since, well… since he could remember.

"Pretty…" your eyes open the slightest, focusing blearily onto the good doctor. Julian blushes, even though he's pretty certain you're not referring to him. Then, your eyes snap open and you start gagging violently.

"Nurse! Get me a pulmonary scanner, stat!" Julian shouts, trying to get you to a better position for breathing. It's not working particularly well.

"Doctor, none of the scanning equipment is working!" A nurse shouts back, earning a curse from Julian.

"What to do, what to do?" Julian quickly riffles through his equipment, grabbing a mix of equipment that would hopeful be of use. Grabbing your jaw, he sets your head as far back as he can, and slams one of the devices on your chest, turning it on. He quickly opens your mouth, and starts on the old technique of CPR while the machine pumps at your lungs. Your lips are soft, but he doesn't have the time to focus on them now. You might be dying.

It takes five deep breaths, and two adjustments to the lung compressor before your breathing slows to normal again. Julian takes a deep breath as he separates from your lips for the last time. Your eyes are still open, but extremely hazy and you seem to be falling asleep fast.

"If you… you wanted to kiss me, doctor… you could've just asked." you mutter, a lazy smirk on your lips before you pass out again. Julian blushes, jerking back from your med bed. If he didn't know better, he'd like to lie to himself that he got whatever you've got too.

"Doctor, the scanning equipment is working again!"

"Right now?!" Julian shrieks, his voice several octaves higher than it's supposed to be. He groans, sinking his face into his hands.

It takes five hours since the passing of the space distortion for Jadzia Dax to get back from her mission. When she disembarks from her ship, she's immediately assaulted by the hands of a frantic doctor shaking her.

"Jadzia, I need you in the infirmary immediately!" Julian shouts, his voice higher than normal. Before Jadzia can question him, Julian is already pulling him towards the infirmary.

Julian immediately shows Jadzia the professor laying on the med bed when they get to the infirmary. "Them! There's something wrong and we don't know what!"

Jadzia laughs, to the astonishment of the doctor and couple of nurses mulling about. "Dear Julian, he simply has a cold."

"A cold?!" Julian cries out, looking between Jadzia and you. "Just a cold?! They almost asphyxiated five hours ago! This can't just be a cold!"

"Trill cold's are a bit different to what you humans are used to. And from what I know of the person, Loriaz was a sickly person even prior to the joining." Jadzia explains, to Julian's utter shock. "I'm sure I have some cold medicine in my room."

"A cold…" Julian mutters.

"A cold…" you mutter, to which Julian automatically responds by petting your head. Jadzia observes the gestures with an amused smile.

Julian finishes the final checks on you, happily jotting down your stats. "Well, I'm happy to inform you that you are in quite perfect health. For now, anyways."

"That's what every doctor I've ever had has said to me." You laugh, the sound ringing in Julian's ears like bells. "If Loriaz wasn't so damn brilliant in history and politics, I would've never been chosen to join."

"So, am I to expect to see a lot of you, then?" Julian asks, a hopeful quirk in his voice. You smile, the same smile you had when you teased him right out of a fever-induced sleep. It makes Julian blush, almost bright enough to notice.

"Possibly, good doctor." You say, leaning towards him. Julian stiffens up ramrod straight. A slow but innocent peck is pressed against his cheek, just next to his lips. "Thank you, good doctor. I know that I'll be happy to be in your care in the future."

Julian nods quickly, following your slow departure with stiff movements. You wink back at him before disappearing out of the infirmary.

"…" Julian takes a deep breath, feeling a bit dizzy. He softly touches the spot your kiss lingers on. "Hope to see you soon, professor…"

#The Little Things #Julian Bashir x reader #Star Trek #gender-neutral reader

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gamerbot-22 · 2 years

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Arcana LIs Tending to Red Plague Trauma Flashbacks (Part 2: Julian & Muriel)

Part two to the following request by @dameschnee123!

Feel like we need to ramp up the angst so when you can piggybacking off of my last request, M6 when MC has a horrible flare up ft. a lengthy bout of high fever + memories/hallucinations of being burned at the Lazaret. For a lil fluff the first thing they do when the fever breaks is call for the M6.

I would also like to thank @starry-eyed-wolf for giving me the motivation to get this wrapped up finally!

DNI

C & TWs include:

All: Angst, sad/bittersweet endings at best, discussion of trauma/traumatic events. Julian: Hallucinations, mild descriptions of the feeling of burning alive Muriel: Anxiety

Part 1 | Part 3 (WIP)

🩸 Julian (x)

"HERE! I’M HERE!”

The shop rattles as Julian stumbles in through a back window, nearly falling flat on his face when his foot catches on the windowsill. Malak crows in alarm, soaring in over the doctor's head and flying in circles around the interior of the shop. His heavy black wings shake hanging gems and bundles of herbs. The air fills with the smell of the distressed herbs and the dry screams of the raven.

Any other night, Malak would have perched himself on the skull on one of the back shelves. Julian would have a glass jar full of soup in one arm, a smile on his face, ready to share dinner and a few stories with you. Now, both creatures are full of fear.

Julian staggers to his feet, accidentally slamming the window behind him shut just a tad too hard, causing the frame to rattle in place once more. "MC!" He calls into the shop, dashing through the curtains of the back room he stumbled in from and into the main room of the first floor. "Be quiet, Malak!" He scolds, half-heartedly swiping at his companion as he continues his restless flight around the room. "MC!"

Malak squawks once more before landing on the counter, hopping from side to side and restlessly shifting his wings against his back. Once he settles, it's oddly quiet. There's no sign of life aside from the gently swinging wares that Malak had bumped into earlier. Julian stands at the foot of the stairs, a hand on the banister as he looks up. He doesn't realize that he's holding his breath until he hears the wooden floor above him creak. "MC?" He calls, much softer this time but still tinged with worry.

Upstairs something crashes and the doctor shifts back into high gear, quickly ascending the stairs with his coat flowing behind him like a heavy shadow. Malak follows after, cawing once he reaches the top of the stairs and zips in through your open bedroom door ahead of Julian.

"Stay back!" You yell as Julian rounds the corner after Malak, stopping the doctor dead in his tracks. You're propped up against the bedframe, breathing ragged and panicked, and face red and wet with sweat. In one arm you wield Asra's old traveling staff, aiming it right at Julian's heart. Your grip is shaky, like your arms could give out at any moment and send you crumpling to the floor. "Don't touch me!"

Julian raises his hands in defense and takes half a step back from you. "Won't! I won't! I'm over here." He assures you quickly, speaking against the growing lump in his throat.

Malak settles on the end of the traveling staff, folding his wings and staring down his beak at you. The sight of him sends a jolt of fear up your back and you drop the staff, shrieking and falling backwards onto the floor. The raven quickly takes flight before he can hit the floor and crows in panic, flying into yet another fit of going in circles around the room.

"HEY. You quit flying around this instant!" Julian hisses, raising his hands towards the ceiling and swatting at Malak a few times. The bird's cawing mixes with your panicked screams and Julian's heartbeat throbbing in his ears; it's all unbearable. After a few futile attempts Julian manages to land a light but firm hit to the side of Malak's wing, disrupting the bird mid-flap and finally getting the message across that Malak needed to leave.

The distressed cawing quiets as Malak makes an exit, soaring out to the hall and down the stairs. Julian doesn't even stop to think of whatever might be happening now that his companion's fit moved to the shop, all he can focus on is you, laying flat on the floor of your bedroom, struggling to find the strength to prop yourself up.

"MC, please, hold still," His voice is still shaky with annoyance, but his tone is vastly more serious. His coat trails behind him when he kneels beside your head and it takes every ounce of restraint to not just pick you up. You very clearly did not want to be touched, and he wasn't about to distress you any further unless it was completely necessary. "What's happening, what do you see?"

"Stay back," you wheeze. The fight still rages in your chest, but your body doesn't follow through on your effort to get up and run away from the shadow looming over your side. You were used to the doctors in their blood stained white frocks, their sickly-sweet or macabre monotone voices, and their horrible tools you saw them brandish at both you and other patients. Was this a new doctor? A change in staff? Something entirely worse? "Please don't take me downstairs..." You plead against the hot tears welling in your eyes.

Julian's heart sinks at your tone. He balls both hands into fists and rest them on the floor beside his hips and rocks backs away from your face. "You don't have to go anywhere you don't want to, MC," The doctor says firmly, trying to keep it together. The last thing you need now is to have him openly panicking, too.

"What are you seeing, MC?" The shadow's voice echoes in your head, making your head throb like a beating drum. Tears are freely falling down your face now. Your body feels like it's on fire and your vision is res and blurred at the edges.

"A s-shadow..." You rasp, trying to roll onto your side away from Julian.

"Hey hey hey!" Julian carefully takes you by the shoulder and you twist against him, whimpering as two big tears roll down your cheeks. "I know, but you shouldn't move," Julian orders and slightly tightens his his grip.

The gears in the doctor's head are turning at double speed, trying to sort out how he's going to help you. "Where's the shadow?"

"Y...You."

Ok, so you're hallucinating. "Is the shadow scaring you?"

"Yes..." Your body shakes as you cough. Slowly you start to curl into yourself, trembling hands clutching at your clothes to simulate a tighter space.

"Hey, I don't want to scare you," Julian drops the Big Doctor voice and sits upright, still gently holding your shoulder. "I'm not scary, I just want to help you."

You don't respond outside of a miserable whimper. The beating in your skull is getting louder and the reverb feels like it's spreading out to the rest of your skeleton, shaking you down to your marrow. It all hurts so much.

He wants to ask you more questions but you're clearly in no shape to speak now. Carefully and quietly, Julian unfastens his coat and lets it fall to the floor behind him, then sets to work removing his heavy gloves. "You're sweating a lot. Are you warm? You can just nod."

Julian watches you closely as you tilt your head up and down slowly. "Can I touch you? I promise it won't hurt you. Nod if yes."

Another soft nod follows. Julian sighs in relief and pulls off one of his gloves, holding it in his other hand so he can reach for you. Portia always told him he had the coldest hands, and he wasn't about to leave you like this, so maybe this would help you to cool off while you regained your strength.

You flinch against the shadow's fingers when they touch the back of your neck. It's cold, freezing even, compared to the burning heat that threatens to consume your entire body. "Does this help?" The shadow asks behind you. It's voice sounds familiar now, but your head still hurts too much to think about it. "Yes," you respond through grit teeth.

"I can cool you off more if you come with me," Julian assures you, not moving an inch from his spot on the floor. You seem to be responding better to him now, so he feels more confident in suggesting further relief. "I can get you some cold water we can put on your forehead, and there's medicine I can give you downstairs."

Instantly the heat comes searing back, frying the ends of your nerves and threatening to roast you from the inside out. With a panicked sob you try to scramble away from the formerly comforting shadow. "N-No! Not downstairs! You can't make me!"

Julian stares in surprise for a second before scrambling to his feet. "Hey, hey! I won't make you go anywhere!" He insists, once again stifling the urge to just pick you up and hold you. "You just need your medicine, please--"

"Whatever medicine is downstairs you can keep to yourself..." Your words drip with a venom so potent it almost stops Julian's heart completely.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder and find the shadow's shoulder slumped, the hand it had pressed to your neck half extended towards your crumpled shape on the floor. An unknown guilt constricts your throat alongside the smoke that rises from your stomach and you wish desperately you could take back what you said.

Both Julian and you stay in place, frozen stock stiff and silent as death. The weight of your words hangs like a sword over your heads, and it feels like an eternity before Julian finds the ability to speak.

"I know you're confused," he speaks slowly, cautiously stepping close to you, "and very scared. Very very scared." Julian kneels once more, keeping his ungloved hand outstretched to you. "But whatever you're seeing isn't real, MC. I'm here and I want to help you."

You tremble against the side of the bed on the floor, one arm thrown over the top of the mattress and clutching at the blanket. The fearful beating in your chest starts to slow to a more reasonable pace as the shadow in front of you speaks. As it speaks you swear the voice becomes more and more familiar.

"There's nothing downstairs that will hurt you. And if anything tries, I'll be there with you." Julian gently touches his fingertips to your trembling hand. You aren't as hot as you were earlier, and his shoulders relax in relief. "Please, MC, let me help you."

The uncomfortable warmth living in your hands retreats against the shadow's cold touch. Your head throbs once or twice more before seemingly relaxing, clearing the edges of your vision. Everything still seems strange still, a little otherworldly, maybe, but the fear starts to leave as the shadow fully takes your hand in its own.

"Y-You promise it's safe?"

"On my life, MC." Julian gently takes your other arm and lifts you to your feet, propping you against his chest before your legs can give out and send you back to the floor. "Come on, I'll keep you safe."

The two of you quietly move from your bedroom to the hall to the staircase. Julian's sure grip and comforting promises of safety keep you steady as you travel down the stairs. By the time you reach the landing, your headache is almost completely gone and your body doesn't feel like it's cooking from the inside out anymore.

"You sit here, I left my bag in the back room." The shadow helps you settle onto a cushion near one of the shop windows. He presses his bare hand to your forehead, feeling out any remnant of the fever. "Seems almost normal now, but you should still take some medicine. I'll just be a second."

The shadow turns away with a flourish, the image of a black coat coming through clearly in your eyes. A little stunned, you rub your eyes and look towards the doorway to the back room, but all you catch is a boot sliding between the shutting curtains. You look over the room and slowly start to recognize the familiar sights and smells of your shop. On the shelf behind the counter sits Malak, having long since calmed down from his panicking from earlier. If Malak is here, then...

"Julian?" Your voice is strained but loud enough to get his attention. The doctor's tired face pokes out from behind the curtains and he lifts his arm, showing off the cloth bag of medicine he's started to take with him everywhere.

"Right here, my love," he smiles. You see that his eyes are a little watery as he strides back over to you, easily producing a small vial of an orange-ish medicine from his bag.

"What happened?"

"It was just a bad flare up," his assurance seems a little flimsy as he kneels beside you on the ground. Without breaking eye contact with you he opens the glass vial with a satisfying pop! "Open, please, this'll help kill that fever."

You take the medicine from Julian and down the dose in one swig. Your whole body shudders against the artificial taste and you involuntarily stick your tongue out like a child.

"It's awful, I know," Julian chuckles, taking the empty bottle from you and dropping it back in the bag.

"Ilya, I'm so sorry," you sigh, leaning against his chest. You feel his torso stiffen under you, no doubt his face red with a blush at the sudden contact. "I said that awful thing to you... and I almost hit you with the staff..."

Julian freezes, pondering what to say. Truly he's at a loss for words to comfort you. Finally he just wraps his arms around you, holding you as close as he can manage, letting your warm body settle against his. "It's alright, MC, it's alright..." You can feel his chest puff up a little before he continues "It wouldn't be the first time I was threatened with a staff, after all. Doubt it will be the last. Did I ever tell you that story, MC? About the marauders I met outside of Firent?"

You chuckle against his neck, "No I don't think you have." The adrenaline wearing off from that whole experience has left you completely wiped, and a story would definitely help your descent into a comforting sleep. "Tell me about it, would you?"

"It would be my pleasure, love."

🐻 Muriel (x)

You had been getting progressively worse for the last few days. It wasn't anything new to either you or Muriel, but you could tell by the way he stood just a little closer to you than normal and gave you a little extra soup every evening that he was worried. He always stayed close to the hut, making sure your window was open and he and Inanna were in earshot at all times and every day or so he would tell you how the neighbors were doing.

Today was actually a very eventful day for the neighbors, as the latest round of chicks had just hatched. After the chicks had some time to get acclimated to the world around them and rested with their mothers and a few handfuls of feed as a bribe, Muriel gathers a few chicks together in his hands and brings them back to the hut.

The man is brimming with excitement. You've always taken an interest in the neighbors (even if it was a little annoying when you first insisted on helping feed them,) and seeing the newest additions to the family was sure to lift your spirits.

Muriel carefully cradles the chicks in his hands, speaking softly to them about how nice you are and how happy you're going to be to see them as he shoulders the door open. As soon as the heavy wood gives way and creaks inward, Muriel is greeted by Inanna shoving her face against his arm, jostling him so hard he almost drops the chicks.

"Inanna..!" He quickly raises his hands away from the wolf, sheltering the chicks against his chest. Inanna wasn't the type to jump on anyone, least of all him, without reason. Instantly Muriel begins to worry. He didn't hear you say hello when he opened the door, and the fire in the fireplace sounds like it's gone out since he started it earlier that morning.

Inanna snuffs against Muriel's arm, a low whine rumbling in her throat, then steps away and trots over to your bedside. Muriel's shoulders drop when he turns to see you. Your face is drenched in sweat, tears leaking from beneath your eyelids and hands clutching at the fur blanket so tightly you could pull the fur out. Your chest heaves with each shallow breath, the occasional groan of pain a dry creak that barely makes its way past your lips.

Quickly Muriel follows Inanna to you, still holding the chicks in his hands. He frantically looks around for where he can put them before settling on putting them in a hand-carved wooden bowl on the shelf above you. Once they're all in he sits beside you, carefully sliding one arm under your neck and lifting you up to lean against him. Your face is burning hot against his chest and hands, but he doesn't let you go. Inanna leaps up onto the mattress and lays across your legs and hips, putting as much weight as she can manage on you to try to steady your breathing.

"MC?" Muriel asks softly against your head. He carefully brushes your hair out of your face and wipes the sweat off your forehead with his calloused fingers. "Hey, MC, wake up." His voice begins to shake.

You stir against him and Inanna, a dry rasp the only thing that escapes you. "Stay there, Inanna," Muriel sets you back down against the pillows. You could talk just fine when he left for the chickens earlier. Had you been yelling for him? Or were you just dehydrated from a flare up? Muriel couldn't decide which was worse while he hurriedly checks his shelves beside the fireplace for the medicine he's been making for the past month or so. In his search, a few pieces of earthenware get jostled from their spot, with one bowl sliding all the way off the shelf and crashing to the floor, shattering on impact. The hermit curses under his breath before kicking the fragments away. He can clean it up later.

Finally, hidden behind several other jars of herbs and home-made salves, Muriel finds the little jar of cooling salve sitting pristinely at the back of the shelf. He snatches it quickly and in just two strides he's back by you and Inanna.

The wolf is laying entirely over your legs, her head resting on your stomach now to try to spread out the weight. Her yellow eyes are focused on your face and nothing else, and she hardly acknowledges Muriel outside of a slight wag of her bushy tail.

Muriel carefully opens the glass jar, immediately getting hit with the strong smell of peppermint and ginger. Inanna huffs from her spot on top of you but doesn't move. "I know, Inanna, but it should help." Normally he would've gotten some kind of tool to help apply the thick salve in the jar, but he wasted enough time already trying to find the thing. He knows you probably can't hear him, but he still gives you a small warning before applying the medicine to your cheeks and forehead.

You flinch away from Muriel's touch at first, but it doesn't stop his effort. He just waits until you settle again before trying again, going as long as you'll let him before turning away again. It feels like it takes hours before he's finished spreading the salve across your skin.

Muriel sits on the floor beside you, setting the salve aside and resting his chin on the mattress by your shoulder. Inanna shifts her weight slightly, occasionally wagging her tail or huffing to keep herself awake and aware. At the very least the medicine seems to keep your fever down, as you aren't sweating as much.

For a while the three of you stay in place, totally silent until a soft peeping from the shelf above you reminds Muriel of the chicks he brought specifically for you to see. With a grumble Muriel stands upright and reaches for the bowl he put the chicks in, taking care as he leans over you and Inanna. Only one of the three chicks is awake with the other two curled up close at the bottom of the bowl. "I suppose you three want to go back to Mama, don't you?"

"I'll be right back, MC," he touches your shoulder shyly before stepping back outside, carrying the chicks carefully in his arms. Muriel's head is clouded with thought as he makes his way to the neighbors' nest. He knows the path so well he can navigate the uneven terrain perfectly while he thinks of you back at the hut, throat strained and hands tight with pain. Inanna is with you, yes, and he trusts her with everything, but he still worries that something might happen more while he's out.

This will be the last time he leaves the hut for a while, he decides. There's plenty of food in storage and anything else he needs he can get on the way back from delivering the chicks. Speaking of, he pushes through the underbrush of the forest and arrives just before sundown to the chickens' little haven in the wood. He kneels near one of the nests, gently rubbing the chicks' backs before laying his hands flat on the ground and letting them back to their mother. The experienced hen barely lifts herself to let them squirm under her feathers to join their siblings, clucking softly as the last one manages to squeeze in.

"See you," Muriel nods before rising back to his feet and turning back towards his home. Occasionally he stops to gather a few herbs and wild vegetables, but in he end he only returns with maybe a handful of vegetation total.

He pushes through the door once more, this time it opens much easier. Inanna's ears perk up in acknowledgement as Muriel arrives, but she otherwise remains still, her eyes still fixed squarely on your face. At least your breathing has seemed to steady while he was out.

Muriel set all the herbs away in the sacks he keeps in the corner for food and finally gathers up the shattered pieces of clay from earlier and sets them carefully on his workbench. The container should be easy enough to fix, and it's not like he has plans to go anywhere else for a while. It'd be a nice project to work on while you all wait for the flare up to subside.

After everything is set in its place, Muriel just sort of stands in the middle of the hut, shifting his gaze between you and Inanna. Inanna just stares back at him occasionally, her mouth settled squarely in an almost puppy-like begging face as she looks between her two humans.

Minutes of silence pass and are only interrupted when Muriel's stomach growls with the ferocity of a caged tiger. It would be amusing if it wasn't suddenly so uncomfortable. He should probably make some food... Maybe the smell will help ease whatever is on your mind as you rest. The hermit turns back to the fireplace, re-lighting the wood that's already there and adding more kindling to it. The pot hanging over the new fire is empty, ready for a whole new stew from last time.

Inanna likes lamb the most out of all the meet Muriel has already, and he had some carrots and potatoes, so that's the obvious choice. Also probably the easiest. Alright, that'll be what's for dinner.

It's quiet as Muriel prepares everything. Inanna doesn't huff or whine while everything is cut and seasoned, having fallen asleep by the time Muriel made his decision for dinner. The only sound in the entire hut is Inanna's occasional snore, you turning against her weight, and the stew bubbling once Muriel has it over the fire.

As the thick soup cooks, Muriel sits back down beside you, this time pulling the chair from his worktable over so he's not just sitting on the floor. He gently rubs Inanna's head, waking her up from her heavy slumber. Her ears perk up and she looks sideways at her companion, a concerned whine squeaking past her jaws. "I know, Inanna," Muriel sighs, smoothing her coarse dark fur. "They'll be alright. I think you're helping a lot."

Her tail wags softly with a half-hearted pride and fixes her eyes back on you. Your breathing has steadied and your sweat seemed to have lightened up. Muriel quietly thanked Asra for his help with making the salve.

"Do you want some stew?" Muriel asks no one in particular once he smells the spices in the pot. Inanna carefully lifts her head, tilting it in interest when Muriel gets up and shuffles over to the fire. As he readies three bowls for serving, his mind starts to wander. You had been quiet since he gave you the medicine and Inanna got settled on top of you. One side of his brain was calmly reassuring him, drawing the conclusion that whatever was upsetting you earlier had past, and now you were just getting some well deserved rest. The other side, however, was starting to settle into full panic mode. What if he somehow made it worse with that medicine? Was the smell too much for you? Is Inanna too heavy? Did you call for him while he was gone and he wasn't there to comfort you? Were you ever going to wake up?

Muriel freezes in place by the fire, just staring into the flames while he tried to make sense of his thoughts. He didn't even realize how much it was hurting his eyes until he felt Inanna press her cold nose into his hand, shaking him free. "Thanks, Inanna," he breathes, setting the half-full bowl of stew in his hands on the floor for his friend. "I'll watch MC for now." She licks his hand once before turning to her dinner, immediately going for the biggest chunk of lamb.

He's barely made two steps towards you before you toss in your sleep, taking the first deep breath of consciousness. "Muriel...?"

"'M right here." He sounds a little more frantic than he means to as he slides across the dirt floor to be right by your side. Inanna disregards her food entirely and trots over beside Muriel, shoving her cold nose right against your cheek and huffing affectionately.

"Oh--" you groan, gently pushing Inanna out of your personal space, "Hello to you, too, Inanna." You push against the mattress and sit upright, Inanna and Muriel watching you closely the entire motion. "What happened?"

Muriel's breath hitches. "I... I don't know. I wasn't here." His heart lodges in his throat and he tries to fight back a few tears, "I wasn't here but I should have been. I gave you some medicine and Inanna watched you for a while but I don't... I don't know what happened."

Your eyes widen with surprise, maybe a little guilt, too. You don't remember much from past this morning when Muriel went to check traps and visit the chickens. The only thing you can piece together from then and now is the weight of what must have been Inanna on your chest and a cool feeling on your face and neck. That was probably the medicine Muriel was talking about.

"Hey, it's alright." You rest your hand over Muriel's. A few tears run down his scared face and onto your knuckles when he takes your hand in his and squeezes. "I'm glad you were here when I woke up."

"M-Me, too." He breathes, more tears welling up in his eyes.

You both sit in heavy silence for a moment before Inanna takes it upon herself to break it. She puts her front paws on the chair Muriel is sitting in and licks the side of his face, wiping away tears but leaving some wolf slobber behind in the process.

"Aw, Inanna," you laugh, letting go of Muriel's hands so he can wipe the thick spit off of his face.

The wolf barks once, unashamed of her actions, before turning tail and walking back to her bowl of stew. Once Muriel is finished cleaning himself off, a tight chuckle escapes him. "I don't suppose you're hungry after that big nap."

"Are you kidding? I'm starving."

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saibug1022 · 1 year

Text

The Morning After

Word Count: 2.5k

Abel Flint x Castor Athantis (gn ILW MC)

A/N: So. That Chapter 14 Abel scene. We were robbed of the next, morning. So, I wrote it. It was originally supposed to be all fluff then I had the thought of Castor having one of the nightmares that night and it all spiraled downhill. Also, for context, I took two of my MCs and made them twins, Castor is this one and their twin is Julian.

When Castor opened their eyes, at first it seemed they were floating in some sort of black void. There was no light, no ground, nothing as far as they could see or feel or hear.

"Hello?" Castor called out, only minutely relieved to hear their own voice.

Castor.

"You again?" Castor looked around. "What do you want now?"

I want out!

"Out of where?" Castor asked for the millionth time. All they'd managed to understand was that this person was trapped somewhere and in obvious pain. They were scared, Castor could tell that much. But they still wouldn't tell Cas where they were or who they were or anything!

I'll show you.

There was a glint of something in the distance, something metallic. Castor squinted to try and make out what it was but it was moving too fast. It streaked toward them in the darkness and Cas's eyes widened. They tried to move, tried to cry out, but they couldn't do anything as the strange bronze object cut through the air and stabbed Castor in the heart.

"Hnnnnn," Castor whined. It was the only noise they could make as their world exploded in pain. It wasn't just the wound. It felt like they were falling apart. The life was draining out of them as if their soul was being forcefully yanked from their body. No. Not their soul. It was the Power. The Power itself was being drained from them, burning them from the inside out.

They looked down, vision swimming, and tried to identify the object they'd been impaled with. It was a spike, long and lovingly carved with a rope tied to the end. But the thing that really caught Castor’s attention was the glowing blue rune set into the metal. They wrapped their hand around the spike and went to pull it out before they heard the voice of their brother in their head, some memory from when Amalia got stabbed and Jules told Cas not to pull the knife out because it was containing the bleeding. But this thing wasn't stopping Castor's bleeding. In fact, despite being able to feel their own blood choking them as it filled their lungs, they didn't seem to be bleeding at all.

Before they could decide what to do the spike moved forward. But not further into Cas, instead it seemed to shove them until they were "laying" on their back. Then it started moving, dragging Castor with it.

It moved fast, faster than Cas should be able to survive moving. It wasn't even moving really. It was falling. They were falling. They were falling through an endless darkness. It didn't matter if they survived the spike. They were dead the moment they hit the bottom.

If there was a bottom.

Castor couldn't even scream. The spike in their chest kept them from getting the air they need. The most they could make was choked-off noises of pain and fear as their hair whipped around their face. They couldn't scream, they couldn't move, they couldn't do anything. They had to just wait. Wait in terror to die.

Alone.

There was no warning. One moment they were falling, the next they'd slammed into the ground with several sickening snaps. A gasp was forced from them. They couldn't even feel the pain over the burning. They opened their eyes and…light! There was light! It was faint, so faint it didn't light up the area around them. But it was there. It also seemed distorted, kind of like it was filtering through water.

The second Castor had that thought it was like the water had become real. Thousands of gallons of water tried to force themselves into their lungs. The air and blood were forced out and Castor found themself choking, trying so so desperately to just breathe. They didn't want to die, not down here. Not alone where no one would ever find them.

They fumbled for the spike to try and pull it out but it was stuck fast, anchoring them to the ground beneath them no matter how they struggled. This couldn't be the end. No. Not like this, not when they finally found somewhere. They finally found a place that felt like home for the first time in five horrible long years and they couldn't lose that.

And Julian. Oh God, Julian. The two of them had lost everything. Julian, he couldn't lose Castor too. Cas wasn't sure he'd survive it. They had to get out, they had to live but they COULDN'T FUCKING BREATHE!

"Cas?"

Castor was sure they were crying as they pulled desperately on the spike but the tears blended with the water drowning them and their sobs couldn't escape their suffocating body. They just kept struggling for what had to have been minutes yet they were still just burning, drowning, dying, but never quite crossing that threshold. They couldn't even die.

"Castor?!"

Was this really it? This couldn't be how their journey ended. They couldn't even DIE?! They were cursed to spend forever drowning, suffocating, breaking, dying, over and over and over forever until eventually, they did die. But they didn't want to die. They didn't want to die they didn't want to die THEY DIDNT WANT TO DIE-

"CASTOR!"

"GAH!" Castor cried out, body jolting upright as their hands scrambled at the bedsheets.

"Hey, Cas, it's okay!" A familiar voice assured them as large hands gripped their shoulders. "Breathe, baby, you're okay."

Cas forced themself to inhale, slowly, shakily, then exhale. Their eyes squeezed shut as they kept forcing those breaths in and out like they'd forgotten how to breathe.

"That's it," The voice muttered and they felt one of the hands move to cup their cheek and they leaned into the warmth without even thinking about it. "Just breathe. You're okay, I've got you."

After a few more breaths Castor finally opened their eyes to find the kind features of Abel Flint, his face set with worry. They were in a room that it took Castor a moment to recognize considering it wasn't theirs, it was Abel's. They were in Abel's room, they'd stayed over the night before.

And they just woke him up screaming.

Shit.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Castor muttered, gaze dropping to Abel's shoulder instead of meeting his eyes. Abel's thumb brushed their skin, brushing away their tears. They hadn't even realized they'd been crying.

"Sorry? What are you sorry for?" Abel asked, so genuinely confused it made a smile flicker onto Castor's face for just a second.

"Whatever the hell that was," Cas sighed and used their own hand to wipe away the rest of the tears roughly.

"Was it one of the nightmares?" Abel asked gently. "With the voice?"

Castor just nodded.

"Cas you don't have anything to apologize for," Abel assured them. "I'll admit, I was worried when I woke up and I was definitely scared when you wouldn't, but none of that is your fault. It's whoever has been torturing you for the last three weeks."

"I know but I shouldn't have stayed over knowing that could happen," Castor argued and Abel used his hand on Castor's face to force them to look at him.

"Castor you do not have to deal with this alone," Abel insisted. Castor opened their mouth to protest further but Abel shook his head. "No. You don't have to go through this on your own. I know, Julian is having the same dreams, but when was the last time you talked about these dreams outside of just summarizing them for information?"

Castor's silence was all the answer Abel needed.

"Exactly," Abel nodded. "You're the one talking about how you want me to let you take care of me, right? Well, that goes both ways. Let me take care of you.”

Castor wanted to argue. The only people they’d let take care of them in five years were Julian and Amalia and even then it was iffy. They’d been in other relationships in that time and while they were fun and Cas cared about those people whenever it got to this moment right here, where Castor needed to open up and admit how fucked up they were and that they needed help, that was the moment Castor ran. They just couldn’t get themself to make that last big leap. Because being vulnerable like that meant letting that person into their life fully, including the dark, the scary, and the violent parts of it. Which meant someone else they could lose.

But none of those relationships were like this one. Not only was Abel already a part of all of this but he was just…different. Abel understood them, better than anyone else. He was so sweet and so kind and so strong and he cared. He cared so much and so strongly that Castor couldn’t stop him if they wanted to because that care was what kept them smiling and their eyes shining and their heart beating. Castor just felt…safe. They felt safe. They felt safe with Abel. Enough that they let their shoulders drop and their eyes close and their cheek lean into Abel’s palm.

“Okay,” Castor finally said, voice hardly even a whisper. The grin Abel gave them could have rivaled the sun. He leaned over to press a gentle kiss to their forehead.

Abel wrapped his arms around their waist and carefully shifted the both of them until they were laying down again, Castor’s head once again pillowed on Abel’s chest right over his heart. They took a deep breath as they focused on the steady thump of Abel’s heart, reminding them they weren’t alone. They wrapped an arm around him and went to curl in further only to hiss in pain as their legs moved. They were sore, really sore, and it took them a second to remember why. Once they did, well, they had to hide a flustered grin against Abel’s chest.

“What is it? Are you okay?” Abel checked, concern creeping into his voice.

“Mhmm,” Castor hummed. “I’m just, uh, sore.”

“Oh yeah?” Castor could hear Abel’s smirk and they groaned as they reached up to try and cover his mouth, but all they got was the sound of his laughter as he caught their hand. “I don’t see how that’s a problem, I’m pretty proud of myself for it actually.”

“Oh my God I hate you,” Castor groaned again. Abel made a dramatic gasp and pressed his hand to his heart as if Castor’s comment had deeply wounded him. “I’m so sorry.”

“You should be,” Abel gave a fake sniffle and Castor found themself actually laughing as they surfaced from Abel’s skin. They folded their arms on his chest and set their chin on their arms so they could look up at Abel with a small smile. “There it is.”

“What?”

Abel grinned as he brushed the hair from Castor’s face. “Your smile.”

Castor felt their face heat and they immediately hid in their arms again.

“You’re adorable,” Abel commented.

“And you’re the worst,” Castor replied.

“But I’m your worst.”

“That didn’t even make sense!”

“It totally did.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“But I’m your dork.”

“There you go, look at that. Are you happy now?”

“Very,” Abel nodded, grinning like a fool.

“You know, I believe I was promised pancakes,” Castor remembered.

“You absolutely were,” Abel confirmed. And because he was so loving and so caring he tossed Castor onto the bed so he could get up, ignoring their startled shriek.

“You asshole!” Castor laughed and Abel just stuck his tongue out at them as he opened his dresser. He pulled out a t-shirt which triggered a thought in Castor that made them grimace. Not pout. Totally not pout. “Ugh, I don’t wanna put my jeans on.”

“If you want to borrow my clothes you could just ask,” Abel smirked at them over his shoulder and Castor stuck their tongue out at him because they were a very mature pair.

“I think I’d drown in your clothes you titan,” Castor teased and Abel just shrugged and pulled on the t-shirt he’d grabbed.

“All I’m hearing is more reasons for you to borrow my clothes,” Abel held out a dark green t-shirt, a pair of soft and black pajama pants, and a pair of boxers. Cas glared at him for a second but sighed as they took the clothes, biting back a delighted giggle because they were committed now.

Abel pulled on his own pajama pants and Cas got out of bed, wincing a little at the soreness in their legs. But they managed to pull on the clothes Abel had given them and resisted the urge to smell the shirt, knowing it would smell like him. They looked up to see Abel beaming at them and they grabbed him by the shirt to pull him in for a kiss. Abel hummed happily against their lips and his hands held their waist only to use that to scoop them up and carry them out to the living room bridal style. Castor couldn’t help laughing as they were plopped onto the couch and got one more kiss before Abel headed for the kitchen.

Castor turned on the couch and folded their arms on the back of it, head laying on their arms as they watched Abel hum to himself and start going through his kitchen. The sun was just starting to come through the blinds, turning his brown eyes amber whenever he turned towards the golden light. Castor felt a smile tug at their lips but it was different from the grins and smirks from earlier. It was smaller but it was soft, it was so happy and content. After all, Castor was happy and content. For once, they were just…relaxed. They felt safe. They felt loved.

They loved Abel Flint.

Cas already knew this deep down, but thinking the words still brought them a new kind of joy. They’d always wanted a long-term relationship, to really build a life with somebody. But whenever they tried they just…couldn’t. They could never get themself to pull out of their monster-hunting lifestyle long enough to really grow roots anywhere and they refused to let anyone else fall into that kind of life. They could never really see a future for themself outside of monsters and the Power.

But with Abel? They could see it. They could see him making breakfast in the morning, teaching them how to cook because, in all honesty, they were hopeless at it. They could see waking up with him every morning and watching the sun turn his skin gold only to fall asleep in each other’s arms every night. They could see themself meeting his siblings, stealing kisses when they both have a free moment between classes, dancing in the living room, and getting into a water fight doing the dishes. They could even see moving in with him maybe, rings on their fingers, maybe even a kid of their own one day.

Because god damn it Castor loved Abel Flint.

And Abel Flint made them love themself too.

#it lives within #it lives #ilw #it lives within fic #it lives fic #ilw fic #ilw spoilers #it lives within spoilers #ilw mc #abel flint #abel flint x mc #gn mc

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thenightcallsme · 7 months

Text

The Arcana: Julian's Route | Chapter 4

!! THIS STORY IS A DETAILED RETELLING OF THE ARCANA, INCLUDING PAID SCENES IN BOTH PROLOGUE AND JULIAN ROUTE. ALL CHARACTERS EXCEPT THE MC ARE PROPERTY OF THE ARCANA FRANCHISE !!

A/N: This is a reupload from my AO3 cause I want to branch out. Enjoy!!

Summary: In a small shop in Vesuvia lives Vivian Caelum, a student of the magical arts who works as a shopkeeper for her tutor, Asra Alnazar. Her name is not known in the streets as her master's is, nor does she have full control over her magic yet. But one night, there's a knock at her door; Vivian is needed at the palace to help Countess Nadia upon her personal wishes. Soon, what she thinks is a small task is something she would never have expected her magic to be used for: Vivian must find Count Lucio's murderer. Will she be able to track down the infamous murderer and finally put the Countess's years of restlessness to ease? Or will the killer captivate her in ways she can't explain? Is she even running after the right man? Something deeper than she thought is happening within her beloved city, and she's about to understand the vastness of the magical realms.

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Fem!Magician Reader

This Chapter Contains: N/A

Word Count: 6,415

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

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The path of black stones is back, cold and soft beneath my bare feet. My hair, still in a braid, is whipped around by wind that upsets the rust-coloured sand. The wind is chilly against my skin; all I wear is a silk slip. The thick, dark clouds made of shifting blue and purple hues are heavier than before, pregnant with unreleased rain. If I'm dreaming about this place again, where is Asra?

Unforgiving wind burns my eyes as I search the desolate landscape for him. Sure enough, I find him. Asra is still with the lumbering beast heading towards the horizon. He is too far to reach.

I watch as Asra reaches the fork in the paths and dismounts the beast. He pats the white beast firmly on its hide, sending it down the east path. But Asra doesn't follow. Instead, he walks west, and I know at once he's going the wrong way.

"Not that way!" I suddenly blurt out. "Not again!"

Again?

Despite the words coming from my own mouth, I don't know what I mean. Even though I remember him warning me about the wrong path, I almost wonder if he's chosen it deliberately. He turns, hearing the faint sound of my voice, even from the uncrossable distance. Though I can't see the fine details of his face, I feel our eyes meet.

"Viv?"

His voice is nothing but a whisper carried by the wind, unsure as to how I can hear him. I don't bother to question the rules of this little world I've found myself dreaming about. He drops his gaze and continues west, his silhouette quickly fading.

"Asra!" I cry, "You told me not to take the wrong path, so I'm telling you the same!"

I go to take a step forward, but my feet are heavy and suddenly hot. The sand begins to flood over the stone path, trapping my feet. Then my knees. Soon enough, it has reached my hips.

I grow angry, calling out his name again. "Asra! Please, listen to my warning!"

The sand has swallowed my torso, my chest. I know I'm still calling my friend's name, even as the sand fills my nose and mouth, filling my lungs. And I know he can still hear me.

⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Comfortably warm sunlight strokes my cheeks in a motherly caress. Rise, it tells me. With a groan, I head her words. The course, exfoliant sand no longer rakes at my skin. It’s instead replaces my the soft feel of luxurious linens. Silk pillowcases cushion my face. Through an open window is the early song of birds residing in the palace gardens. Accompanying it is an enticing smell of freshly cut fruits coming from inside the room.

“Morning, Vivian.”

At the edge of my bed stands the cheery, red-headed maid Portia. Her neat appearance at such an early hour is envious. Balanced on her forearm is a platter of breakfast pastries, each topped with strawberries and plums. Nestled in the middle is a steaming tea pot and an empty cup. Gently, she sets the tray at my side. I smile lazily in thanks.

“Morning.”

She claps her hands together as I sit up. "Beautiful sunrise, isn't it? Did you sleep well?"

I nod despite the extra few hours of rest I wish for and take a bite of the plum pastry. Rich flavours fill my mouth. "This bed is so much nicer than my own."

"The countess wants to meet you in the library once you've eaten and dressed." Cradled in her other arm is a pile of fabrics. "And she also wanted to gift you a few things."

My eyes pause on the pile of clothes. "Gift me? As in to…keep?"

"Of course, silly. She suggested them herself. She has a great eye for someone's preferences."

"I...thank you."

"Don't thank me. You can thank m'lady when you see her." She approaches the door. "I'll be waiting in the hall. Come out whenever you're ready."

With a soft click of the door, she's gone, leaving me to marvel at the pile of clothes and the extraordinary breakfast. Cramming the last pastry into my mouth and pouring a cup of tea, I stand and spread out the array of clothes. Generously, the countess has offered multiple options. Atop the pile is a small wooden box I have yet to open. Neatly placed beside the nightstand are a few pairs of shoes.

My heart flutters in bewilderment. I lay each piece out to carefully examine them, more blown away than the last. Drawing me in is a pair of light grey pants that, when I slip on, appear to be tailored to my size by some miracle. With it I pair a dark blue top that I wrap around my waist to tie in a small bow. The sleeves are long and draping with a slit down the middle. Around my waist I fasten a thick leather. The silver clasp is so intricately designed and complicated that it takes me a minute to figure out. Lastly, I pull on some leather boots.

After neatly stacking the remaining clothes, all that’s left is the small wooden box. What’s inside nearly sends me into cardiac arrest. It’s pack full of silver jewellery so perfectly pale it must be white gold. Tucked between folds of silk are enough rings to wear two per finger. Some are dainty and unassuming, while the others are chunky, gorgeous gems nestling in the metal. In another section are multiple pairs of earrings, enough to replace all nine piercings per ear. In the third section are bracelets and necklaces, some plain silver, some hosting huge jewels. My God.

I blindly pull out one of the necklaces. It’s a silver choker, the centrepiece a thin piece of metal shaped into a moth in flight. I don’t hesitate to put it on. Then another. And then another. Quickly, I’m covered in blinding amounts of jewellery.

For the first time ever, I look expensive. There’s a noticeable theme of silvers, blues and greens within the clothes and accessories. I smile. The countess sure has an eye for the smallest things. I’ve even been gifted another satchel to replace my sorry excuse for one.

Portia looks over as she hears the sound of the door and her eyes widen as she takes me in. She whistles in approval.

"Beautiful!"

I blush. "I—thanks. I'm not used to nice things."

"I suggest getting used to them because, from now on, those are yours." She begins leading me down the hall. I follow, enjoying the comfortable feel of the new heels. "The countess will definitely be pleased.”

Through the weaving palace halls we go. I’m led through hidden shortcuts beyond the stone walls, turned this way and that. It would be hopeless to find my way out alone. Eventually Portia stops us before an art piece about five times the size of me. Carved into smooth wood in all the colours of rippling honey is a dizzyingly intricate tree at the height of its maturity. It stands tall and proud, depicted to be swaying in a soft breeze. The detail is so carefully thought of that I can almost hear life buzzing around it. The tree's leaves and fruit are inlaid with jewels, precious stones, and shimmering pearls.

Portia notes my amazed gaze. "It's m'lady's own work. Beautiful, isn't it?"

“She carved this?” I stare back at the tree in awe. “Does she dabble in art?"

"Only when she can find a moment to herself," she answers. "This is one of her proudest works."

Portia retrieves a ring of keys from her pocket. There are about a dozen on the silver ring, each carved of the same wood as the panel, and each bearing a unique jewel. One by one, she finds the locks in the panel. As each key turns, the roots of the tree start to unwind from each other, pulling free from the floor. When all the locks have been turned, the panel folds upon itself, retracting from either side like a fan.

I watch in further amazement. The tree isn’t just a magnificent art piece, but the door to the palace library.

The first thing I see are the books—the towering shelves of books. They wind up the walls, reaching the ceiling, which is impossibly high. The room is naturally lit by an arching, stained glass window depicting a peacock strolling through a garden of white roses and lavender. Rainbow light paints the wooden floors. Growing around the window and up the bookshelves are lush vines of ivy. Surrounding the bottom of the window, where a fireplace sits, is an arrangement of red armchairs.

"Ah, Vivian!" sings the countess. “Come here, let me look at you!”

Nadia emerges from an aisle of shelves, looking radiant herself. She's wearing a simple, white dress that ends above her knees, showing her long, sleek legs. A green shawl covered in yellow flowers falls off her straight shoulders and is tied at her waist. It falls to the floor, dragging behind her. Today she doesn't wear heavy jewellery. I don't know why I think to look, but...she wears no wedding band. If my husband died, would I still wear mine in memory? Or would I have gotten rid of it?

Curious, the countess circles me once, her gaze thoughtful. Not in scrutiny, but in wonder. She stops before me with a proud smile. “Gosh, I’m a genius. You look amazing.”

“All thanks to you,” I gush, looking down at myself. “This is all so beautiful. It almost feels wrong to accept this.”

She gives me a dismissive wave in faked offence. “Nonsense. You will accept it if it means I must order you to.”

“The jewels…”

“From my own collection,” she adds.

I shake my head. “I can’t—they must be worth a fortune.”

“Even if I were to accept the return, what would I do with them?” She questions. “Silver is not for me. All have been gifts from thoughtless, simple men who think they now the desires of women. What better than to go to someone who will find use in them?”

I open and close my mouth in search of a rebuttal, but nothing comes. I’m astounded to even be in search of one—not any commoner can playfully argue with the Countess of Vesuvia. I would expect myself to, either, but her aura is so familiar that it practically coaxes the words out of me.

“Thank you, my lady,” I finally say. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You can thank me by finding that doctor." She smiles and gestures to the books. “Now, do you read?"

I nod. "My life would not be worth living if I couldn't read, countess."

"A woman after my own heart it seems." Her smile broadens, and I hope she can't see the thrill her flattery causes. Portia was right: talking to the countess isn't so frightful. "It's a great gift, to read. Where I come from, the love for it is shared amongst all citizens, but woefully uncommon here. Now this way, if you please."

She leads me deeper into the shelves, where the sunlight can't reach. Here, lanterns light the way. I hear Portia follow along by the soft jingle of keys. My fingers itch to drift across the spines of old books as we pass.

After a moment, the countess says, "Vivian, you are my guest. If you wish to ever return here, you need only ask. But for the moment…” She stops before an alcove, nestled between the shelves. “…I would have your undivided attention here."

A roomy desk stands beneath the rays escaping a small window. Books, journals, papers, and scrolls cover every inch of the table. Despite the clutter, everything is neatly organised. Someone's place of study, preserved in time, it seems. Swirling handwriting is scribbled on the papers. It is so small and rushed that I can't make out any words.

"This was Doctor Devorak's desk. He was employed at the palace, as was your Master Asra for a short while.” Asra? I don't recall him saying he worked here… “We called upon them to concoct a cure for the plague.”

Of course. Three years ago, the Red Plague swept through the city like wildfire. Untamed, cruel, relentless. It claimed young and old, frail and strong. There was no way to tell who would succumb. Cases are rare, now. I can't even recall the last time I saw the telltale red in the whites of someone's eye. The carnage was immense, and even now the city still recovers.

"Physicians, scientists, alchemists, fortune tellers, magicians..." Her eyes flash with the memory. It's quick but leaves a spark of sadness. "All were invited, in hopes that our resources may aid in the research. Perhaps he was plotting even then...but the doctor accepted the invitation. As did your master, Asra.”

Now there's anger in her ruby-like eyes. Her gaze shifts to the small window above the desk. It overlooks a large willow tree, which hangs above a fountain in the garden below. A gentle breeze tussles the full branches.

She continues. "I've had everything found on and within the desk examined laboriously. Nothing of consequence has been found. But perhaps you can make better use of it. Do as you wish—read through the papers, try to understand Doctor Devorak if you must. Anything. It is the best lead I can offer you."

"Thank you, my lady. I will use this information as best as possible."

"As I expect you would." The countess draws away. The air in her wake is stirred with the scent of jasmine. “The search for Doctor Devorak is now in your hands. You may proceed as you see fit. And please," her expression turns grave, "bring Vesuvia peace. Bring that criminal justice."

I nod again. "Yes, my lady. May I ask if I have to be anywhere else to meet you today?"

"I ask only that you meet with me for dinner this evening.” With a serene smile she sweeps out of the room. Portia follows closely in her wake, and I am left alone with the doctor's desk

There is a stack of leather-bound books with silk page markers hanging from between the pages. Folios, scrolls, and stray pieces of paper etched with illustrations and writings nestle in the little row of draws and scatter the table surface.

Browned with age and crinkled, the folio papers catch my attention first. There's a meticulous drawing at the top of the first page. Its neat lines contrast sharply with the doctors small, messy writing. Somehow, the patterns and shapes look strangely familiar. But nothing solid comes to mind.

The hairs on my arms stand on end as I gently trace one. My eyes drift shut as I do so. I should feel something… somewhere…

There; an echo of desperation and single-minded purpose is worn into his sketches. It's a faint trace, but it still gives me a tangible sense of what the doctor was feeling when he made those drawings. Carefully, I tuck the page into my bag. This fragile piece of paper was something important to him. Why, I’m not sure, but the connection still persists, tying the two together. A surge of excitement and apprehension rushes through me.

I can use this. With the scroll and my magic to assist me...I may be able to find him. If I'm quick, I can still meet back with the countess for dinner.

Tracking spells are not too reliable, still needing a professional hand in strengthening their mechanics. But with the feel of the doctor so strong on that piece of paper, I'm sure to find him. So, making my way out of the library, I begin.

Hazy golden light paints the rooftops of crumbling, stacked buildings that line the streets like towering walls. The sun continues its slow ascent as I step foot outside the Palace walls. Light fades from the streets and alleyways as it reaches for the horizon, disappearing behind the tall, depleted buildings of Southend.

Magic weaves the doctor’s lingering feelings of desperation into an endless string—one end tied around my index finger, the other halfway across the city, attached to the doctor. That invisible string tugs and pushes me around corners and across canals. It leads me through allies and down busy streets and down secret passages that I know all too well. After every block of stacked houses and bustling shops I pass, the tug grows stronger.

Asra taught me this spell well, but I know it off by heart only in theory. When I first learnt it, Asra would give me a belonging of his and then hide somewhere in the house, leaving me to locate him with the spell. Start with your breath, follow with your heart, and be present. The rest will be as easy as blinking if you connect with the spell. I remember his words as if they were his parting goodbye from yesterday.

Close contact is easy enough. It requires little focus and little effort. Asra told me that it takes trained magicians years to control tracking spells, being able to hold that string like the reins of a horse. However, tracking the Doctor now feels exactly the same as finding Asra around the house. I can't tell if his words were just tall tales to warn me about the hardship of magic but motivate me all the same...or if there's something off with my magic. It feels too easy, as if I've done this tenfold—when in reality, this is probably my fifth time.

I've ended up in a narrow, slippery cobble Southend street, its shabby stones layered like scales. The street is separated by a rushing river sourced by a waterfall ahead. The water gushes from one of the gigantic aqueducts around town. While it towers over the buildings, it's nothing in comparison to the primary aqueducts running from Vesuvia's walls that feed the deep, stretching moat surrounding the city. The light mist it sprays tickles my face as I walk by. Most of this street is inns, bars, and cheap shops. The Southend is an interesting place, to put it politely.

Few people wander the street. They aim straight for the inns and bars, not bothering to wander around. Some are already stumbling, laughing and singing slurred tunes. The talk shared by patrons is drowned out by the rushing waterfall. I strain my ears, nervous that I may not hear something I need to.

Suddenly, the door to a tavern I'm about to walk past swings open. Light, commotion and the heavy smell of alcohol and smoke flood into the street as someone walks out. I jump to a stop and back away as a tall man with unkempt auburn hair and a wide grin walks out.

"Oh, I'll be right back. Just stepping out for some air."

I freeze mid-step, staring with wide eyes as I recognise the man.

My spell worked.

But I find a flaw in my plan; I didn't think of what I'd do when I found Julian Devorak. If anything, I had just hoped to observe him, to learn him.

Beside me is a narrow alleyway cutting between the tavern and a liquor shop. It's my only chance at staying unseen and coming up with an idea. I go to back away, but my heel catches between two jagged stones in the street. I let out an inelegant yelp as I tumble into a pile of empty barrels and cardboard boxes. The next thing I know, I'm staring up at the sky, limbs failing me.

Approaching footsteps catch my attention and my heartbeat quickens. He undoubtedly heard, drawn to the commotion. His deep voice sends my mind into a frantic frenzy as I see a gloved hand extend towards me.

"Hello, that was quite a tumble. Are you all right?" The doctor leans over the barrels, hand out in an offer, only to rear away when he sees my face. "The shopkeep? What are you doing here?"

I scowl. "Wouldn't you like to know."

He raises a brow. "I certainly would. Now come on. Upsy-daisy."

"Hey—"

Ignoring my resistance, he grabs my wrists in a firm grip and hauls me up from the barrels and boxes. I stagger to my feet and towards the doctor's broad chest, thrown off balance by how fast he pulls. For a moment, his eye meets mine, surprised and aware of our sudden closeness. Flustered, I tear my hands from his grip and push away.

The two of us stand behind a tavern, well hidden from the street and citizens. But we're also in a dead-end. The alley stops abruptly at a crumbling brick wall a few feet away, too tall to climb. I have nowhere to run; the doctor has me trapped. From here, I can barely see the painted sign of a cackling blackbird lying back on a crescent moon. The Rowdy Raven, it reads.

"Now tell me, shopkeep, what are you doing here? Southend is no place for a pretty face like yours," he purrs. While his words are teasing, I don’t miss the genuine question.

"The same as you, it seems. I came to get away for a bit, have fun," I reply, letting the lie flow freely. "I just wasn't expecting to see you here, is all. And now here I am."

He nods slowly, smirking. "Of course. Now...there are quite a few rumours that you have been working for the palace. I'm sure—well, by now or any time, really—that you've heard some interesting stories about me."

"Interesting is an understatement," I say slowly. "You don't belong here."

He rolls his good eye. "Yes, yes. I've heard it plenty. But has anybody asked for my side of the story? Now that is something I've never heard."

I go quiet, a little confused. He wants to talk? What else could there be other than the fact that he murdered the count, his employer, and fled from the sentence? At first, I doubt there's more, and yet my curiosity betrays me. No one has heard his side. Everything Vesuvia knows has come from the Palace, the posters, and the muddled rumours—some of which I know have been blown ridiculously out of proportion. Who’s to say something has been ignored?

"Humour me, Doctor Devorak," I say slowly. “What is your side of the story? What else was there that could possibly be riveting enough to put a new light on what you did."

He smiles. "Brilliant. Now if you could follow me, I'll tell you everything you want to know."

My stomach twists as I replay the short exchange in my head. I'm talking to a murderer. The infamous murderer of Count Lucio.

The doctor beckons me up the steps to the tavern and eases the door open for me. Warmth rushes over my skin and pours out the door as soon as I cross the threshold. Sundown has barely begun its approach, and yet the tavern is in full swing. I brush past bodies and tables as the doctor leads me through the tavern. The barkeep—a wide, scarred, unkind looking man—gives him a small salute. The acknowledgement is returned.

Humming to himself, the doctor finds a cozy booth in the back. "You make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."

He breezes past me and to the bar, leaving me to myself. I slide into the set, placing my bag by my side as I attempt to sit still, but I can't help look around uncertainly. Nearby, a pair of old crones are hunched over a table playing card game that attracts a squabbling crowd. A few people occupy a far corner playing a heated game of darts.

Up at the bar, the doctor chats with the barkeep. They both erupt into laughter at a joke I can’t quite hear. For a second, Doctor Devorak doesn't look like a cold-hearted killer. In fact, he doesn't look the part at all. He looks sly and cunning and a bit of a cheat...but not a murderer. He looks so perfectly at ease, so different from when I met him at my shop.

He turns, and I avert my eyes as he approaches the booth with our drinks. He places mine before me, occupying the opposite side of the booth as he takes a generous swig of his drink. I peer into the golden liquid in my cup. It smells faintly of fruit. Slowly, I take a sip. The drink is refreshing, barely sweet, and burns on the way down. While I’d never deny a free drink, the doctor better not hope to get me drunk.

"You know, I never got your name." He interlocks his hands on the table, giving me an expectant look.

"...Vivian. Vivian Caelum."

"Vivian. What a lovely name. And how lovely it is to see you again."

I hate that the simple remark makes my cheeks flush.

He extends his hand across the table to me, and though I hesitate, I still place mine in his leather grip. My hand is rather small in his. His smile broadens to a lopsided grin that, I have to admit, is quite attractive. I never thought about it before, but now that I'm sitting across from him, I can't deny that he is attractive. The sharp angles of his jaw, his hooked nose, his high cheekbones, his tall, lean frame and wild auburn hair. Everything about him is quite handsome. Even when he looks like he needs a weeks worth of sleep. What a shame such pretty looks are wasted on a criminal.

"Remember that I am here only to talk, Doctor Devorak," I warn him. "I am not here to get drunk with you. I have places to be."

He nods. "Of course. And please, just call me Julian. 'Doctor Devorak’ sounds…ridiculous.”

"Right. So, Julian, you hinted that there was something about your side of the story I should know.”

“Oh, I did, didn’t I? How carelessly.” A joke. He chuckles at my irritated expression.

The doctor, Julian, leans forward, folding his arms on the table. My heart races as I consider what I could learn. Maybe he isn't bluffing—maybe he really has something of importance he's kept to himself. How it could affect what he did, I don't know. But...I'm willing to listen. There's no use convicting a man on an incomplete story.

Sooner or later I will still have to take him in, I remind myself. Do not forget. I have to remind myself how to stand my ground a lot of the time. I tend to be too empathetic for my own good.

"All right, darling. Ask what you want and I will answer."

The ridiculous nickname agitates me, but I choose to ignore him. Get the information and leave. Though I'm a little stuck on what I should ask. Instead of wasting my time in thought, I pull out the paper from my bag and place it wordlessly on the table between us. Julian hesitates before taking and unfolding it. A flicker of recognition crosses his steely blue-grey eye, but it's not warmth or affection for his work. As he reads, his expression slowly hardens. The map-like, winding patterns draw me in again. I find myself leaning in closer, taking another look at his work. I only sit back when I feel his gaze on me.

"Where did you get these?" he breathes.

"It was on your desk, in the palace's library. The Countess said she didn't mind if I looked at it, and so…I took one."

He looks away, but not before I catch a flinch of pain on his face. "Oh. Well, this is a slice of a human brain. The patterns are unique to each individual."

"Individual?" I echo. I meet his gaze, and he stiffens with trepidation. "You mean you've seen many?"

Julian sets the piece down. "What did you expect? We started off with nothing when trying to find a cure, so of course, we had theories on where the disease thrived."

"What's it like, having to look at them?"

He shrugs. “Dissection gets easier over time, but it’s not a pretty sight at first. You've just got to remind yourself that they didn't die in vain if their body helps cure thousands."

The clear emotions in his face is troubling for all the wrong reasons. Julian, like everyone else, is human. He feels sadness and remorse and happiness just like the next person. Suddenly it feels so wrong to think about bringing him in to be hanged. Even though he broke into my shop like a madman...he seems like a decent person. And I hate myself for thinking so.

This is exactly the opposite of what I should be doing. Creating any connection, whether truely personal or just through sheer empathy, makes my job harder.

"There are other drawings, aren't there? At the palace?" he asks.

"All of them remain."

Julian purses his lips at that, drumming his fingers along his jaw in clear distress. Looking back to me, he says, "You should return it. The palace will notice that it has disappeared soon enough. Now if you could excuse me for a moment..."

As if unable to look at the papers anymore, he folds it up and slides it over to me. I take it, gently slipping it back into my bag. Julian whisks our steins away as I do so.

Shrill bickering erupts from the crone's table, interrupting conversations held around the tavern. Julian whispers to one of the women as he passes by, tapping a single card in her hand. The card is played, throwing the crowd into cheers. I cannot see, but guessing by the sly grin on the woman's face, she has won.

Julian is grinning when he returns. I watch him, lowering my brows in confusion as he passes through the crowd with friendly greetings and smiles. He wears no mask here, as he did in the market. Both are busy places, and here, everyone seems to know him. There has been no guards, no whisper of authority passing by. Does it not set him on edge?

"Are you not worried about being seen?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Here?" Julian laughs as if the answer is simple. "No, I'm not worried. Folks around here aren't known to oblige to the wants and needs of the Palace. Even the raven spends his time scouring for guards. Obsessively."

"The raven? What raven?"

Julian scans the smokey rafts as I process what he's said. Where Asra and I live, the guards are treated with reverence. And fear, in no small measure. Even though I know I pose no threat to them, I fall into an anxious silence whenever they pass by. The Palace guards are known to be violent. Unnecessarily so.

Personally, I've never experienced the unmerciful wrath of the iron-clad guards. But I've seen the bloody horrors from afar, making sure to turn a blind eye. Nobody dares stop them in fear of becoming next in line. Interrupting them is like swinging fresh meat in front of starving hounds.

Since Count Lucio's rein has fallen into the Countess's hands, she's been known to try stopping the guard's violence. Count Lucio couldn't have cared less. She's done a good job combing through Vesuvia's guards, but at the end of the day, it's not enough. There are those in their ranks that just...snap. And when they snap, they become almost inhumane. The horrors I've seen, especially in the slums—

Suddenly, a huge black raven bursts in through a dusty window overhead, flying in loops with bloody shrieks. The bird swoops down and along a string of bells stretching from one rafter to another, erupting the tavern into chaos. I watch it in awe and unease as the crowd responds to the raven's warning. ...The same raven from the marketplace.

"Guards! Palace guards!" The barkeep warns.

Patrons push and claw their way through every door and window, playing cards flying in the wind. Few stay, obviously those who have nothing held against them by the law. But even they back into the shadows, distancing themselves from each other and becoming anonymous.

Julian grabs me by the arm and pulls me from the booth and into him as people rush around us. “That. That is the raven."

"Wha— where are we going?"

"Anywhere the guards aren't. You wouldn't want to be caught with a convicted murderer, would you?"

But that's the whole point, I almost say aloud.

This is the moment. This is where I keep him behind for the guards to find and possibly turn this whole tavern against me. This is where I easily complete the task that Countess Nadia set for me and claim my reward. But I look to the main door, suddenly torn between staying and the option I shouldn't have. That reward I pictured so clearly in my head suddenly comes with another unwanted gift. Guilt.

I look to Julian. "I suggest you hurry."

Julian keeps his grip on my arm tight as he weaves us through the patrons and out a side door into an alley behind the tavern. When I step outside, the cold air is harsh and chilly against my skin, arising gooseflesh over my arms. The sun has begun to set, painting the rooftops in oranges and pinks and yellows that cast the streets below in oncoming shadows. Julian casts a frantic glance along the alleyway we stand in before ushering me into the shadows.

He grabs my shoulders, forcing my attention on him. "You can find your way, yes?"

I nod. "I've spent years living in these streets. I know every which way."

I'm surprised I can get the words out so firmly, taken aback and slightly flustered by how close his face is to mine. I can smell the faintest scent of sickly sweet alcohol in his breath. Julian, as tall as he is, has to lean down to level his face with mine. This close I can see terribly dark circles beneath his eyes that I barely noticed before. They're deep, almost appearing like bruises. A look of real concern on his face draws lines across his forehead and between his brows.

"Good. The guards aren't after you, so you should be able to get by easily." Before letting me go, he sort of smiles. "Thank you, Vivian, for, uh…not taking that chance to turn me in. I could tell you were close to deciding so."

I open my mouth to defend myself, to almost say I didn't think about it, but he doesn't seem angry. I give him an apologetic half-smile in return. With a nod and a wink, he lets me go and vanishes into the shadows. Turning the opposite way to Julian, I leave the alleyway and continue down the street. A cold evening breeze sweeps between the towering buildings. I let out a shuddering breath that isn't in response to the cold.

Now what do I do? I thought Julian would have told me something, given answers to questions I didn't consider until now. But all I'm left with is an endless well of questions. Even worse, I’m starting to wonder if accepting the Countess's job was wise. This should be a bounty hunter's job. I'm no bounty hunter—I'm not even a real magician. I'm just a nobody apprentice who still has years of practice ahead before I can consider myself so. Someone with less of a heart than me should have been the one.

"Hey! You there!"

Shit. Two guards approach, swords sheathed in silver scabbards hanging from their hips. They only stop once they're close enough to see my face, standing side by side in practised precision. Please tell me you didn't see, I plead silently. Please tell me I'm not about to pay for what I just did—who I just let go of.

Instead of what I expect, one says, "Oh. The Countess's magician."

I barely suppress my sigh of relief. It takes even more effort to keep my jaw from dropping as they both give me a short, sharp bow. I'm no royalty, belong to no noble name, but they still regard me as if I am greater than them. All because I've been working for the Countess. Once I turn in Julian and return home with my reward, will they still treat me the same? Or will I fall back into the lower class that they look down on?

"I'm Ludovico," the other says. "We met briefly yesterday at the gates."

Straightening my back and composing my face into a placid, calm expression, I smile, hoping they don't see the fear and relief within. They have no idea what I've done, who I just spoke with; nervousness would only cause suspicion. The last thing I need is for this to go downhill on day one.

"Ah, yes. I remember you. I'm supposed to be dining with the Countess this evening, but it is getting late." I speak with an unwavering voice. "Quite convenient that you're here, really. Do you think you could..."

Ludovico briskly waves off my unfinished question. "Of course, Miss Caelum. We'll hail you a carriage back to the palace. Wouldn't want to keep Her Majesty waiting, would we?"

I continue to smile. "Never."

Ludovico keeps his word as he escorts me to a broader street. I stay quiet as he hails me a gilded carriage, only muttering a 'good evening' as he closes the door behind me. Dark blue velvet clings to every surface, save the creaking wooden floor. Slumping down on the plush seat, I draw the sheer white curtains closed, wishing to block out any view of Southend. The silence is calming and comforting but not enough to wash away the worry.

The chance to end the search in only hours was right in my grasp. I could practically feel the hand of opportunity brush over my fingers, calling for me to take hold. But I didn’t. I froze. I thought better of it and considered Julian's safety as if I knew him. Cared for him. I let him disappear without a trace.

What am I doing?

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

#The Arcana #Julian Devorak #Asra Alnazar #Nadia Satrinava #lucio morgasson #portia devorak #julian devorak x mc #julian devorak x apprentice #The Arcana Julian Route

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amaranthine-fangs · 2 years

Text

eddie gluskin x oc fankids

so anyways minus that horrific loss that I'm too stunned to even try and comprehend, ill just give some short info on them instead

(tw for incest and mentions of murder ig)

So we have the children of my oc x canon (holly blackwater x eddie gluskin) whoopdeedo

Julian Edward Gluskin

born Nov 27, 2014

♐︎ sun / ♒︎ moon / ♎︎ rising / ♋︎ mc / ♌︎ lilith

ESTJ / 8w9

he/him

cishet

eddies lil' doppelganger in looks and personality (and activities)

unintentionally groomed sunny, the two live together as a couple

likely has an undiagnosed PD

Thomas Marshall Gluskin (Harbour)

born Dec 17, 2016

♐︎ sun / ♌︎ moon / ♌︎ rising / ♈︎ mc / ♏︎ lilith

INFJ / 1w2

he/him/they

demiboy / unsure sexuality

joined the army then moved to iceland

hasn't seen his family since he was 18

depressed and treats it will graham style (lots of dogs)

Suzanne "Sunny" Julia Gluskin

born Feb 2, 2018

♒︎ sun / ♍︎ moon / ♋︎ rising / ♓︎ mc / ♑︎ lilith

ENFJ / 5w4

she/her/dove/doveself

angelkinic +more xenos /guiltsexual / heterosexual

hangs out w holly every day

is in love w her brother despite knowing how its wacked out

diagnosed w DPD and ADHD as a young child

Morris Regan Gluskin

born Sep 18, 2020

♍︎ sun / ♎︎ moon / ♍︎ rising / ♊︎ mc / ♈︎ lilith

ISTP / 6w5

he/him

cis / bisexual

the model corrupt lawyer

has never touched alcohol or drugs of any kind

lacks empathy, HPD (undiagnosed though he is aware of it), hypersexual

Constance "Connie" Anne Gluskin

born Mar 10, 2022

♓︎ sun / ♍︎ moon / ♏︎ rising / ♍︎ mc / ♈︎ lilith

INFP / 8w9

she/they

graygender, anesigender / myraroace

saw too much shit to still be sane

close with eddie in the last decade of his life

diagnosed w GAD when she was extremely young

Cordelia Rosalia Gluskin

born May 28, 2024

♊︎ sun / ♒︎ moon / ♌︎ rising / ♉︎ mc / ♍︎ lilith

ESTP / 2w3

she/her/it/its/love/loves

rosegender, darklovecoric, kenochoric / polysexual / abroromantic

looks exactly like holly but with black hair

is eddies favorite child (tied with julian)

BPD

Caspian Reagan Gluskin

born Apr 9, 2026

♈︎ sun / ♑︎ moon / ♉︎ rising / ♒︎ mc / ♐︎ lilith

ISFP / 7w8

he/him/they/it/any but she/her

ospanoxhum, sea/ocean related KEIN genders / achillean

most like a fox

obsessed w things like the backrooms and unfiction

close with Cordelia the most

now for some non gluskid main characters in their life

Gray Ferris Montoya

born Jan 20, 2017

♒︎ sun / ♏︎ moon / ♐︎ rising / ♎︎ mc / ♏︎ lilith

ESTJ / 9w8

he/him

chooses to identify as a man but is a variety of musicgenders and emotiongenders / finsexual

determined to get revenge for his sister

hides his scars for others discomfort, not his own.

dating Cordelia, later marries her.

Eddie Charles Gluskin

born Jun 30, 1967

♋︎ sun / ♈︎ moon / ♏︎ rising / ♌︎ mc / ♈︎ lilith

ESTJ / 8w9

he/him

cishet man

amazing father and husband

symbiotic preventative relationship with Julian, both keep the other from killing unneccessarily.

married to the love of his life for 28 years (m. 2014)

Holly Narcissa Blackwater

born Aug 5, 1985

♌︎ sun / ♈︎ moon / ♉︎ rising / ♒︎ mc / ♉︎ lilith

ENFP / 1w2

she/her

cishet woman

cyberstalked her husband until she found him irl and manipulated him into staying with her.

just trying to Keep It Together

wishes she had more children

THEME SONG LIST HERE

#eddie gluskin #eddie gluskin x oc #oc x canon #canon x oc #gluskids #eddie gluskin kids #outlast fan characters #outlast #outlast whistleblower #outlast wb #will graham therapy #rip these kids fr #oc intros #ocs #oc #oc bios

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onyxamv · 2 years

Text

Welcome

Here I publish my writing and art!

You are welcome to request anything from the fandoms listed below! (If it's still within the rules of course.) :3

Fandoms which I write for:

The Arcana:

*Julian Devorak

*Portia

*Muriel

*Asra

*Nadia

*Valerius

*Valdemar

*Volta

*Vulgora

Black Butler:

*Sebastian

*Claude

*Grelle

*Alois (only platonic)

*Ciel (only platonic)

*Undertaker

*William T. Spears

*Madame Red

*Nina Hopkins

*Mey-Rin

*Baldroy

*Finny

Attack On Titan:

*Erwin Smith

*Miche Zacharius

*Levi Ackermann

*Hange Zoë

*Eren Jeager

*Mikasa Ackerman

*Armin Arlert

*Sasha Braus

*Reiner Braun

*Annie Leonhart

*Jean Kristein

*Connie Springer

*Pieck Finger

My Hero Academia:

*Shota Aizawa

*Hizashi Yamada

*Keigo Takami

*Dabi

*Shigaraki Tomura

*Iida Tenya

*Sero Hanta

*Kirishima Ejirou

*Tsuyu Asui

*Mezo Shoji

*Denki Kaminari

*Bakugo Katsuki

*Todoroki Shoto

*Mina Ashido

*Shinso Hitoshi

(Sorry for this being too short, I'm only comfortable with writing for these characters currently.)

This is all I can do for now!

Here are the rules you have to follow to request!

I will not write NSFW

No incest

No abuse/toxic relationship/yandere

Maybe a little angst BUT not death or things like that

On the other hand I will write fluff and comfort plus anything alike these

I will write MalexMale and FemalexFemale just specify it please

I write with They/Them pronouns to keep it netural if you'd like it otherwise please write it down in your request

I don't defy skin colour or anything in any of my fanfictions unless requested I want everyone to be comfortable reading it

I do not write anything with oc's

Remind you, this is a safe place for everyone!

If you are by any means against it please do not interact with my page! Thank you!

This is all I wanted to say, you can write your requests in the comments section or message me about it! <3

(edited post)

-Onyx <3

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marzzyminx · 3 years

Photo

#the arcana #the arcana mc #julian the arcana #the arcana julian #julian devorak #julian x apprentice #my apprentice #my mc #my art #doctor devorak #the arcane game #julian x mc #digital art #digital illustration #fanart #after the fade to black in deaths realm on the ship #julians route #chapter xix #the sun

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aaliyah-draws · 4 years

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The Doctor Who Wears Black 3/?

Here’s the third page to my headcanon comic of why Julian wears the color black. I’m really enjoying going into depth with this comic and getting close to the end of it so thank you for reading! 💕

#the arcana #the arcana game #julian devorak #julian x mc #julian x apprentice #valarie the apprentice #fan apprentice #my art #the doctor who wears black comic #my comics

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vesuvia-stan · 4 years

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My MC’s dress - Matching with Julian

Julian + background is from the official Arcana wiki.

I need to draw it with the glittery layer let down so it looks like the entire skirt part is glittery :) But now it’s attached to her bracelets (if that makes sense)

#the arcana #julian devorak #julian devorak x mc #masquarade #Ilya Devorak #dress #design #fashion #digital art #black swan #illustration #oc #MC

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brownandblackpearls · 3 years

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📜 🖋 𝒞ourting with 𝒟r. 𝒟evorak (Julian x BlackReader) Pt.4

PART 4 SUMMARY:

You are a reputable, young beauty of means in Vesuvia, enjoying the winter courting season. An odd letter from an odd doctor finds its way to your door. You are on the final segment of your first date, dining in a lively establishment deep in Vesuvia’s snowy burrows.

─── Julian x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── regency/historical/fantasy, courtship rituals, wealthy! MC, love letters, drama, handsome redheads

☾ previous. next

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

You thought that the play could be the highlight of the evening.

The rest of the night still had to happen, of course, but that fact held little sway over your rising opinion of the performance before you.

The drama was entrenching; the plot thick and delightfully conflicted with emotions of all sorts interwoven into the fabric of it. The actors were riveting; their faces full of contortion, expression, and range. The costumes and set designs were otherworldly; everything from the smallest trim to the boldest detail was painstakingly planned and executed to perfection.

You found yourself very pleased with the choice of play Julian had picked. The story was a rollercoaster of intense love triangles and by the time the curtains drew to a close, you couldn’t help but stand and applaud with the rest of the audience in the atrium.

“Bravo, magnificent!” Julian cries out, impassioned and forgetting himself. His eyes shine with feeling and intrigue, a far cry from the nervous man you’d met only hours before.

It is a sight to see him fill with energy like that over the theater. He seems to be an even bigger fan of it than you are. Perhaps that is why he was there at the theater, that fateful day when he first laid eyes on you...?

You call out approval and join him in his reverie, singing your own praises to the actors bowing below. They look into the audience past the bouquets of roses and flowers being thrown onto the stage, and for a moment, you even make eye contact with one of the younger, upstart actors. You are gifted a sly wink before the actor turns back to the crowd, bowing again and again.

As the theater lights come back on and the crowd compiles together amongst themselves down below between the aisles, you turn to face your date in the private box.

“Some show, right?” Julian beams, watching the crowds disperse towards the exits. There is still enough people inside that the hubbub nearly drowns both of your voices out.

“Yes,” you agree. “What a twist, at the end.”

“I know, right?” Julian nods, looking off into the distance, deep in his memories. “I couldn’t have ever predicted it.”

You raise your binoculars to your eyes, spying on the passerby below. As you rove over the many faces, you speak to your date casually.

“I think you are a drama enthusiast like me. You enjoy plays very much?”

Julian’s voice bounces back with vigor.

“Certainly. Good ones, especially. I used to attend the smaller local ones, once upon a time. I am glad we share that interest. I noted your interest during the finale.”

Your brows lift, but you do not take your eyes from behind the binoculars.

“Yes, it was very good. I am surprised you are not a thespian yourself, Julian.”

He sighs softly, and you can almost feel him nodding next to you.

“I…I was, once. I decided to pursue a different passion that I held a bit more talent for. Medicine. But…we all live many lives, don’t we?”

You look to him and think of yourself, and all the lives you’ve lived up until now.

“We do,” you agree. “See, your theory is proven. Take a look.”

You slide over the binoculars and watch as Julian peers down into the crowd for himself. A smirk plays at his lips and you find yourself mirroring it. You both begin to share insights on the crowd below, leaning in close together against the banister and passing the binoculars back and forth between yourselves.

“Goodness, that fur looks ravishing on her!”

“So ‘ravishing’ that the fox could hop off her shoulders and run away, if I didn’t know any better!”

You laugh, doing poorly to hide your teeth behind your gloved hand. Julian smiles wider, clearly happy to have won humor from you. He carries on with the silliest of impressions based on the unsuspecting people below and you can hardly contain yourself, noticeably drawing some looks as both of your joy echoes around the emptying atrium.

A group of posh gentleman look up at you both in annoyance, and Julian and you retreat from the banister out of sight into your theater box. Giving each other a knowing grin, you both gather your belongings and carry yourselves out of the box with decorum and grace.

“We’re decent folk,” Julian jests, loud enough for only your ears as you both step over the velevet carpet of the theater. “Us? Bothering the well-to-do? Making charades of their lives? Impossible. I am a doctor, not a clown.”

You giggle at his antics, shaking your head.

“And I, sir, am a lady. I do not associate with such poor manner.”

“Quite!”

“Well…only sometimes, when I am with doctors.”

Julian chuckles himself, his smile widening. To anyone else, you both would seem as if you’re engaging in normal conversation expected to come from two of the upper crust attendees.

Only you know better.

Together, the two of you joke and laugh all the way out of the theater and to carriage waiting outside. Once you leave the breadth of the theater’s shelter, the winter chill grips you and you realize snow has begun to fall once more. The sun has long hidden away and the night stars twinkle above.

Julian pulls you closer, and hurries his steps to the carriage. You shiver as you take in his warmth, letting him draw you.

“After you, Lady _________,” Julian states formally, opening the door and offering a gloved hand to help you in.

You pause momentarily, looking from his hand and back to him. You glance around at all of the people drawing to their own carriages and horses. Many of them are with their partners and families, laughing and arguing and regaling tales of times from long ago.

You look back into Julian’s face, wondering if he will be at your side like that one day. It is a moment too soon to wonder on, yes.

But the wonder remains.

He looks back to you with a note of concern before you soothe it away with a nod and carry yourself into the carriage. He follows in soon after, with a resounding shut of the door, blocking away all outside noise and chill.

“So,” Julian poses, glancing your way. “Hungry?”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

The restaurant he ends up taking you to is splendid. You can see the dazzling lights coming from within the dull building before the carriage even pulls to a full stop outside the establishment. The outside is nothing to write home about, but you’ve found in your time as a lady that some of the best places are well-hidden in mediocrity.

Julian seems to understand a similar concept.

“You’ll like it! Trust me,” he assures.

“I’m sure I will,” you agree. “I’ve liked everything else so far. I trust you.”

Those words seem to throw Julian off momentarily, as if he is not quite sure what to say or think.

“Well-I…well then!” He surmises, turning away with a finger pulling at his collar and a funny look.

He escorts you both into the restaurant. You are taken aback by the boisterous manner of the patrons inside. They are dressed well and are dining fine, but they are laughing louder than any crowds you’ve mingled in before and some are even dancing out in what looks like a dance floor.

Waiters rush past with heavy trays, topped in silver domes and bright drinks. A host gestures you and your escort through the fray, before greeting you and seating you.

‘Reservations yet again, you note to yourself pleasantly. The doctor is a meticulous man when he desires it, you think. How long has he been planning this evening, you wonder?

Following after the server host, Julian guides you through the tables and diners to your own table, lit by chandelier’s gleam and candlelight. You seat yourself after he pulls out your chair.

You both put in your order with the attentive waiter before turning to one another, taking it all in.

“It’s energetic here,” you begin.

“If that’s code for, ‘so loud that I we can barely hear each other’, then you’d be right!”

You chuckle, shrugging your shoulders. That wasn’t too far off the mark, but you liked the atmosphere. Your home and the places you roamed often held far more reservedness, so it was nice to be in a partying kind of place for once.

“Well, it’s definitely that. Is it always this way?”

“Usually! It used to a smaller affair. But the owner has done well over the years. Now anyone can come and have a good time. This used to be a rougher part of town, believe it or not. But the people never were. Just their circumstances. With a little finagling of political allies, and a few investments to infrastructure…this place thrives now. It’s better now that there’s more opportunity. Sometimes I don’t know if I miss the rough and tough days more, though. More fun that way.”

He winks, looking away to the crowds.

‘Rough and tough is more fun, hm? This one has an interesting story to tell, I’ll bet. And I wonder if that applies elsewhere...’

You are pulled out of your thoughts once you catch Julian staring intensely at you. He seemed to have thought you wouldn’t look his way and had been taking full advantage ogling you until he realized suddenly, and turned away. He turns back not even seconds later, clearly wanting to say something, but stuck on you.

‘Funny man.’

You almost speak until Julian beats you to the chase.

“Are you enjoying yourself? Tired, perhaps? It is no concern at all if you would like to draw the night to a close. I’m aware I packed in quite a bit into our first engagement. I just...erh...I want you to enjoy our time together. I’d like it very much if you remembered this night...”

‘...Or me,’ is left unsaid. But both of you seem to hear it loud and clear.

“I do not wish to retire,” you say. “I am content here with you.”

Julian smiles.

“Good.”

He begins to inquire about you, your likes, your dislikes, your past, your aspirations. You find the conversation flowing easily, and there is less pressure to answer as Julian clearly knows how to embellish humility in order to take the focus off of whoever he’s talking to. It’s easier to tell him something of a more sensitive nature when he's being vulnerable, himself.

You think to yourself as you converse.

Julian has taken you to a restaurant that he’s spent much time in before, it seems. He’s taken you to a theater he’s spent much time in. He’s taken you to a medical gala that he’s likely attended in a similar essence prior. All these places are pieces of him in a way, and yet he made sure that with each event, he attempted to upscale the experience for something to your liking. Julian is no lord, yet he knew he was dealing with a lady, and acted accordingly, even if his choices weren’t what some would call choices of propriety.

It’s not that you sought lavish things from him, necessarily, though those were certainly nice and of no harm. It’s how…he blended the two. How he blended what you may like and what he may like. It’s his clear consideration for you that shows throughout the evening.

You enjoyed that he wanted to show pieces of himself to you while still thinking of you. You liked how attentive and thoughtful he had been today. He was well-mannered, initiative, conversational, of good humor, and so on.

‘I would like to see him again,’ you decide resolutely. Of course, you had already known this back when you first laid eyes on him in your foyer. Yet after spending time with him, the desire has only cemented itself further in you.

You leave your thoughts and begin to observe the dancing and live band across the room, smiling at all the joy.

Julian notices, smirking.

“You dance?” he asks.

You glance over at him, a little awed. He’s such a tall, broad fellow. You find it hard to picture him dancing at all.

“Do you?”

He nods to the side.

“I can show you better than I could tell you.”

“Well in that case,” you say, setting aside your things. “let's see your best!”

Julian watches you stand before smiling, taking your hand, and leading you onto the dance floor.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Plenty of dishes, steps, laughs, and locked gazes later, you are finally home in front of your abode.

Julian helps you out of the carriage, his hair in a flurry underneath his hat from all the dancing. You’re certain you haven’t fared much better, indulging in the vigor yourself back at the restaurant.

That hadn’t been the only thing that worked you up, either. Julian’s hands glancing off your body, his eyes piercing into you, the warmth of the collective crowds surrounding you and pressing you close...

...For a moment, you thought he might kiss you on the dance floor.

You feel a similar inkling now, watching him on your grand steps as you both stand before the door. He is watching you watch him, and time seems to hold under the soft, snowy sky.

‘Could I chance it?’

You look around. The carriage driver pretends to busy himself with fixing the horses’ saddles, and you pretend you didn’t notice one of your servants peeking through the curtains only to dash away in a flash.

‘Ugh. Maybe propriety and proper manner can be forgotten, just this once.’

As you fight to decide on what to do, Julian offers a hand and you grace him your own. He lifts your knuckles to his lips and kisses them smoothly before releasing you gently.

“May I have your favor, Lady ______?” he asks.

‘Ah, so he will do it the gentleman’s way.’

That saved you some trouble of deciding whether or not to have him take you away in his carriage into the night, away from good manner and courting ritual.

“You may,” you respond.

You reach to your bosom and pull out your engraved, courting handkerchief which had yet to see the light of day...until now. You hand it to Julian, and he neatly folds it with barely contained pleasure before placing it in the breast pocket of his jacket.

Now he knew your intentions, and you knew his.

“I will call for you again,” he says. It is not a question this time, it is not wavering. He seems to have found his nerve tonight, receiving your favor. Maybe it was the dancing. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the favor.

Or maybe, it was the moment?

“I will answer,” you say softly. It is not a lie.

Julian slides off his glove, raising the hand you had kissed only hours before. Your mark is still there, and there it remains as he brings it to his own lips. His eyes closed for a moment. The night is silent save for snowfall as he just holds the stance before finally lowering his hand and re-gloving it as if nothing had happened.

He knows he cannot have a kiss tonight. Not if he wants to honor you and the process. Yet, he knows you desire it. And you’ve both found your own, private way to rectify the dilemma.

“I look forward to our correspondence,” he promises. “Keep warm tonight.” The words are formal, but there is something tight and wound up in the tone that makes the hair on your skin stand at attention in the most delicious way.

You let your eyes drag up his frame from the soles of his shoes to the tip of his head before locking eyes with him.

“I surely will. If I can’t manage, well...perhaps I could send for a professional like you to do a house call?” you inquire subtly. You turn and ignore the undignified sound he makes, stepping through your doorway.

“Goodnight, Doctor!”

You close the door without a second glance and smile, sashaying all the way up to your rooms.

If anyone’s having the last laugh, it’s you. You’re looking forward to your future courting.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not copy, repost, translate, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

☾ previous. next

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

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lin-uchiha · 4 years

Text

min comic I had in my head for awhile 😂 I love drawing Julian the most! I am planning on doing a part 2 this which will lean towards the NSFW side ❤

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marvel-ousnesss · 4 years

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Masterlist (requests open)

Prompt list

Request!

Tools

* = series

DESCENDANTS:

↠ The Pirate and the Witch (Harry Hook x reader) * - five parts posted, PAUSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

↠ Little Flame (Hades x reader)

MARVEL:

My very own Prince Charming (Bucky x reader royal au) *

THE WITCHER:

↠ Flesh, not porcelain (Geralt x reader) *

Part II

Part III

DIVERGENT:

↠ "Just trained a bit," said the liar (Eric x reader)

X-MEN:

↠ Safe Heaven (Warren Worthington III x reader)

ELITE:

↠ When you look at me (Valerio x reader)

↠ There for you (Valerio x reader)

↠ Unrequited (Valerio x reader)

HARRY STYLES:

↠ Hand in hand (Harry Styles x reader)

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER:

↠ The one with the boiling rock (Zuko x reader)

↠ The one with all the theatrics (Zuko x reader)

↠ Sokka x reader

THE FOLLOWING FICS ARE NOT MINE, JUST THE ONES I’VE REBLOGED

Note to writers: I love all your work so so so much!! Keep creating and know you made someone really happy by sharing your talent 💜🙆🏽‍♀️✨

Love her for me (Steve Rogers x reader) by @visionspaprika

From Dusk To Dawn (Klaus Mikaelson x reader) by @companionjones

Duvet days and vanilla ice-cream (Luke Hemmings x reader) by @fuckin-psychotic

Sunflower (Bucky x reader) by @softlybarnes

Little Star (Bucky x reader) by @the-goddamn-queen

Double Blind (Bucky x reader) by @wkemeup

hold my hand (Bucky x reader) by @chaoticarson

Fix things for you (Valerio x reader) by @probably-writing-x

tui+la (Zuko x reader) by @imagine-yourself-happy

Living with Julian x Asra by @justmevoldemort

Classical musician S/O (the arcana) hc by @poppyflowercrowns

Robb Stark x Lannister!reader by @writingfortoomanyfandoms

Team Work (Eggsy Unwin x Reader) by @ijustwant2write

Timeless Pt. 1 (Klaus Mikaelson x F!Reader) by @think-blot

Dusky Pink (MGK x reader) by @harringtonstudios

zuko x Waterbender!reader by @passable-talent

Look at me (Thor x reader) by @marvelousmarvelimagines

Saving you (Anakin x reader) by @certifiedskywalker

And then there was Light (Roger Taylor x reader) by @angrylizardjacket

A night to remember (Lucifer Morningstar x reader) by @ayanna-wild

Braids (Anakin Skywalker x reader) by @sarcastic-bubble

The sorcerer’s apprentice (Loki x reader) by @ridiculousn3sswrites

Weapons expert (Eggsy x reader) by @corrupted-doe

Tis but a flesh wound (Warren Worthington III x reader) by @super-shield

Peter Parker x soulmate!reader by @glossybarnes

Love through the periods of time (Klaus Mikaelson x reader) by @little-diable

Weakness (Four x reader) by @theo-james-is-hot

For real (Grayson Dolan x reader) by @babeygray

Ten things I hate about you (JJ Maybank x reader) by @mrsmaybankhere

Manipulating bitch (JJ Maybank x reader) by @mayraki

The art of being afraid (JJ Maybank x reader) by @starksweasley

Here again (Steve Rogers x reader) by @marvelinsanity

Biggest fan (Calum Hood x reader) by @ukulelecal

Radio interview (MGK x reader) by @machine-gun-casie

Stardust (Zuko x reader) by @starrysokka

Mini America (Steve Rogers x sister!reader + platonic!Tony) by @cas-kingdom

Down in the DM (Harry Styles x OC) by @alexandragramz

The times you wanted to cry in front of JJ but held back, and the time you didn’t (JJ x reader) by @anxiousstark

The eternal flame (JJ x reader) by @kikifromtheblock

Sexy (Tom Holland x reader) by @waitimcomingtoo

It still hurts (Peter Parker x reader) by @issa-me-addy

Good in bed (Poe dameron x reader) by @milleniumvalcon

When in NY (warren worthington III x reader) by @perkypenguinperks

Be like that (ji maybank x reader) by @love-chx

Flammable (Newt (PP) x reader) by @shayewilliams Part 2

Don’t mess with the troublemakers (jj x oc) by @mayraki

The swing of things (Neal Caffrey x reader) @spinsterlocity-writes

Open (Harry Styles x reader) by @bfharry

Love amongst the tiles (Harry styles x reader) by @kikifromtheblock

the glorious gift of stir fry (Thor x reader) by @peachyteabuck

The Devil´s Daughter (Lucifer Morningstar x Daughter!Reader) by @writingtoforgetreality

#tony stark x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #harry hook x reader #peter parker x reader #5sos x reader #luke hemmings x reader #ashton irwin x reader #calum x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #sirius black x reader #damon salvatore x reader #asra x mc #julian x mc #jay x reader #carlos de vil x reader #draco malfoy x reader

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nikki-on-edge · 5 years

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Inktober: Day 4

“A little FREEZE in feathers.”

(Winter is coming, evenings are colder… That’s why Malak found a perfect material to stay warm with his buddy, Dean. Bucky’s old scarf is still warm and, even if it’s her membrance of grandmother, she doesn’t mind. After all, who would be angry at such cute birbs? :3 Malak from The Arcana Game belongs to Nix Hydra. Dean the chickadee, Bucky’s familiar, belongs to @canadian-buckbeaver. Do not use arts/ideas/designs without my permission! Reblogs and likes are really appreciated! Follow my tags for more Inktober art! ♥️)

#inktober2019 #inktober day 4 #inktober challenge #freeze #the arcana game #the arcana #malak the arcana #dean the chickadee #julian devorak #julian x mc #julian x bucky #birb buddies #red scarf #snowing #traditional art #markers #black and white #my art #NikkiArt

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thenightcallsme · 7 months

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The Arcana: Julian's Route | Chapter 2

!! THIS STORY IS A DETAILED RETELLING OF THE ARCANA, INCLUDING PAID SCENES IN BOTH PROLOGUE AND JULIAN ROUTE. ALL CHARACTERS EXCEPT THE MC ARE PROPERTY OF THE ARCANA FRANCHISE !!

A/N: This is a reupload from my AO3 cause I want to branch out. Enjoy!!

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Fem!Magician Reader

This Chapter Contains: N/A

Word Count: 4,515

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The sky is a dark swirl of clouds above my head, colours of dawn purples. Stars are peaking through the last rays of sunlight that are falling beyond the horizon. There is only a flat expanse of shifting, golden sand that dances in the low light as if it's a rolling sea. Cleaving through it is a path of smooth black stone. My feet are bare and aching on the strange path.

Beside me stands a beast of pure white fur. I stare at it for a moment in wonder, unable to find any features but black eyes peeking through the thick fur. And sitting atop it...

Asra looks back at me, wearing the same clothes I last saw him in, scarf pulled tight.

"Do you understand that I dare not tell you? If I did, you'd have to promise me never to seek this path. ...I'm not even as much a hypocrite as that, Vivian," he says in his soft, yet deep voice.

My eyes go from my master to the black road. I'm sure I'd never take this dark, savage path. And yet the smooth stone is so soothing and cool, so fascinating. I know I shouldn't find it so. I strain to see where it leads, but the path keeps changing.

"Soon there will be crossroads," Asra says.

This catches my attention. "'Crossroads'? Could you at least tell me where they lead?"

"You know I can't." He shakes his head at the pleading and anger in my eyes. "Rest now."

"You can't push me away!" I cry.

No. No no no.

Everything is slipping from my grasp, the scene swaying and dying. All that remains true is Asra's face, vivid and sympathetic. I try to keep my balance, but it's getting too hard to stand.

"I would never."

I try to scowl, but I'm so tired. "Then explain why you won't tell me where you go, what I should expect."

"Viv, I—"

Everything has gone dark, and my heart caves in. Why does something as small as a secret make me feel so neglected? I've never had a real friendship to base communication off, but I at least know he should be open with me. And this dream Asra...what I said is the closest I've ever been to telling the real him how I feel.

I wonder if I ever will.

⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Sunlight and bird song float from my window and push the curtains on a careful breeze. The raging golden sun peaks behind the shingle roof of the apartment across the street. Shit

I spring off the bed and rush to the closet, throwing the doors open. I desperately rummage through my belongings to find something expensive-looking. Finery and priceless jewellery are two things I've never owned and never expect to, but that's never stopped me from trying to look appealing.

The best I can do is a long white skirt that hugs my waist, paring it with a plain green scarf. That I secure at my waist with a belt to make a makeshift top. It creates a low neckline, making room for my layered necklaces. Many small crystals and silver hoops adorn my ears, and I slide homemade rings onto my fingers. Everything is silver, all the gems earthy tones and inexpensive. The sandals I do up are not so appealing, but thankfully the skirt hides them.

The state of my hair makes me stop and cringe. The Countess would have seen in in a similar state last night. I hastily grab a brush and smooth it out, pulling my hair into loose braids that nearly reaches my waist Once my lips are painted a glossy red and my lashes are darkened, I grab my things and close the door behind me.

Everything still feels so surreal. I am a student of the magical arts, with no name in the world yet, my future—until now—only promising my job as a shopkeep. I read cards, sure, and I have some unreliable magic that flows and burrows beneath my skin despite coming from a very mundane family. Yet, today I will be stepping foot in the Vesuvian Palace to see Countess Nadia upon her wishes.

I shake my head. Keep doubting on it, I tell myself and it will all turn out a dream.

After last night's intrusion, I'm sure to turn the first lock, then the second, then the third. I try the door, letting out a breath of relief as it holds firm. But... I still press my hand to the worn wood and whisper a cross-me-not spell to be sure. The wood lights up beneath my touch as Asra's delicate carvings are awakened.

The shop will be well. All will be well.

The morning mist is heavy and thick, yet to be scattered by the heat of the day. It blankets the street in an ethereal milky glow as the early morning sun pierces it. I take a moment to take in the tranquil scene, only to feel the hairs on my neck raise in alarm.

Flashbacks from last night hit me hard and my magic reacts instantly. Careful not to be too wary, I turn slowly.

At first, I don't realise I'm looking at a human. Their form is certainly human, though monstrous in size. They wear only loose-fitted pants and a ragged cloak, a brown fur belt tied around their waist. It's no doubt a man, from the impressively muscled chest to his body shape. Scars are etched into his tanned skin, clean and jagged, shallow and deep, worn and silver with some new and purplish.

His face is hard to make out, though I can tell he's definitely watching me. ...Maybe waiting for me to approach? It's inevitable, as I need to go down the street he stands in the middle of. And while I could take another route I'm in no mood to feel intimidated.

So I walk towards the towering stranger and say, "Hey, you're in my way."

Stormy green eyes meet mine, unblinking. I can see frowning lips, a sharp jaw covered in stubble, a carefully curved nose. Unkept black hair falls over the only eye I can see. I can hear the rattle of metal on metal beneath his robes as he shifts, but doesn't move.

Fed up and ignorant of the chills racing down my spine, I go to step around him—

Only to freeze as a firm, large hand lands on my shoulder.

"He will return, uninvited," a voice of thunder rumbles from under his robes.

If I had not already gone still by the heavy hand on me, I would have now. He will return. This massive mountain of a man isn't talking of Asra. But how the hell does he—

"He will offer you an escape when you need it most. Turn it away, or you will fall into his hands. Just like the rest of us."

An escape to decline. Something that could end me up like the rest of us. But who is us? And why am I being dragged into this?

The weight from my shoulder is gone, but I'm still frozen, mind turning like the wheel of a waterwork. There is shuffling behind me, the sound of cloth and chains dragging against the stone streets. And then silence.

Exhaling deeply, I continue down the street and toward the narrow, mossy steps that will take me to the marketplace. Wood groans beneath my feet as I step carefully onto the walkway stretching across a canal.

The marketplace is set along one of the rivers that run from the coastline of the city, splitting it into six districts: the South End, the Temple District, the Flooded District, the Centre City, and the Heart District where the wealthy and well-respected reside. Seven districts, if you include Ash Beach. Thankfully, my shop and the marketplace are both located in the Centre City—the district that connects to the Heart, which the countess resides.

Branching from either side of the calm river are planks of wood connecting the shops. The riversides are bustling with life. People of all colours and genders and professions mull over what hand-crafted necklace they should buy for their loved ones. Food is sold in bulk, and people's mouths water over fresh cinnamon buns. The marketplace is always my favourite spot to be in the morning, the smells and colourful sights waking my senses.

"Vivian! Have you eaten yet!?"

I know that voice. I see the warm smile of the local baker from behind his orange-coloured stall. He's wearing flowing white pants and a tunic the colour of honey. His skin is practically glowing this morning.

"You always seem to know when I need some of your delicious meals, Finnick," I call back with a grin.

"Well, in that case," I can practically see the glint in his dark eyes from across the river, "I have your favourite pumpkin loaf in the oven. It won't be long now."

I sniff the air on impulse, my stomach twisting in hunger. Then again, I should be careful about the time. But I haven't eaten yet, and who's going to scold me if I'm a few minutes behind me?

I cross the wooden walkway. "Damn you and your pumpkin bread."

Finnick's sun-kissed face brightens even more. He leads me into the booth where we're welcomed by the rush of spice-scented air. My mouth waters, my stomach growling a second demand to hurry up.

Finnick's small traveling cafe has a good reputation around Vesuvia, his glutinous treats a sort-out delicacy. Thankfully, I always seem to catch him in the early hours, with room for me to sit and enough food in stock to take a few home. He passes me a steaming tin of tea. When in my hands, he braces his hands on his hips.

"And where is Asra?" he asks. "Sleeping in?"

I take a sip as I consider how to answer—though it's always the same reason. I sigh. "Off journeying somewhere. Again," I add with distaste.

"Ahh, and where to this time?" I shrug, taking another sip. Finnick raises a brow. "He didn't say? You're telling me the rascal is keeping secrets from his prized pupil?"

Finnick's words are in jest, but they prod something within the compels me to answer. The thought of Asra sharing everything with me is laughable. Yes, we have lots of physical things to share, but deep down, it's those thoughts and feelings that mean more.

Where are you going?

...Out.

When will you be back?

Sooner or later.

The idea of what he was hiding from me used to drive me crazy. And sometimes it still does. But...these are things I have to live with. A small price to pay for how much he has saved and changed my life, I guess.

"It's always like that," I say.

"You two are so complicated." He shakes his head and laughs. "So, he's off on another secret journey. And where are you off to today, may I ask?"

I consider holding my tongue, but I grin around the tin. "I'm going to the palace to see the countess."

Finnick's eyes widen a fraction. He whistles a low, long note. "So it's true. There have been whispers all morning, you know. Word is she was wandering about like a lost lamb 'til she found your door."

He leaves his statement open. Burning with curiosity, he waits for me to fill him in on the details. I laugh and take a sip of the minty beverage, keeping silent eye contact. He rolls his eyes and playfully sticks out his tongue.

"So how's that bread coming along?" I say instead.

With a shake of his head and an unintelligible mutter, he trudges to the little wood burning stove to check. He reaches in with a flat-faced spatula and drags out a small golden loaf of bread. The sweet, mouth-watering smell of the bread fills the room in seconds.

"Here you go," he says, passing it over, "all wrapped and ready for the road."

I reach for the coin pouch buried in my satchel, but his hand is placed over mine. When I look up with question, Finnick shakes his head at me with a smile.

"But you—"

"A little free treat for my favourite customer doesn't hurt. But next time bring Asra. And the snake." He winks.

Overcome with gratitude, I grab him in a tight hug. His skin smells of sugar and freshly made bread. "Ask that husband of yours if he could meet with me later this week for a new carpet, please? I'm afraid I...spilled a great deal of stuff on it that I can't get out."

It's not like I can't pay, but financial stability is a worry of mine. Finnick knows and always seems to give me free items, passing them off as a treat. But truly, it's a gift, no matter how cheap it is. I'll be sure to pay full for the new carpet.

"Of course, Vivian. Now don't keep the countess waiting."

With one final squeeze, I whisper a goodbye and ten more thank you's. Never will they be enough, though.

When I emerge from the stall, the morning traffic has become heavy. I'm careful to join the flow with caution of the customers. Up ahead is a narrow stone stairwell, where the masses and their animals cluster and walk through. And as my heels make contact with the first step, something catches my eye; A fortune-tellers booth tucked away in a shady corner. Silver moons adorn the tapestries draped over the entrance, shrouding it in secrecy. The sight teases a smile out of me as I note it and a few street dancers around it. How nostalgic...

As I'm lost in my past, a patron emerges from the booth, caught up in conversation. I give a wide berth for her to pass. I hear the woman's voice, sweet and soft and heavily accented. She must not be from around here. From the rolls on her r's and the thickness of her voice, she must be from Nevivion. It's not often you find Nevivion tourists in Vesuvia. The southern continent is nearly a month's travel away. Maybe a week shorter if you dared take the journey across the sea.

"Before I forget, what are my lucky numbers today?" The fortune-teller murmurs to her and she nods. "Three, six, seven, nine. Got it."

I pass them and walk ahead towards the castle, noting how the sun is already starting towards the horizon. The one thing that could improve the city could be more transport; horse carts, canoes in the river, anything. Sometimes it takes too damn long to make my way across the city.

The shrieking caw of a large black raven perched on a stall catches my attention. Its beady black eyes meet mine, cocking its head to the side like a curious dog. Suddenly, its attention isn't on me anymore as it caws again, loud and alerting as it peers over my shoulder. I have half the mind to follow its gaze...

...and my heart stops dead.

Moving casually through the crowd is a tall figure with pale skin and wild auburn hair, whistling to himself. I don't need a double-take to let the familiarity hit me like a brick to the head. His clothes are the same—a large black coat with red lining, the navy pants and button-up shirt, leather boots—but there is no sign of the bird-like mask.

Doctor Julian.

Even from this distance and the rolling sea of people, I don't see a bandage on the side of his face. There is no healer in this part of the city who could heal something as deep as that cut so fast. I sure as hell am not about to ask him, though, and thankfully he hasn't spotted me.

Without a second thought, I duck into the crowd. My mind races as I run in the opposite direction. Why of all places would he be in a marketplace, particularly one of the busiest in Center City, without that mask? And in broad daylight? If he's here now, could he have stayed nearby the whole time? I shiver at my next thought. Is he following me?

Confident that I can stay on my feet, I dare to steal a glance backward to see if he's spotted me. No, he hasn't. He's still distracted by all the—

Above the bustling noises of the crowd, the huge raven caws again, louder than before as it swoops in front of me. I skid to a halt and barely miss its beating wings as it circles me and caws again before perching itself on another stall.

Julian's attention shifts at the loud call as if he recognises it, his eyes searching the crowd with a frown, and this time, I can’t avoid it. We lock eyes and at first, there is only surprise in his look as he goes still. Though, it soon vanishes, replaced by another look that seems to purr 'hello again'.

He's definitely seen me now.

But I've spent years of my life in these streets, spent time earning money off these streets. Run-ins with the wrong people are common, no less for street performers, and of course, we always learned how to slip away. Every nook, every alleyway, every twist and turn in this city is my best friend.

I leave the main path and weave through the booths faster than before, zig-zagging in my own familiar way like a ghost in the wind. I pass that fortune teller's booth again and prepare to turn that sharp corner to the weather-beaten stairs that cleave between two towering buildings. It's barely wide enough to fit two people. Knowing that nobody uses them and that there should be a pottery stall keeping it half hidden, I make a beeline straight for it. I turn that corner without slowing; a mistake. I should have slowed, should have thought twice. Instantly, I collide with an unsuspecting woman.

The impact throws me back, teetering on the edge of a step, the shoes I'm wearing catching in a crevice. At the last second, I throw my hands out, pushing a gust of wind to the ground to regain my balance. The other woman isn't so lucky. The basket she was skilfully balancing on her hip slips from her grasp and hits the ground, sending a dozen pomegranates rolling through the crowd.

"Oh my, I'm sorry!" I gush, a flush of embarrassment on my checks. "I'm sorry, I was in a hurry."

The woman doesn't seem to hear me, though, as she mutters, "Oh, perfect. As if I wasn't already running late."

I drop down to a crouch beside the woman and grab the three closest to me. I snatch a stray one from the cobble street before a donkey's hove comes straight down on it. When I pour the cluster of saved fruits into her basket, her eyes finally fall on me. There's a flicker of annoyance in her eyes—rightfully so—but she still offers me a warm smile on her soft rosebud mouth.

The woman is possibly a little younger than me, with smooth, rosy-pale skin covered in freckles like splattered pain. Her steel-blue eyes are round and sparkling with happiness. Bangs of curling auburn hair frame her heart-shaped face, falling from her loose bun. She doesn't wear expensive materials, just a short, white dress lined with a gold pattern that falls off her shoulders and bunches at her elbows. Cinching in her curved waist is a shawl the colours of a sunset.

There is something so strangely familiar about her, yet I've never seen her in my life. I mean, I did see her exiting the fortune stall.

"Ooh, thank you!" she says with delight. "How sweet of you to help me."

I offer her a hand. "Of course. I did run into you. It was the least I could do."

Her smile brightens as she places her hand in mine, hers’ small and calloused against mine, worn by work. I begin to doubt that she is just a tourist. A cleaner for a wealthy house, maybe? A seamstress?

She finds her feet and reaches into the basket, pulling out a pomegranate and rubbing it against her shawl. "I probably shouldn't do this, but take it. As a thank you."

With a smile, I take it. "Thank you, um..."

"Portia," she finishes. "And you?"

"Vivian."

She adjusts the basket on her hip. "Well, Vivian, take care now. I'll see you arou—"

Suddenly, the woman cuts herself off her eyes narrowing for a moment as she studies me, lost in thought like she recognises me. Then, as if someone had shouted my name, her eyes widen.

"Wait, wait, wait!" she blurts. "I think I know who you are."

I frown. "I...don't think I can say the same?"

How could she possibly—

"You're Vivian Caelum," she breathes in astonishment, "the magician. Countess Nadia said we were expecting you."

My eyes widen for a second as her words echo in my head. She does know me, but...we? Portia must work for the countess—which explains me wondering if she was a house worker, the basket of pomegranates for the countess herself. Her reverence for the fruit is no secret. Even Portia’s name rings a bell, possibly from being whispered of around the market.

What surprises me most, though is the sound of my name. I never told the countess my last name. Hell, she never even spoke my fist. All I knew was that she was sure I was Asra. Was she not seeking him after all? But who would have recommended…

"I'm milady's head servant, if that explains anything," she adds.

"I guess you do know me, then," I say with a grin. "In fact, I was just making my way to the palace."

"Well, then, how lucky are we to have met! Come on, I'll show you to the palace."

Please don't go back to the main road, please don't turn around, I pray silently. As if answering my prayers, Portia continues back up the stairs. I follow beside her, breathing a sigh of relief. Though I still wonder if the doctor is wandering the crowd looking for me.

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The colours of Portia's shawl soon match the sky's display as the sun reaches the end of its ascent. The number of stairs are far greater than I remember, but then again I never have a reason to take this stairway nowadays. By the time we reach the flat expanse of cobble street towards the palace, my calves and lungs are begging for rest. But Portia's pace is too strong for me to slow down enough to even ask. Little beads of sweat gather on my brow and between the hollow of my breasts.

The silence is heavy yet comfortable; it has been for a while now. Finally, Portia speaks.

"I'm glad milady found you when she did," Portia says solemnly. "The countess could use good help. And you look like the good kind."

I purse my lips. "She told me little to none, but she seemed like she needed a special sort of help that doesn't just include what I am used to." I sigh. "I just hope I can help."

"As do I."

Portia suddenly slows to stop and my mind finally has a moment to register where we are. And when I look up...

Standing assertive and tall before us is a towering gate of twisted, glistening iron, the arrow-headed tips beautiful and deadly. Beyond that, I can see the palace closer than ever before. Tower upon tower shoot from the ground to try touch the rising moon with their golden roofs. The worn yet sparking marble walls are regal and blinding even in the dying light. I stare at it in awe, the knowledge that I am about to stand inside it almost feeling like a faraway dream.

On either side of the gates are guards clad in shining silver armour, armed to the teeth. Their eyes all fall on me without even moving their heads, and if I didn't note that small movement, I would have wondered if they were statues. Their gazes pass over me and towards Portia as they move aside, lowering their weapons.

"Ludovico, Bludmila, this is Vivian," Portia says by way of greeting. "She'll be staying with us as our guest."

They only nod.

Portia turns to me, waving her hand to the right guard. "Vivian, this is Bludmila." I don't see much of the woman other than olive skin and a peak of unnaturally coloured red hair framing her dark brown eyes. Portia points to the left where I find a strikingly similar face to Blubmila's, but of the opposite gender. "And this is Ludovico."

They nod once more and together, push open the heavy iron gates, giving us a clear path right to the palace.

"After you, Vivian," Portia says.

I comply without really thinking, my feet moving and my eyes wide as I look at the castle as if captured in a trance. Portia leads me across a long, arched bridge is made of white stone that crosses the moat. I look over the edge and into the water as we cross it. A long, sleek eel of sorts glides swiftly through the current, veins glowing like fire beneath transparent skin. I try to look closer, but Portia grabs my arm, pulling me away from the edge.

"Hey—" but I don't get to finish.

Portia gives me a look of warning. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. We've had a few...incidents with those things down there."

"What are they?" I breathe. I've never seen such things, let alone heard of them, so why would they infest the waters in the palace grounds?

She shrugs. "No one has the faintest idea. Recently they just showed up with no warning. Not to mention they have a nasty, fatal bite."

"Sounds like somebody put them there.”

"It has been a theory—but I don't want to think about it." She recomposes herself, replacing her look of worry with a smile. "Now let's not keep milady waiting."

I incline my head in agreement, but my gut feeling begins to sit wrong. As we approach the intricate doors, anxieties start to rise like bubbles in boiling water. Is this wise? What am I even to expect? I know I've said this enough already, but why me? What do I have to offer the countess? Too soon have we come to a stop before the towering set of doors.

"Here we are," Portia says. She swings her fist against the copper plating, sounding three echoing strikes in a practised pattern. As the last echoes fade down an unseen hallway and within the castle walls, there is a click. Then another. Then another. With a low groan, the heavy doors swing inwards.

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#The Arcana #Julian Devorak #Asra Alnazar #Nadia Satrinava #lucio morgasson #portia devorak #julian devorak x mc #julian devorak x apprentice #The Arcana Julian Route

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