#Julian and the Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad Day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drustvar · 2 years

Text

The Lion’s Path: 5.1 Forewarning

A retelling of the Arcana Prologue featuring Rosie Springwald, a vindictive hedgewitch searching for herself. Thank you as always to @honeyfixations for beta reading!

WC: 1877

The start of Rosie’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

‘It’s the morning of the Masquerade announcement…’

Rosie hurried through the streets, the sky above was still a pale gray twilight.

‘But until noon, I have time...I need to stop by the shop. Herbs, reagents, one of Asra’s magic books…’

She hopped up the steps and pressed her hand to the door, undoing the locking spell. A small leather pouch that rested on the stoop caught her eye. She opened it, finding a herbal mixture inside. Myrrh was the most prevalent, but there were others too, all earthy and strong.

‘A protection sachet? ’ She clutched the bundle close to her chest, looking around. But nobody was there.

“Thank you, whoever you are,” she said quietly as she turned her keys in all the locks, and leaned on the door. As it swung open, she nearly fell on someone. Doctor Devorak stumbled backwards, catching her by her shoulders. The pouch of myrrh plopped onto the floor by her feet as she stumbled.

“Well, hello there. Fancy seeing you here. Ahem. Maybe not so surprising… I ah, I was in the neighborhood-”

“So you invited yourself in?”

Julian laughed nervously. “Ah! You look, er, splendid! Marvelous, even...You’re simply flourishing at the Palace. I’ll stop wringing my hands.”

Rosie fixed him with a narrow gaze. “How do you keep gettin’ in? I know I locked up everythin’ after the first time.”

“Or I’ve got a key,” he said sheepishly, and with a heavy sigh produced a tiny, faintly iridescent key from within his coat pocket. She held her hand out, waiting for him to hand it over. “Here. If it makes any difference, you can take it. I won’t be using it again. That’s...that’s a promise.”

“You’re welcome here, just gimme a warning first.” She murmured as she ducked under his arm and set her things on the counter. “Who gave you that key anyway?”

“You don’t….ahem, well, well… Let’s just say I needed to make a couple house calls. After hours.” Her eyebrows raised slightly.

‘House calls? After hours? Was Asra ever that sick? Was I?’ She frowned, her hands on her hips as she looked around the shop, scanning the shelves.

“Oh, I hope you don’t think I’m a thief. I’m a lot of things, but not that. But, you wouldn’t take my word for it, would you?” Julian shucked off his jacket and started to unbutton his waist coat.

“Wh-What the hell are you-?” He threw his waistcoat open with a flutter, arms outstretched, palms up in submission.

“Search me. If you find anything of yours, I’ll show myself to the stocks. Go ahead. Search until you’re satisfied,” he said, smirking as he presented himself.

“I-I-I If you took anythin’ you can keep it!” Rosie sputtered, her cheeks bright red.

“Oh? You sure? Well, all right...the offer stands. Besides, I won’t find what I’m looking for here. I know that now.” He said as he replaced his waistcoat and slung his jacket over his shoulders again. “Well, I’m sure you have things to do, so I’ll just be getting out of your way.”

“Wait!” Rosie darted in front of him, blocking the door. “I-I’m sure you already know but...Look. You gotta skip town. The Palace — they’re hunting you. They’re going to kill you. An’ I dunnae wanna see that…” Before he could respond, his eyes widened in shock as he stared over her shoulder. Portia stood in the doorway, equally as shocked. When she spoke, the word that escaped her was different; an unused voice from the depths of her heart.

“Ilya?” Portia rushed inside, all but tackling him.

“Portia?” Rosie asked in confusion, narrowly having avoided being bowled over.

“Ilya? Is that really you?” Portia asked, her eyes welling with tears. Her shaking hands cupped either side of his face. Julian’s eye started to shine wetly.

“It’s me.”

“You - you -you bastard! What are you doing here?! Out in the open? Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” Portia cried, all the love and hope that had previously filled her voice having shifted to anger and concern as she tugged sharply on his ear.

“You’ve grown up strong, Pasha,” He said with a wince.. “I’m...sorry I wasn’t there to see it.”

“Ohh, I’ll show you sorry! You unbelievable...Rosie!” Portia whirled around to her, still gripping Julian by his coat collar like a shamed dog.

“What the hell is going on?!”

“I-I...I’ll catch up with you later!” Portia said as she hurried past, hauling Julian behind her down a nearby alley.

‘What the hell was all that? ’ Rosie wondered, as she stared after them. She shook her head and trudged to the back room to start digging through Asra’s possessions. All the while she started to relax, soothed by his lingering energy.

‘I hope Portia’s okay,’ she thought as she hurriedly stuffed canisters of herbs and various crystals into her bag. ‘But where’s that book? Asra must have taken it with him.’ She huffed, and grabbed her things. As she locked everything back up she cast one last, worried glance toward the alley Portia and Julian had disappeared down.

——————————————-

Rosie hurried back through the streets, racing the sun as it climbed higher in the sky. A clock chimed the hour right as she skidded on her heels into the outskirts of the city square. It was already incredibly crowded, latecomers circling the perimeter of the crowd for a better view.

“Ahem! Hear ye, hear ye!” Portia’s voice rang out over the crowd. “This is an announcement from your Countess Nadia. On the anniversary of the passing of your beloved Count Lucio, the Countess will open the Palace gates. That’s right folks! All are invited not to mourn, but to celebrate the spirit of the dearly departed Count!”

Loud excitement rippled through the crowd. Rosie couldn’t help but smile when surrounded by so much joy. Her smile faded, however, as she smelled something familiar on the breeze : myrrh. The sachet flashed in her mind, and her eyes darted around the crowd before settling on a huge, hulking figure; standing in the shadow of a pillar. Despite the growing excitement in the square, there was an unmistakable aura of despair emanating from them.

“It’ll be a Masquerade like no other before! Spread the word, tell your friends! You won’t wanna miss this!” The crowd erupted into cheers, but Rosie’s full attention was on the stranger beginning to shuffle away down a side street. Their lumbering pace was easy to match, and she caught up with them halfway down the street.

“Hey, wait!” The stranger stopped and turned slowly, as if they dreaded seeing her.

“Blindly to the slaughter. Just like the rest of you.”

“What do you mean? Please, I’m no good with riddles.”

“It doesn’t matter what I say. My words won’t last. They never do.” They began to shuffle away once more. Rosie tilted her head, her brow furrowed.

“Did Asra send you? To leave the herbs?” She asked, following after them. They ignored her, seeming to pick up their pace. “Wait! Who are you?” She slid around a corner before they could vanish from sight. They stopped on the stairs, their back to her.

“Who are you? Why did you leave me those herbs?” With a start, they turned around, evidently frightened by her voice. Their tattered hood fell back, revealing the biggest man she’d ever seen.

“Look, I-” She took a step forward, her hand outstretched. The stranger took a step back, his broad shoulders almost scraping against the walls. “I just wanted to say-!” She followed after him, emerging into a bustling market.

“...thank you…” she said, her heart sinking as she scanned the crowd of shoppers. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted him warily skirting the edges of the market. He stopped by a narrow wooden pole, evidently trying to hide behind it.

“I can see you!” Rosie called, making a few shoppers look her way in surprise and confusion. As soon as she approached, the stranger began to lumber away again. He paused behind an apple cart, towering over it.

‘Is he trying to hide from me? ’

She paused and turned, pretending to look over various wares, all still watching him from the corners of her eyes; making sure he didn’t vanish as she edged closer. The only movement he made was to shuffle behind a stray dog, which promptly scampered away when Rosie suddenly charged at him. He froze, terrified and finally seeming to accept the futility of his escape attempts.

“Go away.”

“I just wanted to say thank you! For the sachet — You are the one who left it, right?”

“Yes. You’re welcome. Now go away.” He turned to shuffle away, but Rosie stepped in front of him.

“Well hang on, I wanna ask you somethin’.” His stormy eyes darted from side to side, seeming to debate if he should just run her over. “Do you know Asra?” He tensed, glowering down at her.

“Better than anyone.” The rumbling of his voice was irritated, but the look in his eyes was sincere.

“Did he send you to check on me?”

“.Yes. He’s my only friend.”

‘Oh, I guess...we might not be too different, then.’

“Well gee, me too! What a small world. We should be friends, then.”

“What? No. Why?”

“I...Well if we’re both friends of Asra, why not? We must have other things in common too, and I’d like it if we could be.”

“I don’t want another friend. Especially not you.”

Rosie flinched slightly. “Damn, that's fine, I guess. Have we met before, or somethin’?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re not friends.”

“Well, why not then?” She said as she crossed her arms. But before she could harass him further; someone shouted a warning, and she turned just in time to see a produce cart slam into her. She stumbled on the uneven cobblestones and swore as her bad leg gave out. When she got to her feet again, the stranger was gone. Her lip curled in frustration...but then suddenly, inexplicably, her frustration melted into confusion.

‘I went to the square for the announcement, and then...when and why did I come back to the marketplace?’

“Excuse me,” Rosie stopped, addressing a charm vendor. “I know this is strange to ask, but, was I just standing over there talkin’ to someone?”

“No, I don’t think so,” the charm vendor shook their head, “Are you alright, miss? That cart hit you pretty hard.”

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Rosie murmured, no less confused than before.

‘Strange...strange…’ she thought as she hurried off to catch up with Portia, despite the way her leg still throbbed with pain

When Rosie returned to the square, Portia was standing on top of the servants’ wagon, throwing flower petals and rice onto the rejoicing city square.

“Rosie, there you are! Would you look at this crowd? No incidents at the shop, I hope? Nothing out of the ordinary?” Portia asked as Rosie climbed into the wagon beside her.

“Uh,” Rosie noticed the look of desperation and conspiracy in Portia’s eyes. “Nope! Everythin’ quiet as a mouse,” she said, squeezing her hand comfortingly as the wagon lurched forward down the main road, ringing in the news of the Masquerade.

#rosie #rosie springwald #arcana #arcana prologue #portia #portia devorak #julian #julian devorak #muriel #muriel of the kokhuri #mine #Book 5: Rosie's terrrible not good very bad day sksksk

8 notes · View notes

retro-scorpio · 3 years

Text

The Arcana Meets The Devildom (Part One)

Fictional Backstory: Julian, Lucio, and Asra were in the magic shop because (MC) was teaching Lucio how to perform a basic teleportation spell while Julian and Asra were in a side room having tea and talking things through. Lucio’s attempt of the spell goes horribly wrong, and he, along with Julian and Asra, get transported from their world to a world of demons that aren’t exactly like the ones back home. With no immediate way to get back home, they’re stuck in the Devildom indefinitely.

Julian x The House of Lamentation

Lucifer: Julian recognizes nearly right away that Lucifer could be him in an alternate universe. Their fashion sense is essentially the same; they both struggle immensely with sleep due to work; they both like to kick back and relax with their favorite drink; and they both have a dramatic flair to them and a love of theatre. Obviously, there are some key differences as well, like how Lucifer is a sadist while Julian’s an masochist, plus the fact that Lucifer appears much more uptight than him. These things make Julian want to get to know Lucifer more and (perhaps) become friends with him. Lucifer, however, takes a while to warm up to Julian. Initially, he finds Julian to be too loud and reckless, especially when Julian’s around his brothers. He also refuses at first to accept the fact that he has anything in common with “that buffoon”, as Lucifer calls Julian during his first days in the Devildom (when his brothers are teasing him relentlessly about it). However, one late night conversation and a bottle of Demonus later (which Julian finds nearly as pleasurable as a Salty Bitters), the two men begin to grow close. Lucifer tries his best to help Julian get back to his own world, and in return Julian offers Lucifer his company during nights where they can’t fall asleep but are much too tired to work.

Mammon: Julian is very drawn to Mammon at first due to Mammon’s desire to party and let loose, but the longer he’s around the second-born, the more he sees that maybe Mammon isn’t the best influence (this opinion is partially influenced by the increased amount of time Julian spends with Lucifer). There’s nothing wrong with letting loose, but Mammon takes it a bit too far at times. However, Julian does see that Mammon does have a pretty big heart, even when he hides it under his sin of greed. So, instead of insulting him or punishing him for his wrongdoings, Julian takes the time to talk to Mammon and listen to him. Mammon finds this odd at first and isn’t the most open to sharing, but as Julian reveals parts of himself to him, he realizes that they each have insecurities about people not accepting them for who they are and feeling like they have to act a certain way in order to protect themselves from harm. Julian and Mammon essentially help each other work through and heal from past trauma.

Levi: Since video games (and gaming in general, unless you count drinking competitions) aren’t exactly commonplace in Vesuvia, Julian is fascinated by Levi’s collection. When he has a free moment, he will ask Levi all sorts of questions about technology and gaming. This throws Levi off guard at first, because he’s not used to people expressing interest in his hobbies. Once he gets used to Julian’s curiosity, though, he gets excited to talk to Julian and show him how to play some games. This becomes very apparent when Julian catches Levi rewatching The Tale Of The Seven Lords (TV series) and asks him if he can join him, because of course Levi couldn’t allow Julian to enter the series mid-season and mid-episode; they have to start from the very beginning so that Julian gets the entire picture. They also share a love of water, and they share their experiences with the liquid with each other (Julian focuses on his sea adventures and pirate days, and Levi talks more about creatures he’s come across and raised). Levi finds Julian’s love of leeches amusing.

Satan: The amount of books that Satan has in his possession overwhelms Julian at first, but he’s also impressed by Satan’s collection (the first words to leave Julian’s mouth upon seeing Satan’s books are, “You could open up a library!”) Due to the amount and variety of literature Satan has, Julian often swings by his room for research purposes, because somewhere in Satan’s vast collection/messy room, there are some books on world-hopping. Julian gets a little too curious by Satan’s books, and Satan has to keep an eye on Julian to make sure he doesn’t grab a cursed book by accident. Satan initially acts like he’s too good for Julian’s theatrics, but the longer Julian stays with them at the House, the more it becomes apparent that Satan loves hearing all about Julian’s adventures in Vesuvia. Satan may or may not begin writing down all of Julian’s tales in order to remember them for future reference.

Asmo: The moment Asmo lays eyes on Julian, he develops a HUGE crush on him. To Asmo, everything about Julian is perfect, from his roguish looks to his dramatic flair. Whenever he gets the opportunity, Asmo will pull Julian away from his brothers to spend as much time with him as possible, although he’ll often deflect his brothers’ teasing with statements such as, “Julian needs to unwind!” and “I have to get rid of the bags under his eyes!” (Asmo’s a terrible liar.) The bad news for Asmo is that Julian is completely oblivious to how he feels about him, despite the fact that everyone can see that Asmo has the hots for Julian (even Beel, who isn’t always receptive to those types of things). It’s not like Julian’s obliviousness is intentional, though; between his own insecurities and the fact that, at the end of the day, his main focus is to be able to go back home to Vesuvia, he’s not exactly attentive to who he may have attracted in the process. After a while, Asmo cannot keep his emotions towards Julian bottled up anymore, and so one afternoon, when they’re alone in his room on one of his spa days, he blurts out to the red-head that he has a crush on him. Julian lets him down easy, saying that, while he is flattered by the Avatar of Lust’s confession, his heart belongs to (MC) back to Vesuvia. Surprisingly, instead of throwing a fit, Asmo accepts the truth of the situation fairly quickly and actually keeps some of his flirty nature in check when he’s around Julian from that point forward. He still tries to have Julian join him on his spa days whenever possible, mainly so that Julian has a chance to relax properly.

Beel: There’s an unspoken connection that forms between Beel and Julian almost immediately (Belphie believes it’s because they’re both red-heads). In his quiet way, Beel will tear Julian away from his research if he’s been at it non-stop and get him to eat something, sometimes by gently coaxing his sin out of Julian if he’s particularly sucked into whatever he’s looking at. While he’s used to doing this gesture for his brothers (especially Lucifer and Satan), Beel kind of forgets at first that humans are easier to sway than demons, and so he needs to use less of his power in order to force Julian to eat. During his early days in the Devildom, Julian became so gluttonous that he not only ate everything in the House, but he also slammed down several large burgers at Hell’s Kitchen (Julian apologized profusely for this incident and offered to cook meals for everyone for the following week to make up for his mistake). In addition to eating, Beel will pry Julian out of the House and have his fellow red-head work out with him. They’re pretty comparable in size, and so Beel doesn’t have to hold back as much of his physical strength as he normally does around other demons (but he still holds back a little because Julian is still human, after all). Even though they may not speak about their personal lives a lot with each other when it’s just the two of them, Julian and Beel feel at ease with each other.

Belphie: To put it simply, in Julian’s eyes, Belphie is a god-send (he fully sees the irony of using that phrase to describe the youngest demon brother). When Julian is barely holding his head up after 24, 48, and even 72 hours of not being able to sleep, all Belphie has to do is to grab a pillow and blanket, get Julian comfortable on the nearest surface, and use the powers his sin has given him to make Julian fall asleep. Unlike his twin, Belphie picks up right away that he doesn’t have to exert a lot of power in order to get Julian to engage with his inner sloth in a healthy way; Julian always wakes up well-rested and recharged after a Belphie-induced sleep. The two of them will occasionally look up at the night sky together and talk about the different stars and constellations of the Devildom and Vesuvia, and when that topic of conversation runs dry, they’ll talk about all sorts of things, ranging from the best ways to prank Lucifer that will get the best reaction out of him to the trauma of losing a sister.

#the arcana #the arcana julian #julian devorak #the arcana ilya #ilya devorak #obey me shall we date #house of lamentation #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #the result of me playing the arcana first and obey me second

67 notes · View notes

blackthorngrey · 2 years

Text

masterlist (in progress)

note: this is a sideblog, i follow under an account beginning with the word ‘countess’

A03

Dead Men Tell No Tales (multi-chapter)

Kit Rook is an orphan; a street kid, living a life of theft and criminality to survive, whilst hiding a secret that could cost him his life and is currently costing him his sanity.

Ty Blackthorn is a pirate; belonging to the most notorious and infamous family to sale the seven seas- a ruthless killer that views the world differently than most, trying to figure out what sets him apart from the rest.

Bleed the Freak (1/1)

this was not good. kit knew that. in fact, he was royally fucked. the faerie knights vastly outnumbered him, even with his combination of shadowhunter training and faerie powers.

to escape this alive would be a miracle. kit thought it was impossible.

You’ll Always Be One of Us (1/1)

julian and kit’s conversation from this week’s sobh. from kit’s perspective.

Tiberius Blackthorn and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (multi-chapter)

ty was actually having a great day, thank you very much.

firstly, kit fucking herondale was in los angeles with jem and tessa for some form of mission.

secondly, dru knows about the failed necromancy attempt.

and thirdly, he had just bitten a fucking vampire.

maybe that last one would put a bit of a dampener on the week.

I Sat By the Ocean (1/1)

a kitty song fic based on ‘i sat by the ocean’ by queens of the stone age.

Resurrection (multi-chapter) (hogwarts au)

when livvy blackthorn is killed by a stray curse in a case of ‘wrong place, wrong time,’ her twin brother refuses to accept the permanence of death.

but the deeper ty becomes entwined with the dark arts, the further he strays from his original goal.

will his best friend be able to pull him from the depths of madness, or is ty doomed to madness and a fate similar to that of his sister?

Fic Snippets

one

two

Headcanons/ Theories/ AUs

kit’s features

what if the scholomance was more like a university

dru’s laces

lucifer making his grand debut

shadowhunters wiki unidentified snippet (ow)

general headcanons about kit and ty

potential stim?

i wish ty had killed annabelle

before kit became a petty criminal extraordinaire

tumblr kid kit herondale

songs that remind me of kit herondale

kit’s lineage

what if kit develops more faerie abilities/ traits

Incorrect TWP Quotes (but it’s things my friends have said)

one

two

Hogwarts AU

one

two

three

#ty blackthorn #kit herondale #the wicked powers #secrets of blackthorn hall #the dark artifices #the shadowhunter chronicles #twp #sobh #tda #kit x ty #tsc

18 notes · View notes

madllamamomma · 3 years

Text

The Visitor~ Part 6

Muriel x Rhemi (OC) fanfic

[WARNING: Some topics can be triggering to some readers including, mention of violence, blood/gore, mental health issues, abuse, etc.]

Part 6~

Ghosts~

In the palace, Sir Martin sits quietly in the green chair next to the fire. His daughter should be here any moment. The cracking of the burning wood alway relaxed him, eventually making his eyes heavy… Soon he drifts to sleep.

As he opens his eyes, he finds himself sitting on an old rickety chair that looks like it's about to break at any moment. With an annoyed scoff, his eyes look around, he is in a terribly drabby house, full of holes in the straw roof where the sunlight shines through and mice hide in the walls. He always hated this place--Despised is more like it. He absolutely hated when his dreams would drift him back here to this often empty house. But then, she walks into the room, her hands full with the heavy laundry basket… His hatred drifted away.

She was a beautiful young woman, no older than eighteen, her hair s burgundy brown and curly, pulled back into a handkerchief and her gorgeous teal blue eyes and wearing commoner’s clothes with a dingy apron around her waist. Just like always, she acted like it was just another ordinary day and as cheery as ever.

“Well! Good morning, my little rabbit.” She says with a smile as she sits and folds the laundry.

“..... Morning.” Martin gently replies, unable to keep his eyes off of her.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

He swallows hard and shakes his head. He knows this is just a dream. “Why… Why does this keep happening?”

For a moment she stops folding, and looks up at him with such gleaming and loving eyes, tilting her head and looking at Martin with such concern.

“Why here?.... Why this moment?” He frustratedly mutters. “And not any other moment. Just…. This. One?”

The young woman sighs and lightly shrugs, shaking her head. “... You tell me, little rabbit.”

Martin tries to stand up from his chair, but like always, he is stuck in one place. Angry, he tries and tries but something is keeping him here in this one spot.

“You know that doesn’t help any.” She says sadly. “It never has…”

A deep sigh expels from his lungs again as he finally accepts his situation and his eyes peer back to the young woman, pain in his cold teal eyes. “..... Why didn’t you just stay home that day?” He asks with gritted teeth and folded hands. “I... I told you not to go.”

Tears start to well in her eyes as she looks at him silently, slowly standing to her feet. The house just evaporates, replaying it with a foggy gray atmosphere. “Why didn’t you come with me?” She whispers as her feet lift off the ground.

An eerie high pitch ringing overwhelming his ears as she keeps staring at him as she stops levitating about three feet from the ground. A terrifying crack emanates from her neck as it snaps quickly to the right.

Martin shutters stifling his tears, shutting his eyes tightly and turning his head away from the horror. But suddenly feels himself waking up from the warm licks from Beatrix’s tongue.

------

Fluttering his eyes open, he finds Beatrix in his lap, looking at him slightly concerned. “Little Piegon’s here, Master.” Her scratchy voice mutters in his head.

Martin rubs his tired eyes, and smoothing back his plum and gray hair. “Thank you, Bea.”

Waiting patiently, Martin stares into the fire, in deep thought, wondering why his dreams keep taking him to that dreadful day. If it wasn’t that dream, it was always about Florence and Rhemielia. The night that she and their child were whisked away. All the while he was trapped underneath a pile of fiery debris, and his skin burning his right arm.

---------- Later that day-----

As Rhemi steadily makes her way back to the shop, taking three times as long. Her lack of oxygen is taking its toll on her. “This….. fucking thing!….” She huffs to herself, gasping for air in between her thoughts as she takes a seat on a nearby barrel. “...*huff* Fuck….*huff*.... This…*huff*...*huff*..... Corset!”

After getting adequate rest, she stands to her feet and clasps the small part of her waist feeling the corset digging into the tops of her hip bones.

“... Fuck this dress. Fuck that Oliver guy. Fuck this day...” She grumbles to herself under her breath, attempting to ignore all the wide eyed stares from the citizens she passes, hoping that no one would recognize her. “Fuckthisfuckthisfuckthisfuckthisfuckthisfuckthis….” She grumbles to herself, face beat red. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.”

Finally, the shop was within her sight as the sun was setting over the city. It took so long to get here! Rhemi thinks to herself, realizing that the lamplighters are hard at work lighting the dark streets. She left the palace around three o’clock, it's probably almost five or so now. If anything came out of this, it’s respect for the poor aristocrats in Charlès who actually wore this stuff on the regular bases! Why would anyone want to wear this stuff everyday? Did Mum really wear this crap? This is awful!

Opening the door to the shop never felt so good. God, I can’t wait to get inside! I am so happy to be home. She rejoiced in her head. Finally home! Three different voices muffled on the other side of the door. Rhemi knew right away who they all belonged to. Then, a horrible thought comes to mind as she turns the key in the lock after taking down the protection spell. ….Oh no….. Oh god!.... What the hell are they gonna say about this abomination??

Then again…. she was so tired at this point, she didn’t really care. The pain of the corset outweighed the pain of her friend's judgement. With as much air as she could fill in her restricted lungs, she bravely opens the door, all three pairs of eyes immediately falling on her.

Asra excitedly starts to greet his friend with a brilliant smile. “Hey! There she is! Welcome…” But then stops as he sees her, his eyes wide, his smile crumples into a shocked snicker.

The lively chattering that filled the room suddenly ceases, the only thing that can be heard is the creaking of the rusty hinges of the shop door as it shuts behind her.

Awkwardly, Rhemi just stands in the doorway as Asra, Faust, Muriel, and Julian just stare at her. None of them could help but stifle their laughs at the overly fluffy dress that she’s wearing.

Julian opens and closes his mouth attempting to formulate a sentence.“That's… errr….. It’s… Ummm-aahhhhh..” He stammers as he rubs his face, searching for a compliment. But of course, Asra stands next to him, covering his smile with his clasped hands and eyes wide, his thoughts very apparent.

Looking silently between them all, realizing that they were trying to be as kind about it as possible. “.... It’s fucking atrocious, isn’t it?” Rhemi finally verbally admits with a half straight face.

“It’s a goddamn travesty is what it is.” Asra spits out as soon as she completes her sentence. All four of them stand there silently all waiting how’d be the first to crack.

Suddenly, all of them sputter into hard laughter at the same time, breaking the terrible silence.

“My god!.... What the hell is this thing anyways??” Julian adds overdramatically gesturing to the hips. “Rhemi-dear, are you wearing ….crinoline??”

“... Crino-What??” Muriel mumbles as he squints his eyes.

“It’s a type of tortuous device placed under dresses that a deranged idiot designed to make your hips look inhumanly large.” She replies nonchalantly as attempts to reach back for the buttons, trying to contort herself to do so. But, try as she might, the poor apprentice couldn’t reach without completely tearing the sleeves. However, as stubborn as she is, she continues to try to reach in hope to get out of this over-tightened corset. All at the same time, Muriel, Asra, and Julian try to figure out the reason why she’s wearing the damn overly extravagant monstrosity.

“....There are… So… many bows….” Muriel mutters as tugs at one to study it, seemingly not liking the texture and his face hilariously cringing hard.

“Oh… I know!….. It’s bad, huh, Muri?”

“Reallllllly bad.”

“Did you lose a bet, Rem?” Asra teases, still laughing his ass off.

“Nooooooo,” A whine emanates from her mouth and her bottom lip pops out. Despite her cute pout, the corner of the lips still twist up into a grin making her slightly look like a duck. Slightly frustrated, but also entertained by her stupid situation, she sighs deeply and slouches as much as she could (given her restrictive outfit).

About having enough of trying, she huffs feeling rather defeated, but still smiles at her friends. “If you three are gonna keep dishing out colorful insults, you might as well help me out of it... I can’t freakin’ breathe!”

“... Yo-... You can’t get out by yourself, Rem??” Muriel snorts, forcefully hiding a very amused smile, trying to politely withhold a bellowing laugh at her situation. “Sorry… It’s not funny.” He mumbles as he presses his lips together even tighter.

“Do you really think I would have come home with this... thing if I could take it off myself?? It took… like…. Five people to get me in this abomination!”

“Are you.... Errr…. Decent underneath all of it?” Julian warily asks, his eye quickly glancing towards Muriel while he wasn’t looking.

“Don’t worry Ilya, you’ve seen more at the beach. I have a shift or… or slip…? -Whatever it’s called under the corset.” Say says lifting up the dreaded skirt showing the many layers of cloth on her body. “Pft! This bitch has so many layers, it puts our wedding cake to shame.”

“Oh god.” Muriel chuckles, his laughter making his broad shoulder shake, not doing a very good job to keep it in.

“Ohhh! Shut your face!” Rhemi playfully smacks her finacè’s stomach. “Now, please! Get me out of this damn thing! I feel like my boobs are suffocating me! Do you guys want me to die from titty asphyxiation?!”

“I’d argue that it wouldn't be a bad demise!” The doctor chuckles with his dubious smile of his.

“Shuddup Ilya!” Rhemi playfully elbows her friend, slightly knocking the wind out of him.

But he continues to laugh and laugh,as he holds his stomach nearly hyperventilating. “..We-.... We’ll write on your tombstone, ...‘Here lies Rhemi… Escaped death once from the plague to die from a common corset.’..”

Asra chortles, nearly crying now as Faust happily hisses, “Rhemi a tent!”

Out of the sea of laughter, Rhemi finds herself feeling more light headed, unable to contain her giggles either. “Hey! Less talkie, more unbutton-ie! I am literally dying over here! I am not joking when I said that I nearly passed out a few times over here. I left around three!”

The mountain man’s face suddenly becomes more serious as she says that, his laughter completely silenced “Wait…. Really?? Are… you ok?”

“I mean… I made it here, didn’t I?” She says with a shrug and a half grin.

A warm grumble rumbles from his lips as he mutters, “That’s not…”

“—Alright, alright, alright! Turn around, ya big baby.” Asra teases her, finally feeling pity for her. “Let’s get you out of this thing… Then we’ll have a bonfire. Haha!”

It took some time, but after some troubleshooting and a bit of magic, the three managed to peel the dress, the extra layers, and the crinoline off, leaving only her tight overbust, and a shift underneath. With surgical hands, Julian and Asra loosened the loops.

Finally, the corset was loosened, Rhemi took in a large breath of fresh air as if she had just made love. “Ahhhhhhhh~ Sooooo much better.”

“Better wait a few minutes before loosening it again.” Julian adds with a serious doctor face. “Don’t want you actually passing out.”

“Tha-that's a thing that can happen??” A very wary Muriels asks.

“Why, yes! If you let it out too quickly, you can pass out… Your blood pressure can drop and leave a person unconscious. Happened a few times to the actors at the theater.”

“That's….. Worrisome.” Muriel says as his eyes fall on his fiancée again, and pointing to the corset. “You never told me these things were hazardous.”

Unable to contain herself, Rhemi takes her lover’s large hand and holds it with both of hers with an empathetic expression. He’s so cute. “Aww! I never wear them this tight, honey! I like the way my corsets look and feel on my body. But this one is garbage!”

“Actually it’s not that bad.” Julian says peeling away the cloth and exposing the boning structure underneath. “.....It’s made out of whale bone! It’s expensive and very strong. It’s just not your size.”

“Oh! Speaking of expensive, that reminds me.” Julian takes out Rhemi’s coin purse and hands it back to her, only a few coins used. “I believe this belongs to you.”

It takes a few moments before she realizes that the doctor never used her money last night, she instantly pouts. “Ilya!! You’re drinks were supposed to be on me you dork!”

“Rhemi-dear, what happened at tea the other day was not your fault!”

You mean ‘what my father said’. She thinks to herself. “But— My father— it wasn’t right what he—”

“—You can’t control what that basta—.. dahhhhhhh errrrrr... I mean…. What he says.”

“... Nice save.” Asra whispers to his lover.

“I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I am. I… I kinda regret inviting him. Tea was just so awkward. It should have been just us, like Nadia planned it.”

Julian wraps his long arms around Rhemi’s shoulders for a friendly hug. “Please don’t apologize. I’ve honestly heard worse.”

“I’m still sorry it happened.”

“Hey, don't worry about it. It’s not worth it.” He then moves his arm and takes a seat in the velvet couch never to Asra, causing them to lazily lean on his shoulder. Slowly, Faust slithers over to Julian and he tries his best not to get chills. “So…. Ahhhh… Ya gonna tell us why you are wearing this….. Errr…. getup?”

“... My father apparently brought his own tailor on board with him… Names Oliver… real piece of freakin’ work!... My father wanted him to give the dress as a present to me. It’s apparently the latest fashion from Charlès… All the noble women wear something like it.”

“..... Sooooo… I assume that he didn’t take it too well that you two aren’t moving to Charlès.” Asra asks, handing her own clothes to her so she could get comfortable.

“Wait, he wanted you both to move??” Julian cluelessly interjects with his left eye wide.

An intense pressure suddenly overtakes Rhemi’s stomach as if gravity doubled on her intestines. How the hell is she supposed to explain what happened today? Not only did her father still want her to leave Vesuvia, but he wants her alone to move and marry someone of nobility in Charlès!

“....Actually, he was very understanding.” She flat out lies before she could stop herself.

Rhemi, what are you doing?? She screams internally. Why are you lying again?!

“... He was of course disappointed, but he was very respectful about it!” She continues as if her mouth had a mind of its own, her body posture scarily calm and believable. “... But it’s best not to mention it to him… He’s still very disappointed. Might spark a nerve with him. Ya know?”

Asra and Julian exchange a surprised look as they hear this. Julian rubs the back of his hand and sighs, “He doesn’t seem to be the understanding type--”

“—Well, he might surprise you.” Rhemi defensively interrupts. “He might be very posh and rigid on the outside…. But I know, deep down he just cares about me.”

Muriel stares down at her with his knowing emerald eyes completely unconvinced as she walks past him to head upstairs to get changed. She dared not look at him for too long. He had a way of making her break. But how could she explain this to him? To…. well, anyone?? Her father didn’t even acknowledge that she was getting married.

No. She just…. Has to fix this before anyone knows. She had to.

———————

After Rhemi got dressed, the four of them all had a nice dinner that Muriel and Asra whipped up. It was chicken souvlaki wrapped in a pita and other greens.

After that, the two couples went their separate ways for the night. Asra and Julian stayed at the shop, while Rhemi and Muriel went back home to the hut.

She feared that he might bring up what she said before dinner, about her father accepting thor decision not to leave. He always knows when she’s bullshitting. That's the problem when you get to know someone so well. It's a sixth sense, knowing something is wrong.

But to her surprise, he stayed quiet. She reads a book on the bed as he whittles next to Inanna by the fire. Eventually, her eye starts to become heavy and she shuts her books and gets into her nightgown. Muriel follows her lead. Soon, all three get comfortable in the bed, taking their normal positions. Rhemi on the left side of the bed, Muriel at the right, and Inanna at the foot. The apprentice always laid on his bare chest snuggling up and getting warm.

“I love you, Muriel.” She whispers.

Muriel yawns, “... I love you too, Rhemi…” Thinking he's drifting off to sleep, she starts to close her eyes as well and feel herself falling asleep. “.... Was he really okay with us not moving?” He finally whispers.

Rhemi's heart drops, but she just stays there silent and still, pretending to be asleep.

The hermit lets out a frustrated sigh, before placing a feather light kiss on her forehead. “.... Please just don’t forget I want you to talk to me.”

….. I know…. She thinks to herself. I want to tell you. But… I’m scared that might make things worse. I’m sorry, Muri. I don’t want to lie to you… But I have to fix this by myself before you know the truth.

Finally, all of them start to drift to sleep, Muriel finds himself in the realm of dreams, his father waiting for him yet again, waiting to show him what he was capable of in the realm of dreams.

All the while Rhemi stays put, in a dreamless state, but finds herself waking up almost every hour from a twinging pain in her temples. She could swear she was hearing distant voices.

———The next morning———

A very groggy Rhemi finally wakes up from the sun peering into the window. Sitting up, in the bed, she realized that Muriel and Inanna were already up and started the day. Glancing over to the table, some fresh flowers and herbs were waiting for her and a note that read, "Get some rest." She couldn’t help but smile despite feeling so terrible. The headaches are getting worse and worse lately. Even when she wakes up, it's like a hammer is knocking on the side of her temples. Luckily, it would dissipate as the day went on, but it was such a nuisance to start off the day like this. At least she didn’t have any dreams last night…

Slowly, she gets up and walks over to the washing washing bowl, trying to get more energized for the day. This was one of her installations when she moved into the hut. It was a little table (taller than most for her sweet Muriel) with a washing bowl, a pitcher and a mirror from the shop. It must have been her mother’s. It was the one thing that didn’t necessarily match the other decor from the shop. Pouring a liberal amount of freshwater, she starts washing her face. The cool water felt nice on her temples. As she glances back up to the mirror to make herself look more alive, she notices someone behind her.

Summoning her magic quickly into her hands, she conjures a defensive spell as she whips around silently. But as soon as she turns around, no one is there. The door is locked, and she can still hear Muriel cutting wood. “.... Must have been my imagination.”

Turning back to the mirror yet again to look at her reflection. But instead of her own face, she sees her eyes bloodshot red and short hair, her expression bleak and sad.

“.... Headache again?” A voice mumbles to her sadistically from the reflection.

“AHHHHH!!!” Shocked, Rhemi yelps a terrified scream, punching the mirror out of instinct. The vision and the pieces of glass shatter into pieces. Immediately, she regretted her reaction. She tucks her hand into her chest in pain, her knuckles bloody, and the mirror is broken. Looking at the shards on the ground, all she can see is her own reflection in the small fragments. What… what the fuck was that?

“RHEMI?!” Muriel cries out from behind the hut.

“.... Shit….” Quickly Rhemi jumps up and carefully takes the mirror off the wall and places it on the floor to make it look like it just fell down. The last thing she wanted was to think that she was losing her mind. Besides, people see things all the time, it doesn’t mean you're crazy… right??

“RHEMI !” Muriel shouts as he bursts in the hut, his large ax still in hand. As soon as he sees the blood, his eyes get even wider and swirling with fear. “Y-... You’re bleeding!”

“Ahhh!” She shouts, waving her hand to keep him away. “Don’t let Nana in here! T-There's glass everywhere!”

Examining the damage, Muriel shakes his head bewildered. “Rem... What happened?”

“... Ohhmygosh!! HaHa! So dumb!... Completely my fault! I was trying to straighten the stupid mirror and I apparently…. It fell off the nail! I… I didn’t catch it in time and it broke, and I screamed.”

He starts to slightly relax, but still looks pretty anxious. “.... You okay?”

“Yeah! I just cut myself a little on the glass is all! Just a little scratch, nothing I can’t fix~!”

Taking a single step inside he sets the ax down outside and reaches his hand for her. “.... Let me at least help—”

“It’s fine, Love!” She says as she conjures her magic to clean the pieces up and place them back into the mirror. “See? No problem!”

Begrudgingly he huffs, and starts to step out of the doorway before pausing. “.... Get dressed. I’ll make breakfast. You just …. sit…. alright?.... Don’t go near anything breakable…. Or sharp.” He grumpily instructs.

She snickers and nods her head. “Okay.”

As soon as the door shuts, her smile falls and she stares at her knuckle so she could heal it. Luckily, it wasn’t very deep, however it was a little long. She sits down at the table, taking a little piece of herb and summoning her magic, she starts mending her skin together. After it was all healed up a very small scar was left. It should dissipate after a while. But she just stares at it for a moment.

“Get it together, Rhemi.” She mumbles to herself as she stands to her feet to get dressed.

There's too much going on today for this bullshit. She had a plan for her father to get on board with her getting married.

--------

After a delicious breakfast, and a few sweet kisses, Muriel and Rhemi part for the day. Making her way to the shop, she concocks the perfect plan.

As expected, the shop was open and ready for business, usually Asra at the counter with a book or a potion, but today the white haired gender bastard was nowhere in sight, and the shop appeared empty.

“Hello??” She calls out. “Asra?? Faust?? You home?”

“Oh! Morning, Rhemi.” He greets from the back next to the stairs.

Realizing his location she strolls to where he was sitting on the ground and she takes off her bag. “.... Good morning. What the heck are you doing back there, ya weirdo?”

“Refusing to accept defeat.” He chuckles, wiping a little bit of sweat on his forehead. In front of him was a large chest oozing with magic and locked up tight. It read, ‘Fragile: Please handle with care’ in a familiar handwriting. In his right hand was the bundle of rusty old keys.

Curious, Rhemi tilts her head and folds her arms. “What is this?”

“Found this…” He grunts as he attempts to force another key into the lock. “... Chest… under the stairs the other day…. And…. I think it belonged to Athena…. *grunt* but no matter what I doooo…” With a heavy sigh, he gives up on that key, pulls it out of the lock and nearly collapses on his elbows. “... The damn thing won’t open. I have tried opening it with magic, I have tried every key in the shop--twice now--Hell! I even tried using a crowbar! But... nothing.”

“Huh….” She mutters. Rhemi kneels down next to her friend and the chest. Both of them stared at it for a moment. “... Well… Obviously it’s got a powerful spell on it. Athena didn’t want anyone in it.”

“Yeah… Even in death, that woman had out magic us.” The two of them giggle together on the floor. Asra draps his arms over his knees and he smiles, his mind wondering into nostalgically territory. “... I miss her.” He mumbles under his breath.

“.... I do too.” The apprentice says with a heavy heart, resting her head on his shoulder. “I…. I wish she could be here… See how much we both grew up…”

"Me too..."

The two stay there for a moment, taking it all in. The sound of the bedroom door closing at the top of the stairs brings them back to reality and Julian’s long legs descend the stairs.

“Oh! Morning, Rhemi-dear!” He says with a chipper tone.

She rolls her eyes at that name, but at this point, she just learned to accept it. “Well good morning to you too…. Someone slept in late…It’s nearly ten o’clock.” She teases.

“HA. Well…. Something kept me up all night..” The doctor glances at Asra with pink staining his cheeks and a cute smirk.

Asra smiles wide, proudly he glances back over to his friend, cheekily placing his finger to his chest. “Tee-hee…. I’m ‘something’.”

Jokingly disgusted, she pushes Asra making him nearly fall over. “EWWW! Grosssssss! You two are terrible!” She laughs.

“Oh… like you and Muriel aren’t disgusting too??”

“I am not responding to that!” She loudly announces as she walks up the stairs, her face turning slightly pink herself. “I’m making some tea, don’t leave just yet Ilya!”

“Ohhhh, well ahhh.. alrighty then! If I… ahh….. If I must.” Julian happily replies as he helps Asra back to his feet. Promptly the white-haired magician presses his lips on his collar bone.

While the teapot starts to heat up, Rhemi realizes that she really didn’t have time to go to the palace or have someone deliver a message for her father. Staring at the spigot and it gives her an idea and is a good reason to flex her magical muscles. Grabbing a large bowl, she fills it with water and closes her eyes. Using all her concentration, she reaches out, searching for her father’s magic. Finally, she feels that strange metallic aura and she opens she can see her reflection being replaced with her father’s.

“Père!” She calls out.

Confused, Martin looks away towards what she could only assume was the door. “..... Miela?” He mutters.

“Good morning, Père~” She sweetly giggles. Something about surprising another magician always made her a little giddy.

Her father turns his head once again, his eyes scanning the room. “I… I hear you Pigeon, but…. Where are you??”

“Down here!” She instructs. “In the water!”

Turning desperately left and right, he shakes his head. “The… water?” Finally he locates her and he stares in astonishment. “Ahhhhh…?”

Beatrix’s hissing and Bartholomew’s voice could be heard in the background. “.... Monsieur, vous allez bien?”

“Oh… yes. Um…. Why don’t you be a good lad and step outside, Bartholmew.”

“....Ahhh…. Oui, Monsieur.” His butler replies soundly utterly confused. "I will leave you alone with your...ah.... tea... then."

Calmly, Martin looks into his tea cup. “... Rhemielia, my child. What are you doing in my tea?”

“Kinda neat isn’t it? Asra taught me this one a while back.”

With a straight face, he slowly blinks, seemingly unimpressed. “.... Hmmmm…. Very… Charming, I suppose… I won’t recommend it in Charlès though. This is how you’d get a bad reputation for being a witch.”

“Oh….” The excitement and glee once again stomped out. But… I kinda am a witch. Awkwardly, she clears her throat, brushing off his words. “Well, ah….anyways, I contacted you this way to ask you something.”

“Oh?”

“I have to do something today next to the palace. Are you busy this afternoon around three o’clock?”

“Hmm… No… I don’t believe I am.” He says while pondering hard and tapping the tea cup.

“Well, how about you meet me there. I think you’d really enjoy it.”

A genuine soft smile takes over the Archimagister’s lips and he takes a seat on a chair. “... I always enjoy being with you, my little pigeon.”

Rhemi grins happily when he says that. He had a habit of making her feel bad sometimes, but he also could make her feel glad that he’s in her life again. Her heart flutters with excitement. She quickly gives him the address, before she could make a little small talk, the tea kettle starts to whistle and the two say their goodbyes for now.

The day went on like it did every Monday. The shop was pretty busy in the late morning and the afternoon. Mostly it was regulars getting their positions, and other things they needed before the rest of the week went on. But for Rhemi the day just dragged on. Today was the last fitting of her wedding dress. Surely, he wouldn’t be so set on her going to Charlès if he saw her in it. The dress was beautiful a-line with a button-up bodice in the back, with illusion sleeves covered in beautiful lace and organza material.

After what felt like an eternity, the time came for her fitting. Before she leaves, she pops her head into the reading room where Asra was looking at his cards by himself. It’s odd, it felt like she could hear the King of Pentacles whispering to him.

As she went for the door, she ran her fingers over the chest feeling Athena’s magic somehow felt so comforting to her. She always had a strong aura. A strange clunk comes from behind her. She glances back to inspect what had made the noise, but the chiming of the clock deters her. Whatever it is, it can wait.

_______________________________

As she reaches the tailor’s shop, she notices her father making his way down the street. His nose was buried into the piece of paper with the address on. Again, no Beatrix. It’s old how empty his shoulders looked without her.

“Père!” Rhemi calls out, waving to him.

Ungluing his eyes from his paper as she calls his name, he grins and waves back.

“How are you today?” His daughter asks sweetly.

“Very good thank you.” He replies looking at his pocket watch. As soon as he picks up his head, he reads the sign, Seamless: Pierre’s Clothing. “Oh…. You do realize I have a tailor already, correct?”

She can't help but chuckle at his unamusement as she opens the door. “I know that. This one is mine... Well, actually it's Nadia's, I'm just borrowing him.”

Martin’s eyes narrow as he enters the shop. The windows are full of outlandish and extravagant dresses and suits, but in the Vesuvian style. The old magician just sneers in revolt. “Ohhh?... Pardon me, my sweet, but I am confused...”

“I’m about to try my wedding dress on.” Martin’s body stiffens like a board and he flutters his eyes in disbelief. Rhemi could feel her cheeks heating up and feeling pressure on her chest. “And….. I uh… I wanted you to be here for my final fitting… Get you more involved… I want you to be apart of my life and--”

“—Sorry." He interrupts placing both of his hands on his cane, sticking his nose up in revolt. "Please don't tell me you were serious when you said you are going to marry that seven foot tall brute—?”

“—Muriel, Père…” Rhemi quickly interjects in disbelief. She could feel her left eyelid twitch from the stress. She just couldn’t believe him. This shit again?? Right here?? RIGHT NOW? Calmly, she folds her hands together trying to keep her patients. “.... My fiance's name is Muriel. It means 'bright' in Rune…. And yes. I am marrying him. He’s kind and genuine and trustworthy and gentle and makes me feel safe and…. And I love him.... He's my soul mate.”

Martin’s icy glare somehow gets colder and she shakes his head and scoffs. “... Hmmmm… love... What good has it ever done...”

“... What do you mean by that?... You said you fell in love with Mum.”

His nostrils flare in frustration. “.... Rhemielia. My child. All I’m trying to say is that you barely know this man. How long have you met him? A year or so ago?”

“Well…. yes… but how long did you know Mum before you married her?”

As soon as he opens his mouth wider about to argue back, Pierre walks in with a cheerful smile. “Ah! Rhemi! So good to see you!! Are you ready to see your lovely gown?”

Martin pats Rhemi’s head and she cringes to herself yet again. “We’ll speak of this later—no need to make a scene, do we now?” He says leaning into her ear and whispering. “In the meantime, go ahead. Go on and play dress up like you used to when you were a child.”

Her eyelid twitches even more as she strains to keep a fake smile on her lips. “I not playing dress—”

“Rhemi!!!!” Suddenly Agrippa and Portia burst through the door with happy smiles, excited for the final fitting. As soon as they both notice Sir Martin, their smiles dwindle slightly, but they still keep their cheery demeanor for the occasion.

For once, Rhemi was happy to change the subject, pretending that her father didn’t say what he did. “Ippa! Pasha!”

“I am sooooo excited!!!”

“Me too! Pierre is ready and— Wait… Where’s Julian?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Rem. He had an emergency at the clinic…” Portia says finally letting her smile fall.

“That kid from the orphanage….. What's his naaaammmme—?”

“Zachary?”

Agrippa snaps their fingers agreeing with their partner. “Yeah! He broke his arm today.”

“Holy crap!! Not Zack! Is he okay??”

“Oh yeah! He’s getting loads of attention and is making jokes as we speak! Those kids are resilient, he’ll be just fine!”

“As long as he stops climbing tall shit that is.”

“….Well that stinks that Julian can’t be here, but he can help that!... I’m happy you both could make it though!”

Suddenly, Sir Martin clears his throat to interrupt their conversation looking at his pocket watch and tapping it. “Excuse me ladies and….. Sir???”

Agrippa blankly stares at him with a small growing smile. “.... Which one do you think it is?”

Martin stares back trying not look so confused as he really was. But instead of answering, he just clears his throat once more, tucking his pocket watch back into his vest and looking the other way. “... Not all of us have all day to dawdle.”

Taking the hint, the four of them follow Pierre to the back and make their way to the back. Excited, Portia and Rhemi head to the back changing room. Pierre gives them the gown in order for the maid of honor to know how to help with the dress the day of the wedding (bustles and all).

It fits like a glove. Ecstatic and hopelessly excited, Rhemi nearly skips out of the back to show off her beloved dress.

Portia and Agrippa both hold back their tears as she twirls around happily. “Oh, little bean!!” Agrippa mutters sniffling hard.

Rhemi spins around, clapping her face and her eyes start to water up as well and she smiles stupidly. “Ohhhhhh, you two stop!!! You both said you wouldn’t cry!”

“I know, I know! But you are just so….. So—” Portia says, whipping a tear away.

“—Tch. Please…. don’t lie to her.” Martin grumbles his left hand pitching the bridge of his nose.

Portia and Agrippa stare at the Archmagister in utter shock. “Umm... Excuse me?” Portia asks with her brow furrowed. “What exactly do you mean?”

“Well, that dress is all wrong, of course.” He huffs irritatedly, uncrossing his legs and standing to his feet.

Rhemi’s heart starts to sink into her chest. “What’s…. what’s wrong with it?” She asks, looking down and lifting up some of the skirt with her hands, unable to see the defects.

“That dress makes you look like a dirty commoner, Pigeon…. It looks more like a used napkin than a gown, don't you think? And what a dreadful color.”

“But… But I…. I am a commoner. A-and… I don’t like whi-…..” The words die in her throat as her attention diverts to the back of the room.

Somehow a person who came out of nowhere is standing directly behind her father in the back—But it isn’t a customer…. Her sick crimson eyes staring at her with a desperate looking expression. Why is she here?? Am… Am I going insane? As soon as Rhemi closes her eyes again, she vanishes, but it still frightens her.

“...Wh-white..” She finally finishes muttering, still staring in the back where the figure once stood.

It was…. Herself. The ghost of her former self that keeps popping up in her dreams. The same person in her reflection the other day. Her sick bloodshot eyes, yellow tainted skin and the stench of cremated ashes. Clearly, no one else can see her, or smell the terrible scent of death.

Quickly, she’s snapped back to reality as soon as her fathers speaks again and she looks back down at her gown. “....Please…” He scoffs, pitching the bridge of his nose. “...It looks like a rag—and for gods’ sake—Why is it blush?? Virgins are supposed to wear white—“

“——Okaaaaaay! Rhemi let's get you out of your beautiful dress so the poor tailor can finish the hem, okay?” Portia quickly and skillfully interrupts, smacking her hands together with a large fake grin. She nearly pushes Rhemi to the back room to change out of it.

Portia grumbles under head breath, helping her get back into the changing room. “What the fuck is that guy’s—” Words fail her as soon as she notices her friend’s tears in her eyes and the sorrow filled look in her face. “Oh… no, Rem!” Hastily, she hands her a tissue before her makeup runs.

“It just…. So much is happening….. And…. He- ...He thinks it ….lo- looks bad….” Rhemi sniffles, trying to keep the tears from falling, her nose and lips starting to crinkle back. “Is-is it really that bad??”

Portia is quick to embrace her upset friend and hug her tightly. “No, no, no…. He’s wrong, Rem. You look gorgeous! He doesn’t know the hell he’s talking about! I mean, the guy wears an ugly ass cape for god sakes! If anything he’s a walking fashion nightmare! All he’s missing is the stupid puffy pants and a fourteen foot stick up is ass!” Slowly, she pulls away and wipes the tears from her friend's eyes comfortingly. “Please don’t cry, Rhemi. You really do look amazing. Agrippa, Pierre, Nadia, and I would have told you if it didn’t!... Please, don’t let this jerk make you think otherwise.”

“I don’t think he was trying to be a jerk… he was just telling me how he felt… I mean… I asked him what he thought after all…. and….. h-his opinion is v-valid.”

Portia flutters her eyes and shakes her head baffled. Rhemi is usually a pretty good judge of character, yet anytime anyone says anything bad about the Archmagister, she denies it, or makes excuses. “Rhemi….. Why do you keep defending this guy?! All he’s done is been rude and disregards everyone’s feelings.”

Rhemi stifles and quickly wipes her nose with a handkerchief, refusing to look Portia in the eye. “.... H-... He’s my father.”

“Yeah! One that you just mee—” Portia suddenly stops herself, pressing her lips tightly together and slightly shakes her head. Perhaps now isn’t the time. Rhemi isn’t seeing this man for what he is. Thoughtfully she starts to speak again. “...Look… all I’m saying is that no matter who this person is to you, no one should make you cry and make you feel like shit in your wedding dress.”

Rhemi fiddles with her fingers, not very convinced. “B… But what if he’s right?”

The Devorak sister takes a large breath, pushing down the urge to go back and knock the wind out of that plum haired asshole. But as calmly as she could she takes both of her friend’s hands and asks, “Rem. Sweetie. Do you love this dress?”

Sheepishly her friend replies, “... Y-... yes….”

“Does it make you feel all happy and warm inside when you put it on?”

“Uh- huh….”

“Do you feel amazing when you’re in it??”

“Y-... yeah…I do....”

“Then forget what he said! It makes you feel amazing… You cried your beautiful eyes out when you first got into it because you said you felt so amazing. You loved it! You still love it! This is your dress. Please don’t let that man take that away from you.”

Silence takes over the room as Rhemi ponders her friend’s words for a moment and she sniffles. The most concerning thing was seeing her sick past self staring at her from across the room. She’s never seen her outside of the dream realm till now… Perhaps it was her that Rhemi heard the other day in the palace and who she saw in the mirror this morning. Who else could it be??

Portia sighs and loops her arm through Rhemi’s. “Come on. Let’s get ya out so Pierre can finish up, ok?” Rhemi follows her, but doesn’t pick up her eyes, still totally lost in thoughts. In a last attempt, Portia leans her head on her shoulder. “... You really look amazing, Rem.”

Silently Rhemi nods with a fake half grin, finally picking up her gaze to meet her friend. “Thanks, Portia… I’m really glad you are here.” She says placing her head on top of her’s.

“...Haha.. You’re lucky my brother wasn’t here—”

“—Oh gods yeah! He probably would have decked him in the face.”

“Hell! You’re lucky I didn’t!”

“Thank you, Pasha.” Rhemi mutters as stops in her tracks so she could embrace her friend.

“What are maids of honor for?” Portia whispers back, kindly embracing her back.

“Please don’t tell Muri about this….”

“.... I… I promise.”

Eventually, the two get the dress off without disturbing any of the pins on the bottom. The apprentice makes sure her eyes aren’t red in the dressing room before she walks out to meet her father again. The tension in the room was so tangible, so intoxicating.

Portia and Agrippa watched from the tailor door as Rhemi and her father walked towards the palace.

The silence was absolutely dreadful on the way to the palace. Luckily, it was within a short distance and this night would be over with. Rhemi never felt so conflicted before. Everything was so overwhelming lately. All she wanted was for her father to be happy for her. But everything she did seemed to blow up in her face.

As they reach the palace, her father finally realizes that she wasn’t walking towards the shop. “Well…. This is you.” She announces, rather happy to be done with him for the day.

“Oh…” He says a bit bewildered. “.... But I thought I was walking you home.”

“No no no. The palace is right around the corner from Pierre’s. It doesn’t make any sense going all the way across town.”

“Please. I don’t mind.”

“No, Père. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay??” Turning away from him never felt better. She hated to admit it, but he was just exhausting to be around. And after today, she had just enough of it all. “Good night.” She says just turning her so he could hear her.

With a knowing sigh, he places his cane hard into the cobblestone with a clank. “...Is it what I said about the dress.. Isn’t it?” She stops in her tracks but doesn’t look behind her… Maybe he’s going to apologize? “... Rhemielia, dear. Believe me when I say that you are making a huge mistake.” Her fists clenched so hard it almost hurts, her hopes crushed once again. Nope. Of course he wasn’t going to apologize. “... I am telling you that there are better men in Charlès that would put you into the finest of wedding gow—”

“—Have a nice night, Père…” Rhemi mutters trying to hold back the tears. “I’ll... I’ll see you later.”

As Rhemi makes her way down the street and disappears into the crowd. Martin can’t help but remember that night when he lost her. All he could do was just sit there and watch as she was swept away by that dreadful witch. Just like his other dream with the young woman whose neck was snapped. He felt so powerless of movement in these moments.

As he stood there, for one of the first times in years, Martin felt a pull on his chest. A feeling like he might have done something wrong tonight. He hadn’t felt like this since… Well… Since Rhemi’s birthday nearly fifteen years ago now.

He never meant to hurt her. She just… needed to learn a lesson…

“She’ll be fine.” He mutters to himself, shaking off this feeling of regret. “... One day she’ll thank me.”

On the way home, Rhemi made sure she got rid of all her tears before she came back home with Muriel for the night. It's a good thing people usually leave you alone when you're crying. If Muriel notices, she’ll just say that they were good tears from the fitting. All happy tears. Nothing bad happened. It’s all good!… But he knows they’re not.

————Rowdy Raven————

SKKKKIIIIIRRRRT!!!!

“—THAT BASTARD SAID WHAT ABOUT HER DRESS??” Julian shouts standing up from the table in dismay.

The tavern is busy like it usually is. Agrippa, Portia, Julian, and Asra decided to have a drink after today. It was only Monday, but it felt like everyday was an eternity since Sir Martin came into port. Portia had just finished telling her brother and his partner about what had happened at the tailors, and of course they were enraged.

Asra just yanks him back down to his chair. “Shhhh!! Ilya! Would you please calm down! Believe me, I’m just as pissed as you are!”

“If I only had my cricket bat….” Agrippa says, fantasizing while staring at the wall, sipping on their ale. “Fucking asshole…” They say as Portia holds their hand with a sweet reassuring smile.

“Did he really make her cry??” Asra asks soberly.

Portia nods sadly. “It was absolutely heartbreaking. I’ve never seen her look so frustrated and hurt before! But don’t tell Muriel! I promised her I wouldn’t.”

“Why did you tell us then?”

“She only said, Muriel.” She shrugs. “...It’ll just make the poor guy more stressed out anyways. He’s under a lot of pressure as well. This is his wedding too.”

Asra's stomach tied in knots at the thought of his best friend crying. “What the hell is this guy’s problem???”

“You should have heard what he said before she tried on the dress.” Agrippa mumbles before taking a large swing of their ale again.

“What did he say??” Julian and Asra ask at the same time, leaning closer into the table.

“It was something along the lines that he ‘couldn’t believe that she was serious about marrying that ‘seven foot tall brute’... I heard them talking before we opened the door.”

Asra's nose crinkles in and his top half of his lip curls into a snarl. “And what did she say??”

“Oh! She was quick to defend him, and she almost looked angry. But at the same time…. afraid? I dunno—but it's like her father doesn’t realize that Rhemi is her own person now…. She’s not that child that was taken from him years ago.”

“.... Do you think he still sees her as a little kid?”

Portia shrugs, staring at a stain on the wooden table. “.... Maybe?... I feel like he sees her more of something that was his property… Not really another person with feelings.”

Julian slams his fists on the table, “THAT’S. IT!” making everything rattle and clank, nearly spilling a few drinks. He snaches his goblet, jumping to a stand and chugging down the last of his Salty bitters, then throws his glass down to the ground, smashing it into a hundred pieces. “—IMMA KILL ‘EM!”

“Ilya! Sit your drunk ass down and shut up!! You’re not killing anyone!” Portia scolds. “WE four, collectively…. however might just—”

“Pasha!” Asra laughs, tugging his drunken partner back down to his chair again. “That’s a bit extreme don’t you think?? How about we just talk to Rhemi about it.”

“That man is completely toxic.” Julian mumbles, taking Asra’s drink from his hands. “... *Hiccup*....Have you…. Have you noticed that Rhemi isn’t as bright as she normally is?” Julian mutters, sipping the last bit of Asra’s salty bitters since he threw down his own cup.

“.... I have…. and something about all of this bothers me.” Asra says leaning into the table with his arms folded. “....I feel like her father is killing her spirit…. I wonder if he’s always been like this….. And if that's true… it makes me wonder…” he pauses for a movement then shakes his head. “N… Nevermind.”

“What?” Agrippa, Portia, and Julian ask in unison.

“.... *Sigh*.... I might be going too far if I say this.”

“Well now you have to tell us.” Agrippa says with a straight face about to knock back the last bit of ale.

“.... I don’t know…… Sometimes I wonder if she and her mother were really….. ‘Kidnapped’.”

The table suddenly became so eerily quiet, as if they all were thinking the same thing.

✨To be continued…

Sorry for the long wait my trash pandas. But I really needed this break from writing. And I'm really glad I took it. I am so happy with myself right now. I know its still not by best work, but I at least don't hate it. This chapter was supposed a bit longer, but I decided not to shoot myself in the foot this time and just split it.

Thank you for the babies who have been support and encouraging to me when I was at a really low point. I was really sad that last chapter didn't do as well as I was hoped. But I realized that a lot of people are still reading and I need to be humble and be grateful for what I have. Anyways--chapter 7, The King of Pentacles~ should be up soonish. That may be another shorter chapter, but it gonna be a big angsty one. *wink wink*. As always, thanks for reading my hot garbage! <3

23 notes · View notes

xaharadesert · 3 years

Text

Return to the Lazaret Alone Pt. 2 - Headcanon

Portia Devorak x MC

A/N: Part 2/6 for @snarkfinnsoup! Part 1 was posted a little while ago for anyone who wants to read Julian’s part! Lucio’s up next :) Requests are open!

TW: Lazaret, mentions of death, relationship insecurities, anxiety, crying, isolation, food mention

🧡Portia🧡

When she first woke up and noticed you weren’t by her side, she didn’t think much of it

Frankly, you were both very busy people, and as much as she would love to spend her mornings with you, sometimes it just wasn’t possible

A small part of her was worried, though

She didn’t like fighting with you in the first place, but the longer you two went without resolving things, the worse she felt

She made herself a mental note to work things out peacefully with you that evening after work, but aside from that, she didn’t put much thought into the matter

Unfortunately she didn’t see you around the palace that day, which was a bit odd

She would usually bump into you at least once, on purpose or not

But today she had no such luck, which only made her heart ache more

By the time the sun began to set she was downright anxious

Her throat felt tight and the tears seemed to be building up behind her eyes as she rushed home, ready to just throw herself into your arms and apologize, regardless of who was right or wrong during the argument

When you weren’t there when she first got home, she tried to rationalize and assumed you were being held up at work

So she took the time to start making dinner, as well as a fresh batch of cookies to go with her apology

However, you didn’t come home at all that night

Portia was heartbroken, but she understood that maybe you just needed some space to sort out your own feelings before talking to her

She knew you were more than welcome to stay in the palace or with Asra, so she wasn’t super worried about where exactly you were, only that you felt you needed to isolate yourself

She decided she would find you and give you the best apology ever tomorrow, no matter how much you tried to avoid her

But she didn’t see you again the next day, and by then she knew that something would have to be horribly wrong for you to stay away that long

Your relationship was built on mutual trust and communication, and for you to avoid her like this was practically unheard of

She asked Nadia for a bit of time off, which she was fortunately given, and searched all of your regular spots around Vesuvia

But it seemed that you weren’t in any of them, and your friends didn’t seem to know where you were either

Clearly this called for more drastic measures

As much as she hated to trouble her, Portia knew that Nadia was a good friend of yours as well, and would be more than willing to spend resources on finding you

Nadia spread the message to her guards and soldiers that you were missing, and that they should keep an eye out for you and return you to the palace as soon as possible

However, this only worked after a few days, when you were already coming back to the palace, and more specifically, to Portia, on your own

By that time Portia was fully panicking, constantly crying and struggling to get any work done

Nadia had obviously given her more time off, and Julian had come to stay with her out of concern, but none of that changed the fact that you were missing and she felt like she had caused it

If you had been hurt or taken because you had run off because of your fight together, she would never forgive herself

So when she finally saw you walk back in the door, she immediately threw herself into your arms with enough force to topple you both to the floor

Tears were streaming down her face and she was wailing apology after apology, overwhelmed by a mix of both guilt and happiness

Honestly, as upset as you probably were about your argument, this might just have upset you more

You would have to be soulless to not feel terrible about how much she was crying

It would take an hour at least for her to calm down enough to talk to you properly about what had happened, and then at least three more for you to get your story out between her tears and questions

When you confirmed that you had left for the Lazaret because you felt bad about your argument, she was crying out apologies all over again, but if you mentioned any of the underlying insecurities you felt about your relationship, she would freeze up, not quite knowing what to do

She always did her best to communicate with you, but she had missed any signs of anxiety toward your relationship that you had had

This only made her feel worse, but she vowed that she would smother you in so much love that you would never ever be able to doubt your relationship again

Of course, there were other parts of your explanation that left her worried, but she wasn’t quite sure how to address them yet

She didn’t understand why you would want to spend your time isolated at the Lazaret, a place where you had literally died

But she didn’t know enough about magic and coming back from the dead to question it, so she left the topic alone for now

At the moment, she needed to focus on making you feel as loved as possible, and working with you to strengthen your communication about your relationship

But for someone as stubborn and as in love as her, it would be a piece of cake

60 notes · View notes

retvenkos · 3 years

Text

“shall i capture your heart with a song?”

A/N: lol, i only know the witcher on netflix, and what i have found out about jaskier via tumblr osmosis, so how accurate is this? i guess we’ll have to see, lol.

requested HERE WE ARE, IMAGINING WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO BE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS TO EVENTUAL MARRIAGE WITH THE ONLY AND ONLY JASKIER....

well, seeing as jaskier is of noble birth, i’m going to say that you are, too.

your families are old friends, so when you guys first meet, (i want to say you’re like 8 or 9) it’s at some celebration or another and at first you’re a little unsure if you should talk to each other or just,,,, stand there.

one of your parents absent mindedly tells you to talk to the boy, and so you have to do the awkward introductions.

“i’m (y/n) (l/n)”

“i’m julian alfred pankratz.”

“that’s unfortunate.”

“hey!”

“don’t worry. i’ll find something better to call you.”

“yeah, well... i’ll find something better to call you.”

(sorry, guys,,,,, i still can’t get over jaskier’s real name)

the two of you decide to sneak away from your parents to get some food or something, and then you eventually decide to sneak away from the party entirely

it was jaskier’s idea, really. he was trying to avoid some family or something - the family that thinks they are oh so better than you and compare achievements and what not...

the two of you are just wandering (jaskier’s sense of direction is horrible so it’s really up to you to keep everything straight) and you end up in some field or another, talking about whatever comes to mind. jaskier is telling you stories and you scoff.

“you’re like a weed, julian alfred pankratz. like a.... dandelion.”

“i am not!”

“what flower would you want to be, then?”

“something better than a dandelion!”

“like what, a buttercup?”

“yOU are.... are like....”

“like what?”

“...aconite! that’s a poison.”

“aconites are related to buttercups, dandelion. you can’t get rid of me.”

and jaskier thinks it’s wildly funny that you know horticulture, of all things. he finds it so funny, in fact, he fails to miss that you’ve coined a new nickname for him.

it seems that all the time, afterward, you run into jaskier and his family. by virtue of constantly seeing each other, the two of you end up being really good friends.

it’s a running gag that you love horticulture, and since the illustrious julian alfred pankratz uses it against you at every turn, you fluctuate between calling him “jaskier” and “dandelion”. he eventually gets used to it, but he hates it when others start to catch on.

he also comes up with ridiculous nicknames for you, but none of them quite seem to stick. he’s constantly cycling through through new ones, hoping to find the right one.

the two of you hang out a lot, but since you do a lot of reading or gardening and need jaskier to stop chatting with you for five minutes he picks up the lute and learns to play it really well.

you’re the first one who tells him his singing voice is quite beautiful.

“i’m sorry, did you just say my singing voice is ‘quite beautiful’?”

“it’s nice, okay?”

“nice?”

“if you keep this up, i’ll just have to insult you.”

“you’d never.”

“do you not remember the first time we met?”

“like it was yesterday.”

“i laid down some pretty decent insults, if i remember right.”

“i called you poison.”

“yeah, but aconites are pretty. unlike dandelions.”

and jaskier scoffs. “and buttercups?”

“they’re not bad looking.”

so we all know that jaskier supposedly gets into poetry when he’s 19 because he’s inspired by his love for the countess de stael,,, bUT,,,, consider this instead:

he actually gets into poetry for you.

jaskier has had a few loves at this point, and with each one, he’s a nervous wreck. you always help him by curating the most beautiful bouquets (all of which come from your amazing, thriving garden) and you are always there to help him with his flirting (which needs serious help,,,, i’m not even sure you’re cut out for the job)

you guys have probably even kissed before - both of you were regrettably drunk (don’t tell your parents) and jaskier said he desperately needed ‘the practice’. plus, he wanted to know!!!! was he a good kisser or not? no one else would rate him on a scale from 1-10 with brutal but accurate honesty! neither of you fully remember what exactly happened, come morning, but you remember the lead up to the moment and jaskier remembers the thoughts running through his head afterward... both of you agree not to speak of it.

anyway, when jaskier starts to realize that he has these awkward feelings that seem suspiciously illicit, he knows he has to get them out, somehow, but you are the only one who would listen to his complaints, and he very well can’t tell you.

so he decides he has to write them down.

but clearly they can’t be literal, lest someone stumble upon them,,,,, so he has to learn the secret art of poetry.

you, of course, notice how oddly quiet hanging out with jaskier has become, and his odd questions on flower symbolism, and it doesn’t take you long until you realize that, of all things, jaskier has turned to poetry.

“you can’t make fun of me for liking horticulture, anymore, dandelion. you’re a p o e t .”

“at least i’m a good one.”

and you flick his forehead

“what will your stage name be? surely julian alfred pankratz won’t work.”

“which one should it be? jaskier or dandelion?”

and you laugh, the sound like a summer breeze.

“i knew you’d come to appreciate my nicknames, eventually.”

jaskier frequently “serenades” you, under the guise that he’s practicing, of course, but it’s also his not so subtle way of seeing if you like his poetry and his songs - they are for you, after all.

“you’ll certainly capture hearts with that one.”

“did i capture yours?”

and you, feeling very flustered, especially seeing as you’ve had feelings for jaskier for a while now, can only let out a guttural sort of scoff.

“of course,” and you try to say it over the top and jokingly, but you can feel your face heating up.

and jaskier winks. you huff and turn back to your books.

oh, yikes, i didn’t realize this was getting a little long,,,, let’s speed things up.

everyone knows that you and jaskier are end game. your families think it’s vvv sweet, and everyone that either you or jaskier attempt to woo know it’s only going to be a passing fancy because,,,, have you seen the way you look at each other? like you hang the moon and the stars?

but of course, both of you are dramatic as hell, so you frequently have conversations like:

“we’re piss poor in love, aren’t we?”

“i guess the world just doesn’t understand our genius.”

“terrible that i have to share this lonely cleverness with the likes of you.”

“absolutely devastating.”

and you just sit there for a while, staring at the ceiling.

maybe you guys do some traveling together for a while, but you eventually find a place to put down roots (lol, horticulture jokes). maybe you run an apothecary! that would be precious.

either way, jaskier is a bard so when he isn’t traveling around, he’s staying with you.

a frequent request of yours goes something like this:

“dandelion, play me a song.”

“what kind?”

“a love song.”

and he does, and afterward, he sits down across from you and winks.

“did i capture your heart with that one?”

and some nights you’re a little too tired to make a show of it and some of that blissful candor slips out and slaps jaskier across the face when you smile and say, “yes.”

if you haven’t noticed, the two of you hella dance around your feelings. it’s insane, because catchphrase is: “anything for you” meanwhile you are the most soft™ for him and yet you don’t seem to clue in.

100%, you are going to have to be the one that expresses your love first, because jaskier is the definition of suffering in silence

but what’s also really funny is you both probably try to keep it hidden just how long you have loved each other for, and yet you are both nosy as hell and want to know how long this has been going on, so it leads to really funny conversations where you are both trying to dodge giving a proper timeline, but are drying to coax one out of the other.

ohmygod, i forgot to do marriage headcanons

alright, lightning round: firstly, i don’t think it takes you guys long to get married - you have known each other for so long, and you already act like a married couple, might as well make it official

jaskier refuses to let anyone else sing at his wedding, but you eventually coax him into it because how else are you going to dance with him?

let jaskier invite all of his witcher friends. the divide between your wealthy families and the witchers would be funny as hell. like inlaws that don’t get along but wORSE.

some quick marriage thoughts:

jaskier has definitely learned the art of flowers, thanks to you, so (1) he leaves you flowers everywhere, and (2) both of you get to garden with each other all the time.

sleep and jaskier don’t mix - no matter what time of the night, you can wake up and he’s up and about, doing something or another. maybe he’s writing a song, maybe he’s eating, maybe he’s arguing with yennefer (she often visits, just to antagonize jaskier. you guys are great friends) in the livingroom and trying to keep his voice down

similar with nicknames, jaskier is constantly using pet names, trying to decide on which one is best. it doesn’t really work out, but maybe the most common one is he’ll call you his muse.

and it only sounds cheesy 20% of the time

you guys get to go to parties together! that’s fun - you like dressing up and sneaking away half way through because you’re bored. you guys steal food and hide out until they realize the bard is missing and drag him back.

so we all know jaskier is big on compliments, and it only gets worse when the two of you are together. it’s like,,,, yes. now i can shower you with love and affection at all hours of the day, and it’s okay! he still does his poorly timed winks but he insists they’re charming!

you begrudgingly agree

consider for a moment: going to get breakfast with this man. first of all, breakfast is probably his favorite meal, and he’s always adamant you get a good one (since being with geralt means no breakfast at all). jaskier talks like you haven’t seen him in years, despite living together, and he’s very big on holding your hand or bopping you on the nose. plus, he smiles.

oh! and his singing is 100% contagious, so it doesn’t take long before you are singing around the house, and jaskier is just stunned at you,,,, you find him staring and roll your eyes at his ridiculousness, but this man is in love!!!! let him be in love!!!!

and you also talk to your plants, so you know jaskier picks that up, to. you’re a very vocal couple, lol.

AND FLUFF ENSUES.

-- taglist: @lenalxvegood, @cooloaflandhero, @swanimagines, @multifandomfix // message me if you want to be added!

#jaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier headcanons #jaskier witcher #jaskier x you #jaskier imagine #reader insert #gender neutral reader #tw marriage #fluff #the witcher

80 notes · View notes

dapandapod · 4 years

Text

Valdo the reluctant hero

So. Like the maniac I am I borrowed a prompt where our hero comes to the villain, hurt, drugged and lost, knocking on their door and passing out in their arms. And this is what brain did.

Please enjoy Valdo taking care of a hurt Jaskier (refered to as Julian because thats who they are to each other) and is very much a dramaqueen about it, and possibly a little secretly soft.

Prompt adopted from @endrega23 and it’s on Ao3 here!

Enjoy! <3

Someone knocks hard on his door.

It sounds more like desperate slapping, open palm against the wood. Valdo rolls his eyes, why the fuck would anybody come around at this hour?

He puts down his book and pulls his feet down from the stool he rested them on. Damn, this was supposed to be his night off.

More slapping on the door and an irritated sigh falls from his lips.

“Coming, I'm coming!” He shouts towards the door and slowly makes his way there.

He really doesn’t want to.

That kind of knocking doesn’t indicate a lady visit, or anything pleasurable at all.

Dragging his feet behind him he walks over the plush carpet. Ugh. So annoying. And it’s so late already. He just wants to sit alone, not talking to anybody, just he, himself and his hand.

He did not expect Julian Alfred Fucking Pankratz leaning against his doorframe.

Valdo feels his jaw drop somewhere around his knees, because what the actual fruit basket with onions inside is he doing here.

“What…?” is all that he manages to say before Julian looks up to him.

And Valdo actually takes a look at him.

Julians lip is bleeding, he is red and swollen just under his right eye and he is clutching a hand to his ribs. The eggshell colored tunic he is wearing is filthy, stained with mud and what looks like more blood. His eyes, normally so sharp and cutting, are dazed.

“Please.” Julian wheezes out. “I didn’t know where to go.”

There is a commotion somewhere in the city, shouting men and clamping feet.

Valdo doesn’t even think, he pulls Julian in by the elbow and closes the door. Locks it and pulls the curtains.

Then he whirls around and stares at the other bard.

“Why in Meliteles name are you here?!” He hisses at Julian, who only moved to lean against his wall. And no, that just won’t do. He is going to stain the wallpaper.

So Valdo grabs Julians elbow again, not braving to touch any other part of the filthy and possibly more hurt bard than necessary.

Valdo drags him deeper into his home, up the stairs to the second floor where he can put Julian in one of the guest rooms.

Yes, Valdo has guestrooms. He is a popular man, actually, thank you very much.

Only, halfway up the stairs, Julians knees buckle and Valdo have to put an arm under his shoulder so that he won’t fall all the way down again. Ugh, such a pain.

So he half drags, half shoves Julian up the stairs. His body is warm against his, too warm. Something is obviously not right here.

“What the hell did you do this time, Pankratz?”

And why did he come here? Out of all the places in Oxenfurt, why did he come here?

They are not friends? One might even go as far as to say they hate each other. A bit. Officially at least. Bitter rivals you know. It sells well.

“I’m not sure.” Julian mumbles against Valdos shoulder, head moving around with the motion, as if he can’t really control his muscles.

“Did they drug you?!” Valdo accuses, as if it was his fault. J

ulian just gives noncommittal hum, he has been spending far too much time with that witcher lately.

Valdo kicks open the door to the guest room and shoves Julian onto the bed.

In any other circumstance it would have been hot. Now Valdo is just royally pissed.

They better not find him here and drag Valdo into this mess, whatever it is.

As soon as Julian made contact with the mattress, he is out.

Valdo sighs and drags his fingers through his hair. This is not how he expected the night to go.

On the street outside, Valdo can hear the shouts and stomps of the men likely chasing Julian. They run right past his house, so either they don’t know that he lives her (insulting) or they know and deem it unlikely for Julian to seek shelter here.

Valdo gives the man on the bed another long, judging look and goes to fetch a basin of water.

Does he have any spare linen somewhere? Something to clean up that face with so that he doesn’t dirty the bed. Those bed covers were expensive.

When he returns Julian hasn't moved an inch. He lays on his back with one arm around his ribs, the other one flung to the side in a dramatic pose.

Valdo sits down next to him on the bed, awkwardly dabs his face with the rag he found.

There are no open wounds so it should be fine.

Softly he wash away the blood on Julians lip.

It is soft, red and swollen, a small line where the skin cracked.

Valdo doesn’t let himself look too closely, because he is a man of standards you know.

He has absolutely not spent any time what so ever thinking about that mouth or that sharp tongue with it.

Then he dabs at the cheek. It’s already darkening, angry red shifting into a darker purple just over his cheekbone. It looks painful, so he rinses the rag and tries to be as careful as possible.

Wait.

Why does it matter if he is careful or not? He doesn’t care!

So on the other (unhurt) cheek he simply rubs the rag around.

There. Perfect. Bed cover is safe. Somewhat.

But that tunic looks rather horrible.

No, this cannot stand. Putting water and rag aside, he shifts so that he can move Julians body around.

Gently he grips Julians hand that was against his ribs, and moves it so that he can unlace the tunic.

Wait.

No, Valdo doesn’t need to be gentle. It’s fine. This is not a friend. (But his hand was very warm and very soft. (Brain! Be quiet!!))

Unlacing tunics always was his favorite part when undressing a partner. There is something sensual in bit by bit revealing the skin hidden underneath. Half of Julian's hairy chest is revealed when Valdo catches himself smiling.

Ah. Fuck. Oh well.

If he is doing this, why not as well enjoy the show.

Julian, unlike many other bards at the university, hasn’t let himself go (yet) and his waist is slim and alluring. They both know he looks good, so what if he gets an eyeful as he does a good deed?

He coaxes Julians arms out of the tunic and tries to pull it from under his back when Julian makes a pained sound.

Oh, right. Maybe he hurt his ribs?

Valdo has no idea what to do with any other injury than a split lip or a scraped knee, but he should be able to tell if he needs to call a healer. So Valdo drags a fingertip over Jaskiers side, trying to get a sense of the ribs, if anything feels out of place.

It doesn’t, so that’s something, probably?

Next is the boots. The boots can under no circumstance get on that bed.

It is when Valdo is kneeling and is trying to pull of the second boot that Julian returns to the land of the living.

He grunts, puts an elbow under himself and looks around.

“Geralt?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“Just me, little lark.” Valdo says mockingly and pulls off the other boot. He tosses it towards the other one with a satisfying thunk.

“Marx.” Julian says, and from the look upon his face Valdo would bet his hat that memories are flooding back. “Oh.”

“In the flesh.” Valdo stands up and makes a small bow. “Welcome to my humble home. Now, take those horrid trousers off, if you please. I don’t want to dirty the bed any further.”

At any other time, Julian would have made a dirty joke about it.

Something is absolutely wrong, because without further ado he wiggles out of his trousers. Valdo turns his back on him to give some privacy.

There is only so much one man should share with another when they are mortal enemies and all that.

“Would you mind telling me what made you seek out my fine company this evening?” Valdo asks the wall, listening to the rustling of fabric and movement.

“Someone broke into my room in the university.” Julian replies, his words still a little slurred. “I think they drugged my wine. And when they came in they….”

There is a silence, and Valdo risks a look over his shoulder.

Julian is sitting against the wall and has pulled up the blanket around his hips. He stares at his hands, gripping at the soft fabric, his brows furrowed.

Valdo turns around fully and sits at the end of the bed, putting a hand on Julians ankle in support.

“It’s a little fuzzy. But I remember being shoved out, punched to the ground. And then I ran, and they laughed.”

Julian looks up at him then, with his startlingly blue eyes.

“Thank you for opening the door.” Julian looks so sincere when he says it that Valdo thinks back on his reluctance with a hint of shame.

“Of course.” He says anyway.

“You were the only one who did.”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Don’t worry about it.” Valdo waves it away, but it sits heavy in his gut.

Either Valdo was the only one with a night off and bad enough sense to open the door at this hour, or the others saw him coming and decided not to open anyway.

“I’ll go fetch you something to drink. You can spend the night here, but I don’t want any trouble.”

Julian gives him a weak smile, and Valdo is struck with the urge to grab a pen and write.

“I’ll be gone as soon as I’m able.”

It turns out ‘as soon as I’m able’ is two days later.

A fever sets in when morning comes, and Valdo does his best, muttering all the while what a good person he is and what a bad person Julian is for putting him through this, and by the next midnight it has passed. Luckily.

He lends Julian one of his older tunics and pretends it doesn’t do things to him. They spend hours bickering back and forth, but Julian keeps smiling at him. It’s unnerving.

When the third morning comes, Julian is well enough to limp home. Valdo follows him there, he insists there is no point in his generosity if Julian gets attacked immediately again. Another terrible smile later, another scribbled page with secret words, and they are off.

All is fine and things return to normal. They meet in the halls of nobility, they throw sharp words at each other. But every now and then, Julian sends a smile, and the ground Valdo have been standing so firmly on is slowly crumbling.

Valdo is never saving Julian ever again.

#valdo marx #valdo is a hero #for once #give him some credit #hurt jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #oxenfurt #valdo x jaskier #possibly idk what you read into it #good guy-ish valdo #jaskier the bard #jaskier whump #blood #dapanda writes #ao3fic #the witcher

147 notes · View notes

slytherindisaster · 4 years

Text

IDENTITY

Full Name: Julian Xander Bennett

Birthday: 8th March 1973

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Blood Status: Pureblood

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: True Neutral

Ethnicities: English, Greek

Nationality: British

Residence: Nottingham, East Midlands, England

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ESTP - The Entrepreneur

THE MAGE

Wand: Ash, curupira hair, 12 inches, Slightly springy

Misc. Magical Abilities: Seer; Wandless & Nonverbal magic; Apparition;

Animagus: N/A

Boggart Form: his parents saying that they didn’t want him and that’s why they left

Riddikulus Form: his parents start to dance ridiculously to some upbeat disco music

Amortentia (What do they smell like?): apple, hay, butterscotch, wood

Amortentia (What do they smell?): lavender, brewed coffee, wood, coconut

Patronus: Lynx

Patronus Memory: his mother singing him to sleep when he was six

Mirror of Erised: he’s with his parents and aunt and they’re all happy

APPERANCE

Faceclaim/Voiceclaim: Joe Keery

Height: 5ft 9inch (175cm)

Physique: Athletic

Eye Colour: Gray; turn gold when he has a vision

Hair Colour: Brown, with some reddish highlights under a warm lighting

Skin Tone: Fair

Body Modifications: N/A

Scarring: small scar on his right eyebrow; not exactly a scar but he has a visible bump on his nose since he broke it as a child

Inventory (what do they carry on them?): wand, spare change, at least one hair tie, pack of gums, tissues, sunglasses, a notebook or a piece of parchment, pencils

PERSONALITY

loyal, courageous, emphatic, protective, kind, creative, confident, strong, energetic, positive, cooperative, polite, gentle

ALLEGIANCES

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Affiliations/Organisations: Gryffindor House; Gryffindor Quidditch team; Circle of Khanna; Gringotts Wizarding Bank; the Order of the Phoenix

Professions:

11 — 18: student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

18 — 30: Cursebreaker for Gringotts Wizarding Bank

30+: Freelance Cursebreaker

HOGWARTS INFORMATION

Class Proficiencies (most to least):

Flying, Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Divination, Transfiguration, Charms, Astronomy, History of Magic, Potions,

Quidditch: Beater (fourth to seventh year)

Extra Curricular: TBD

Favourite Professors: McGonagall; Kettleburn; Trelawney

Least Favourite Professors: Snape; Binns

RELATIONSHIPS

Mother: Daphne Bennett (née Hall) - deceased (probably)

Father: Walter Bennett - deceased (probably)

Aunt: Cassandra “Cassie” Bennett

[FC: Goldie Hawn]

Love Interest: Clary Walcott (@that-ravenpuff-witch)

Canon Friends: Bill & Charlie Weasley; Tulip Karasu; Nymphadora Tonks; Barnaby Lee; Diego Caplan; Jae Kim; Chiara Lobosca; Murphy McNully

MC Friends: Clary Walcott and Henry McClarnon (@that-ravenpuff-witch); Ottilie Reyes (@words-and-wands); Marti and Jacob Venturi (@smarti-at-smogwarts); Feen McKenzie and Atlas Marson (@cleverglitteryfoxtrot);

Enemies: Merula Snyde

Dormmates: Ben Copper; Charlie Weasley; Jae Kim; Henry McClaron

Pets: a rat named Ozzy (male)

BACKGROUND

He was born in England to a pureblood father and half-blood mother, he was an only child. His childhood was mostly happpy and he grew up showing signs of magical abilities. At the age of four he had his first vision in a dream, it wasn’t very clear and he couldn’t understand it but he felt that it wasn’t a good thing. His mother reassured him then that it was just nightmares. Because both of his parents were aurors, working for the Order of the Phoenix, they would often leave him on Walter’s sister’s — Cassie — supervision. She was an unusual character but little Julian kinda admired her wierdness.

His entire world changed over just one summer when Julian was six years old. His parents left him with Cassie again, promising they’d be back just in time to take him on a vacation trip they’ve been talking about for the past few weeks. So he waited for them for days, turned weeks, turned months. They never came back. Although he knew that they wouldn’t left him, and that something terrible must have happened he was still unsure whether that was the case. The fact that absolutely nobody seemed to know what really happened to them wasn’t helping.

Probably the darkest time of his short life begin. He was taken away from his aunt, because the authorities stated that she’s not capable of rasing him. Then he was passed from home to home, nearly put in an orphanage for good. His visions were starting to become more intrusive and he started to experience them even when he was awake. He wouldn’t understand what’s happening to him and he also was physically unable to not to say what he saw. People around them whether it was other kids or adults were really disturbed by things he were saying due to the fact that his visions were mostly about bad stuff that were going to happen.

Almost a year later it was reaveled to him that Cassie was actively trying to get the custody over him and he eventually succeeded. After a horrible time of not being wanted by anybody he was finally reunited with the one person he actually trusted. He went back to live with Cassie and things finally started looking good for him. His aunt quickly noticed that he can experience the visions the near future and tried to explain it to him. She was an incredible help for him in understanding what all of that means and she could understand what he was going trough, because she was given the same ability.

By the time he was eleven and his letter from Hogwarts came, he could much better understand how to deal with all the things he was seeing. Although he couldn’t control when the vision would come or what he would see, he managed to distance himself from it and have a lot better coping mechanisms after the things he saw were dark or traumatic.

LAST UPDATE: 11.01.2021 — things added: MC friends, love interest, dormmate, amortentia smell, pet

#honestly he popped up in my head out of nowhere #but i love him lol #i wanted to make a seer mc for a while now #so i am pretty proud of him and his story #i was so torn whether to put him in gryffindor or slytherin #but i guess i have a soft spot for dorky gryffindor boys lol #also i have now way too much gryffindor ocs i need to fix it #hphm #julian bennett #and now i’m off to go reblog all the stuff i didn’t while i was working on julian #hogwarts mystery #character profile #hogwarts mystery mc

38 notes · View notes

faustonastring · 4 years

Text

Thanks for requesting! I hope you like it @syaolaurant

Main six cooking with mc

Asra

He can cook, but he usually makes a mistake here or there, but he loves to cook exotic foods that he came across during his travels, with lots of spices. The weirder, the better. The spicer the better. But if you don’t like spicy food, he’ll tone it down for you.

Cooking with asra, is fun and flirty, he’s the type to ask you how something taste, them proceeds to eat it then kiss you. Because how else are you supposed to figure out how it taste? Whilst we’re on the topic of making out while cooking, things have burnt and bubbled over because you both get to caught up in each other and stop paying attention to the food

He will listen to all your cooking tips, and pulls a mean girls and pretends to be worst at cooking than he actually is, just so he can hear your voice lecturing him. He likes how it sounds. He also likes it if you put your hands over his to cut or wash something.

Also in a modern au he has made edibles more than once

Nadia

She has never had to cook a day in her life, so uh, this is new. Very new. Now don’t get me wrong, she’s tried to cook once or twice, but it’s never really been her thing...she much rather be tinkering with something.

But she’ll try anything for you, even if it means *shivers* cooking. Don’t get me wrong, she’s happy as long as your happy, but she’s not good at cooking, like at all. But she will follow your orders the best she can.....oh how the turns have tabled

She tries to flirt, and indulge in your flirting, but she’s hyper focused, don’t interrupt her when she’s cutting the carrots, she doesn’t want to cut them wrong, or lose a finger. The food does end up good, and she says it’s all thanks to you, and to repay you for your hard work, she feeds it to you :)

Julian

I’m praying for you, I really am I really really am, this is going to go horribly wrong, no matter how good of a cook you are, I’m sorry but Julian is just a walking disaster, and though he can follow directions, he over thinks everything

Put the oven at 350? He’ll put it at 355 just in case....but the bread in for 30 minutes? Well 45 extra minutes won’t kill right? Just too make sure neither of you get anything type of food poisoning, in case you can’t tell, that backfires horribly.

He will listen like I said, just get ready for horrible dad jokes, god awful flirting, and then silence. As he concentrates on cutting and onion, then yelling, when he rubs his watery eye with the hand he was holding the onion with.

Portia

The dynamic duo. It’s perfect, both of you know exactly what your doing, so not much if anything goes wrong, you also get to share recipes with each other, and cute baking and cooking tricks you both picked up along the way.

Make bread. Just do it. Portia strikes me as a bread kind of girl. Also make animals out of the bread. Frog bread, duck bread, cat bread, bread bread. It’s fun, and it’s cute, and make sure you give a piece to the baker. He’ll trade you for some pumpkin bread.

She’s the type to smudge flour and batter on your face, especially your nose, and next thing you know flour and batter is everywhere, and you end up having to get pepi a bath because you got some in her fur while you tried to keep her away from eating some batter of the floor.

Muriel

He’s used to not eating, but he knows how to skin and cook a fish, and he can make some pretty bad ass unseasoned eggs. On that note please introduce him to seasoning, it will change he his life forever. I promise.

He likes it when your good at things, he thinks it cute. It just adds to the list of things he loves about it you, and when you ask if he wants to learn to cook a particular dish, he’s very eager, and does a terrible job at hiding it.

He’s very hesitant to do certain things, in fear of messing up, but things always come out near perfect with him, plus he’s very good at peeling things, just don’t flirt with him while he’s holding a knife, he will accidentally cut himself. But if your having trouble kneading or storing something, he’ll put his hands over yours and guide them, blushing like a mad man.

Lucio

You must have a lot of paitence, to be able to cook with him, also don’t let him leave your vision, if you turn your back for once second, he’s adding god knows what into the boiling pot, you also have to be very spefic with your directions

He can roast a game, sure, but he’s uh not the best at ‘fancy food’ like this, like if you say to add three eggs into the batter, he will literally throw three whole eggs into the batter, or when he figures out he needs to crack them, he gets a little bit of the shell in the batter, but don’t worry it’s extra protein!

He’ll listen to you! He’ll do what ever you say, but lucio lacks multiple things, common sense is definitely one of them. But he’s trying, and he wants to make you happy, and if that means cooking so be it. Besides cooking is kind of fun when you get the hang of it. Kind of.

Thanks for the request I hope you like it! I’m pretty sure I wrote I flash headcanon about this a couple weeks ago, so if anyone wants to read it you can find it under other in my master list, which is located here!

240 notes · View notes

of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog · 4 years

Text

Nanny

Commission for the ever-wonderful @depressedstressedlemonzest ! I hope you enjoy this, my love! Even though it got away from me a bit, eh heh heh. *sweats* Commission info is in my about page!

CW: ableism

Geralt did not know what to expect regarding the nanny he had contacted. He had been open to it being anyone, as long as they weren’t a creep.

He would never in a million years have expected his one-night-stand for two days ago to end up on his doorstep.

Geralt and Jaskier stared at each other, equally stunned. Finally, Jaskier cleared his throat and said lamely, “So you’re the Mr. Rivia who emailed me?”

“Yes,” Geralt got out stiffly.

“Daa-ddyyyy!” Ciri wailed from the living room. “Hungry!”

Geralt grimaced and rubbed his forehead. “Please come in,” he said with no enthusiasm. “I have to get Ciri her lunch.”

Jaskier nodded and followed him inside the small townhouse.

Ciri was stomping inside her pen, making frustrated noises. As soon as Geralt lifted her out, she beamed and threw her arms around his neck. “Hungry!” she yelled again, right in his ear.

“Of course, love,” Geralt agreed, rubbing her back soothingly as he took her to the kitchen. “What would you like for lunch today?”

“Ramen!” Ciri squealed, bouncing in his arms and tugging his hair. Geralt didn’t even flinch. He was used to it by now.

So he put Ciri in the high chair, started the ramen, and only remembered Jaskier when Ciri asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Julian,” Jaskier replied. “And you are?”

“Ciri. That’s my daddy!”

“I noticed!”

Geralt’s mouth tightened as Jaskier and Ciri chatted. They were already on their way to being friends. Not good. If he decided not to hire Jaskier, Ciri would be upset and cry. But it would be better to not hire him. Right?

It had been a very good night when he shared Jaskier’s bed. He’d especially liked how Jaskier had--

Geralt swallowed hard and poured in the ramen noodles. They had both decided to end it there. It was a bad idea to let Jaskier stick around. He was too… bright, and loud, and frankly annoying. It didn’t matter that his terrible flirting was entertaining, or that he was a great singer, or that he obviously knew how to befriend children. Geralt would probably get pissed enough to throw him out in a week.

Ciri crowed with laughter and Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. She hadn’t laughed like that for anyone other than Geralt since Yennefer left.

With his heart sufficiently aching from Ciri’s excitement, Geralt turned away from the stove and walked to the table. Jaskier was already teaching her that stupid song about the spider and the water spout, and how to move her hands to the words. They were both grinning, as Ciri tried to sing along. Geralt wanted to say something, but she was happy, so he got a juicebox from the fridge and set it in reach for her, then retreated to the counter to watch them.

“Do you like ramen?” Ciri asked Jaskier, her green eyes wide with fascination.

“I do,” Jaskier replied, still smiling. “It’s one of my favorite foods.”

“It’s mine too!” Ciri said gleefully, waving her arms and knocking over the juicebox. Geralt lunged and caught it, and set it on the tray of the highchair again. “I like chicken ramen best! Daddy makes the best chicken ramen!”

Jaskier glanced over to Geralt, looking thoroughly amused. Geralt reddened in embarrassment. “That’s wonderful, wee,” Jaskier told Ciri. “Do you eat it often?”

“Every day!” Ciri crowed proudly.

Jaskier’s smile faded a little, but then he brightened it again. “Wow, it must be really good.”

“It is!”

Geralt looked down at the floor to hide his shamed expression. It was a good thing Ciri liked ramen, cold cereal, and canned soup; Geralt hadn’t had the money to buy fresh food since the lawyers stripped Geralt of his income from Vesemir’s estate. Unemployment payments were barely enough to pay the mortgage, the utilities, and Ciri’s diapers. Anything extra came from odd jobs around the city.

But he simply could not afford to leave Ciri alone, not when he needed to find a full-time job, and none of the daycare centers would accept a child of a Witcher. So--a nanny.

Ciri and Jaskier kept talking, and Geralt kept feeling more and more horrible, as Ciri told Jaskier all about her and Geralt’s playing every day except the days after he drank too much, and visiting Lambert and Eskel for dinner (they had insisted on at least feeding them, though Geralt refused their financial help), and her mommy sending her presents in the mail. At least, Daddy said they were from her mommy.

Geralt turned away at that point. The presents were not from Yennefer. They were what he could buy with scraped-up savings. He didn’t want Ciri to think Yenn had abandoned her, and to never remember her fondly.

The ramen was done. He drained it, put half a packet of seasoning in, and brought it to Ciri, along with her favorite spork. She squealed in delight and immediately began eating. Geralt’s stomach ached. Fuck, had she been hungry all morning? Was that day’s breakfast not enough? They didn’t have much cereal left, and he wasn’t sure he could afford more when the next check came in, oh fuck, he was going to have another panic attack--

“Please slow down, love,” Geralt managed to say, stroking Ciri’s hair gently. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Ciri grumbled, but slowed. Geralt sat at the table across from Jaskier, and waited for the reprimands. Everyone reprimanded him when they got to know how he was raising Ciri. It was why he never told anyone about her unless pressed.

He was shaking. His chest hurt, especially his lungs. Why did he feel so light-headed?

“So,” Jaskier said, breaking through Geralt’s fearful thoughts. “I’m assuming the interview can happen now?”

No, absolutely not. Jaskier should leave, and swear not to report Geralt for neglect. Instead of saying that, Geralt nodded mutely.

“Innervu?” Ciri asked with her mouth full.

“An interview is where a person asks another questions, usually about their work,” Jaskier told her.

“But Daddy doesn’t work,” Ciri replied, confused.

Jaskier’s face flickered sadness before he shut that emotion away. “No, he’s going to ask me questions.”

“Ohhh.” Ciri nodded wisely and continued eating.

Geralt swallowed hard. Questions. He’d had a list of questions, hadn’t he? On his phone? He pulled his phone out of his pocket and navigated through his various note and writing apps until he found the one where he kept questions for professionals like doctors and lawyers. There, the list for the nanny. He opened it and slid it across the table to Jaskier.

Jaskier picked it up and read the first question out loud. “Do you have education related to caring for children? Actually, yes, my major in college was childcare. I’ve kept up to date on research and techniques, especially for younger children. How long have you been a nanny? About eight years, now; the first child was about ten and was sent to boarding school a year later, and the second child was a pair of twins. They were delightful, but I have very little training for special needs children, so I pointed their parents towards one of my colleagues who is trained. Do you know sign language? A little. I can converse in it, but I’m not an expert.”

Geralt listened hard as Jaskier worked down the list of questions, and grudgingly decided that Jaskier was a good enough fit. There were probably better nannies, but Geralt would never be able to afford them. So, when Jaskier handed the phone back, Geralt nodded and forced himself to say, “Good.”

“Daddy,” Ciri said suddenly, putting her spork down and reaching for him. “Breathe-hugs.”

Geralt obediently stood and picked her up, and hugged her tightly, facing away from Jaskier a little. Breathe-hugs. He kept forgetting his breathing exercises, but hugging Ciri helped him remember to calm down. This was only the fourth time that she had offered breathe-hugs before he thought of them. It made him feel terrible, that he leaned on her so much. But she was also the only thing still holding him to this shitty world.

He shouldn’t use his daughter as an anchor. He really shouldn’t.

After several deep breaths, he was calm enough to put her down again, and sit. He swallowed hard and said, “Thank you for answering my questions.”

Jaskier was frowning slightly. “You’re very welcome,” he replied. “Are you alright?”

Geralt nodded. “Do you have questions?” he asked, hands tightening on his elbows.

“Ah, yes, a few. Do you have any kind of steady income?”

“Yes,” Geralt said. “I get my unemployment check every month.”

Jaskier pursed his lips and frowned more. Then he asked cautiously, “How much will you be out of the house?”

“I… don’t know,” Geralt confessed. “I’m starting an internship on Monday, but I’m still not sure if I have a schedule yet.” That pained him worse than knowing the position was given to him out of pity.

“Paid internship?”

“...No.”

“Oh.” Jaskier tapped his finger on the table and bit his lip, then nodded firmly. “Well! I think we’ll suit well enough. What do you think, sir?”

Geralt blinked, then blurted, “I do too.”

“Excellent.” Jaskier beamed at him. “I’ll be by tomorrow morning to start.”

It was three weeks later and Geralt was a wreck.

Jaskier had started right out with telling Geralt that penning Ciri for most of the day was a terrible idea, and then showed him how to childproof the house.

“Pens are fine if you’re trying to train a puppy,” Jaskier explained, “But children aren’t puppies. She needs room. She needs to explore the house.”

“My father put me in a pen,” Geralt said hesitantly. “I turned out fine.”

Jaskier gave him an unimpressed look. “Nevertheless, Ciri isn’t you. Give her space to play.”

Ciri hadn’t known what to do without her pen, until Jaskier convinced her to play hide-and-seek. Then they had both run all over the house, hiding and laughing and exploring. Geralt’s heart was in his mouth the whole time, as he tried to make sure Ciri was safe and unhurt. The pen had been as much to keep her safe as it was meant to keep her where Geralt could find her.

After that, Jaskier went through the kitchen and declared that he was going to buy some frozen food and fresh veggies.

“Those are expensive,” Geralt blurted, alarmed.

Jaskier shook his head. “Not all of them. Bring Ciri, and I’ll show you the good deals.”

Geralt did not have a car safe enough to drive Ciri in. The one he used to drive was on its last legs, and so he usually either begged a ride from Eskel or took the bus with her. Jaskier frowned a little, and asked, “How long have you had that car?”

Geralt shrugged. “About twenty years,” he said.

So they took the bus, and Jaskier let Ciri sit in his lap and play with his necklace, which held a silver pendant shaped like a lute, with gold designs inlaid on it. They talked about animals, and Geralt kept his head down. The shame from being stared at like he was some sort of creep for having a daughter still roiled in his gut and made him nauseous.

Grocery shopping was strange, because Jaskier kept pointing out things that were cheap and Geralt had to tell him, over and over, in front of other people, “I only have fifty crowns, I can’t afford to spend it on only one week of food.”

Jaskier somehow negotiated him into buying some potatoes, and wretchedness settled on Geralt when he realized he wouldn’t have enough money to buy Ciri a present for two or three months. She had plenty of toys, though, surely she wouldn’t mind?

“Daddy, why are you sad?”

Geralt hugged Ciri closer and kissed her forehead. “I’m not sad, love.”

The internship was more draining than any other job he’d ever had. Everything was too loud, too fast, too hot, too much--but he had to do this. He had to be hired. Because he needed money for Ciri.

Jaskier kept Ciri company, and taught her songs, and bought her workbooks with her favorite cartoon characters. Most evenings, Geralt showered, changed clothes, and then slumped wherever they were and watched. It hurt, honestly, that she was so much happier with Jaskier. But, well, Jaskier was a better person in general.

And then on the third week of everything, Geralt completely broke down.

It was while he was making dinner. His nerveless fingers dropped the butter and the spoon, his knees buckled, and when he was crouched on the floor, rocking on his toes, he let himself whimper a little. He could not cry; he would not cry in front of Ciri. She didn’t deserve to see him be weak like this. But gods, he wanted to sleep, sleep forever, vanish from this planet and become nothing, so he would never feel or hurt or cry or disappoint or scare again.

A large, warm hand settled gently on his back. “You can go lay down,” Jaskier said gently beside him. “I can finish dinner. Go lay down, Geralt. It’s okay.”

So Geralt went to his room, and shut the door and laid down and let himself sob. Worthless, useless, couldn’t even keep a fucking internship long enough to be hired--

He must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes it was late at night. He sniffed, wiped his scratchy eyes, and got out of bed. Maybe there were some leftovers in the fridge. Probably not. Ciri had been eating so much lately, and her energy had gone through the roof. Geralt had to keep cutting down on his own portion so she would have enough. Was that why he was so exhausted and achey lately?

When he reached the kitchen, he blinked.

Jaskier was at the table with a laptop, looking grim. He had papers all over the table, and a thick notepad that he wrote in every few seconds. He looked up at Geralt in the doorway, and managed a tired smile. “Hey,” he whispered. “There’s food in the fridge. Ciri wanted to leave everything, but I convinced her to eat some.”

Geralt nodded and got the leftover soup and fried potatoes out of the fridge, not even bothering to heat them up before spooning some into a bowl and sitting down at the other side of the table to eat. He hurt. But because he wanted noise, any noise, to keep his thoughts away from the evil place in his head, he looked up at Jaskier and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Researching unemployment laws,” Jaskier answered, tapping a few keys and then scribbling on his notepad. “It’s illegal to pay you so little when you have a child. Did you know you’re supposed to get two thousand crowns a month?”

Geralt gaped at him. “Whuh… the lawyers told me I could only have eight hundred,” he replied, feeling another surge of confusion and self-hate boil up in his chest. “Because my brothers have jobs.”

Jaskier looked up sharply, and he looked livid. “They were basing their calculations on your brothers’ incomes?” he demanded.

Geralt flinched, and nodded. “They--they have custody of me,” he explained. “Because a judge ordered when I was nineteen that I have to have a guardian.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to gape. Then he asked, much more gently, “If they are your guardians, why don’t you live with them?”

“Because…” Geralt frowned, trying to remember. “Because the homeowner’s association forbade my brothers from taking me in. So they gave me money to buy this house, and moved to a new apartment. But when I bought the house, some attorneys came by and claimed I was violating court orders, so they took my inheritance.”

“That’s illegal!” Jaskier burst out, aghast. “Why would they do that?”

Geralt’s head was pounding and his breath was getting shorter. He didn’t like thinking about that year. He didn’t like it all. It was a clusterfuck of despair and confusion and terror and he didn’t want to think of it. “I don’t know,” he said, and his voice shook. “I don’t know.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to say something else, then thought better of it, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Geralt,” he said. “I shouldn’t have pried. But now we have some idea of what to do.”

“Huh?”

“Well, you’re being discriminated against, mistreated, and refused the help you need. So.” Jaskier steepled his fingers and grinned, eyes glinting fiercely. “We’re going to tear these fuckers apart.”

A year later, Geralt hated the memories of the confusion and rage of dealing with laws and lawyers and people casually threatening to take Ciri away from him if he didn’t shut up and go away. He hated them with the fury of the planet’s molten core.

But outcomes had been good.

His payments were raised to the legal amount. He was allowed to go to therapy and job training without being threatened. Ciri had new clothes and a new bed and new favorite foods. And Jaskier was not annoying anymore. On the contrary, he had become something much, much better.

Jaskier was still only the nanny. But Geralt had a plan, and it involved the engagement ring he bought on the one-year anniversary of hiring Jaskier.

#Geraskier #Geralt x Jaskier #The Witcher #OOF I could be convinced to expand on this

104 notes · View notes

aspiring-ginger · 4 years

Text

Words (Jaskier x Reader)

Request: Could you please do a Jaskier x reader, where the reader has had a rough, very upsetting day, so she goes to Jaskier and asks if he would sing to her to help her calm down? Gives them both a chance to vent, and she gives Jaskier the appreciation he DESERVES for his wonderful singing 😍

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1,705

Pairing(s): Jaskier x fem!reader (The Witcher)

Song: Words, by Gregory Alan Isakov

A/N: Here you go, nonnie! This took awhile, but I hope you liked it! This song has always been one of my favorites, and it instantly popped into my head while trying to think of songs Jaskier would sing. It’s very calming and beautiful, and I highly recommend giving it a listen! 💜

Comments and feedback are always appreciated!

Taglist: @thunderdog8 , @dreaming-about-starfleet , @dandelionwitcher

Masterlist

You nodded in thanks as a bowl of stew was placed in front of you. There was no way to tell what kind of meat was even in it, and what you thought were supposed to be vegetables were just grey chunks. Maybe it was some sort of dumpling? Either way, it looked disgusting. But it was hot, and that’s all that mattered.

You’ve been travelling with Geralt and Jaskier for some time now, and it honestly feels like you’ve been on the road forever. It had taken at least an hour’s worth of pestering from both you and the bard to convince Geralt to stop for the night at some unnoteworthy small town, instead of pressing on before camping for the night. So, at least this food was hot and not hunted and cooked before your very eyes. There was a chunk of bread to go with it, but as you moved it to grab your spoon, it fell to the table with a thud. That thing was stale.

Honestly, you didn’t expect any better from this stupid town. Your day was spent arguing with shopkeepers who overpriced their goods just for you. Literally, A man looking through the same wares as you was given a lower price, but when you approached the owners with the same items, they raised the price. You had a sneaking suspicion it was because of your disheveled appearance, and the fact that you were a woman carrying a weapon.

That was just ridiculously stupid, as you were travelling on the road with a gods forsaken witcher. Of course you needed weapons to protect yourself. It didn’t matter if you actually used them or not, but both Jaskier and Geralt felt better with you having one.

Anyway, while Geralt was off seeking any contracts or work suited for a witcher, Jaskier sought out any rich families who might want his musical entertainment for the night. After all, once you’ve seen one tavern, you might as well have seen them all, so playing in one was not quite exciting. Although as much as the bard would complain about his songs and skill being much too good for such a tavern, money was money and he would still play if need be. So that left you with the task of restocking and repairing equipment, as well as tending to the horses.

Your body was still sore from your second task, and you absolutely reeked of horse. While leading Roach and Jaskier’s new horse (who seemed to have a new name every day as Jaskier was very indecisive) into the tavern’s stables, something must’ve spooked the horses and some idiot hadn’t properly taken care of their horse. The frightened mare broke free and ran straight into you, knocking you down into a fresh pile of horse dung. Of course.

It had just been a shit day overall, and you wanted nothing more than some food in your stomach, although this ‘stew’ in front of you didn’t look particularly appealing, and a hot bath. You grimaced and chewed through your dinner, trying to ignore the strange textures from...whatever it was that you were actually eating. You didn’t even bother with the bread, it was way too hard to chew, and just wasn’t worth the effort. You shoveled the slop as into your mouth as quick as you could, desperate to get on with the meal and hop straight in the bath. Of course the universe just wanted you to be absolutely miserable, because when asked about the baths the innkeep directed you in the right direction, but there was no hot water. Cold water only.

You had to take a deep breath to hold your tears of frustration at bay before you stomped up the stairs. There was no way you were letting this horrible town get the best of you and see you cry.

Just as you expected- the baths were freezing. You did your best to get yourself clean, shivering as you scrubbed. It would have to make do. Once you were clean and not a second after, you hopped out of the bath and trudged up to your shared room with Jaskier.

You weren’t sure if you wanted him to comfort you or simply let out your frustrations alone. These were all very silly things to get upset for, but you were already in a foul mood to begin with, and the world’s punishments were seemingly endless. It was very silly, so you should be able to deal with whatever life handed you. You cursed to yourself as you thought this, your eyes welling up once again.

It seemed you didn’t have a choice in the matter- as you opened the door you saw Jaskier in a chair against the wall, lute in hand and bits of parchment crumpled and strewn about the floor around him. You mumbled a greeting as you headed straight for the bed, plopping yourself down and not even bothering with the blankets. Jaskier looked up from his notebook and furrowed his brows in concern.

“Are you alright, love? You didn’t even say hello.”

You didn’t respond.

“Darling? What’s wrong?” He gently placed his lute on the floor and stood from his seat.

“Just a bad day, that’s all. Don’t stop working on a song just because of me.” Your voice was muffled from the pillows. There was a pause as you heard shuffling around you. The mattress dipped as Jaskier sat down.

“It’s okay, love. I want to hear how your day was. If something’s the matter I want to help.” He reached out a hand and began to gently massage your back.

“Shitty,” You grumbled.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head. “ Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” You thought for a moment and then shrugged.

It was comforting just being in your lover’s presence, but you didn’t know what he could do to make your day better. You felt bad interrupting his work. Jaskier just waited, rubbing circles and miscellaneous shapes into your back.

“Maybe….you could sing for me? Show me what it is you’re working on?” You asked.

Jaskier shifted and his hand stilled. “Well, I had this song almost finished and ready to go, but when I showed it to Geralt, he just said it was worthless. I’m sure you don’t want to hear that. It’ll take some time for me to rewrite everything to make it good, if any of it is actually salvageable. Are you sure you don’t want to hear a different song?”

You frowned and turned your head to face him. “Geralt didn’t actually say that, did he?” He nodded. “Well that’s stupid, your songs are always good and Geralt has no idea what he’s saying. You said it was almost finished, I want to hear it.”

He sighed. “Would that help you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Alright fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Nothing I’ve written lately has been any good.”

You didn’t respond and waited for him to begin.

“I erm, I had you in mind when I wrote this, but I don’t think it does you any justice, and I love you so much and I just want it to be perfect for you, because you deserve the best and nothing less.” Jaskier rambled.

“Julian. I’m sure I’ll love it. Just play.”

He sighed when you used his full name, and picked up his lute. He began to strum a few notes to get back into the rhythm, then he began to sing. His soft voice carried around the room as he gently plucked each string.

“Words mean more at night

Like a song

And did you ever notice

The way light means more than it did all day long?

Words mean more at night

Light means more

Like your hair and your face and your smile

And our bed and the dress that you wore

So i'll send you my words

From the corners of my room

And though I write them by the light of day

Please read them by the light of the moon

And I wish I could leave my bones and my skin

And float over the tired tired sea

So that I could see you again

Maybe you would leave too

And we'd blindly pass each other

Floating over the ocean blue

Just to find the warm bed of our lover

And i'll send you my words

From the corners of my room

And though I write them by the light of day

Please read them by the light of the moon”

The tears that had been threatening to spill all day finally broke through, spilling down your cheeks and staining the pillows.

“I-It’s really meant to be more of a poem talking about a song, or just a poem, but I thought that it would sound best with music, but obviously it needs a lot of work…” He began, wringing his hands and playing with the ring around his finger.

“Oh, Julian.” His head snapped up when he heard your sniffles. “That was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Geralt is a fool for not appreciating your work.”

“(y/n), please don’t cry, I-”

“No, Jaskier. I’m crying because I’ve had a terrible day and you just played one of the sweetest songs for me. These are good tears.”

Jaskier smiled as he climbed back into bed with you.

“I loved it.” You were quick to fall into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You really think so?” He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

“Of course. It was wonderful.”

“I love you with all my heart, (y/n).” He murmured into your hair.

“And I love you.” You snuggled closer, letting a few stray tears drip onto his shirt.

Jaskier held you like this for a long time, whispering sweet words when tears would begin to fall again. As he heard your breathing slow, he hummed the melody one more time. There was a small smile on your face as you drifted off to sleep, knowing that you were safe in his arms.

Taglist and Requests are open!

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #dandelion #dandelion imagine #dandelion x reader #dandelion x you #jaskier x you #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher netflix x reader #the witcher netflix imagine #the witcher netflix x you #my writing #request #anon #anon request #the witcher netflix

74 notes · View notes