#it’s an AU so Lucio’s hand is different but not ignored

[seeminglyseph]

Man idk. Another wip tonight but it does resemble more a polished drawing than many of the last ones…

Like honestly Lake partially got top surgery for dysphoria reasons, but also because after like 25 big tits are just heavy and uncomfortable. When I don’t gotta carry them they are very fun to draw, so I am giving myself a treat in the form of some like solid H cups…

[thefools-journey]

So. Some of you may be wondering why we haven’t written a whole ton about the secondaries or what have you. Here’s the reason: we were waiting for them to end before we really dug into the problems we were noticing. We felt that it was only fair to wait for the routes to finish so that we had an understanding of the writers’ vision. Who knew, we thought, maybe they would see the problems themselves and course correct, maybe they are building to something we can’t quite see yet and these issues will have actual payoff, maybe-

In light of Muriel and Lucio’s endings, and the general mess that has dominated Portia’s route for a year plus now, we are breaking our silence. We are actually going to talk about this shit show.

The fandom at large has talked about a bunch of issues with the secondaries but for me, the cardinal sin, the thing that really all the issues lead back to, is this: the writers lost sight of the tarot themes which so strongly defined and held together the primary routes. Let me explain.

The primary routes each center around three thematic cores:

The Love Interest’s Major Arcana and its Reversed/Upright meanings

The MC’s Fool’s Journey, both how it can go right and how it can go wrong

A question about the MC’s identity and their relationship to said identity

Asra’s route asks: Who was the MC? How does the MC navigate a past they cannot and will not remember? What do they owe a past they cannot remember? How do they handle the revelations of what Asra, Nadia, Julian, etc did? How do you right the past? Can you?

Nadia’s route asks: Who is the MC? The MC has no past. Are they the Fool only? Are they actually the same person they were? How can they tell? Who are they, really? Are they an imposter? No one can answer these questions for them.

Julian’s route asks: Who will the MC become? How does the MC see their future? Is there anything worth fighting for for that future? What will become of them and their loved ones? 

Now, if you notice, these themes are expertly woven throughout the primaries. Asra’s past dominates his route, Nadia is also missing memories and trying to construct her identity both with her family and with Vesuvia, and Julian’s fear of the future drives his flailing for control. Asra has to learn to take a broader view of his actions to get his Upright Ending, Nadia has to learn to trust herself and those around her for hers, and Julian has to learn how to let go for his. These lessons are the issues their cards stand for. The primaries are so dang elegant and delicate in their handlings of theme it is honestly awe-inspiring.

Thematically, the secondary routes have completely lost their hearts. First of all, the MC does not have strong, core questions which need to be answered. They just don’t. I suppose the writers did not want to retread old territory (which is weird considering how tightly bound the primaries are; it really tricks you into thinking you’re living the same events but from different angles depending on your route) but they did not replace the old with anything new. Muriel’s route is, on the surface, about discovering and owning his past, the good and the bad. Why not tie MC’s self-discovery to that story? Or they could have taken the angle that Muriel’s route is about convincing him to be present and active in the world while MC builds an identity for themself outside of Asra, the shop, and the memories they cannot retrieve. Why not tie the investigation themes running through Portia’s early route back to MC and their past? Portia has the unique angle of being as in the dark as MC about all of this, why not discover the past together? And for goodness’ sake, Lucio has no future when his route begins, why not tie that to his need for growth, responsibility, and MC’s own future between the Fool, the Devil, or something mortal and in between?

Secondly, the routes lost their tarot backbone. We have a primer on how to get specific endings for each LI and it still holds, but the writers did not follow through on the thematic coherence of each secondary. The Hermit is looking for something, be it perspective, insight, a solution to a problem, whatever. The key here is that the Hermit must find or learn what they are searching for, this thing must change their understanding of the world, and finally, they must bring this lesson back to the world from which they retreated. Can someone please enlighten me as what exactly Muriel learns then teaches the world around him? Nothing Muriel learns from Morga, MC, or even the Hermit ties back into anything. The Devil warns that you are out of control and exerting a lot of manipulative, destructive behavior on the world around you. It asks you to take responsibility for yourself and your actions. So can someone tell me why Lucio’s route actively avoids any interaction or reflection on two of Lucio’s biggest victims: Muriel and Julian? Why does the route only try to make amends with the “easier” of his victims in the cast? The Star is first and foremost the card of clarity, the light at the end of the tunnel. Perseverance, if you will. Yet Portia’s route has been the muddiest of the trio; the writers drop the investigation aspect of her route in favor just handing her and MC information they could have easily found and muddying the waters with Tasya (she blows up the palace but it’s all okay bc she has a secret daughter Julian never thought to bring up or mention) and the complete removal of the Devil as antagonist. 

So that leaves just the Fool’s Journey trying to hold this stool up with only one leg. And well...it doesn’t go well. At best, the secondary route books pay the barest surface level homage to the themes of the individual cards. At worst, they ignore the cards completely. Muriel's Moon book has nothing to do with illusions or delusions or lies or even an Alice in the Looking Glass upside down world. Portia's back half is a complete and utter mess, starting with her Temperance book being so badly mangled that Muriel's aftermath book does it better. Lucio's route too bungles the Tower and the Star. There just isn't enough here to carry the routes alone.

Add to the core loss the loss of intertextuality. The primary routes are very good, even great but they too do have their moments and mistakes. What helps strengthen them when the cores stumble is how the trio is woven together. Things you learn in Asra's route can inform the way you play Nadia's, for example. Julian's route informs what is going on in Asra's route and slots some missing puzzle pieces together. Nadia's route tells you of the power struggles she is facing and informs the other two routes' handling of Julian and his trial. On and on, the three routes support each other because they are built out of the same basic plot beats, just tackled in very different ways. Now, the writers are allowed to try and write whatever they want. They apparently wanted to be more experimental and less tied down to an overarching plot with the three secondaries. Okay, fine, they are allowed to do that. The problem is that they sacrificed one of the key strengths of the primary trio and didn't replace said strength with anything else. They also, on some level, harmed the very premise of the game, which is that only the player's choices and route selected change the overall plot. Instead of feeling like legitimate possibilities or offshoots of the same timeline/plot, the secondaries feel almost like Arcana AUs. The secondaries throw out all relations to the primaries and each other as quickly as possible and for what? 

It is probably the height of arrogance to suggest fixes for works whose behind the scenes I do not know. At the same time, some small, obvious changes could have salvaged Muriel and maybe Lucio's endings (rip Portia). Instead of having the Hermit appear as a disappointing cameo, why not have him say something cryptic to Muriel, then have MC start trying to seal the Devil. Then let Muriel use his forget me mark to cloak MC and hide them from the Devil's attacks. Protecting MC by hiding them from Lucio, keeping him focused on Muriel, seems to me a simple third solution between Muriel's desire to run and his desire to never fight again. It lets him stand up to Lucio and let him have it while holding onto who Muriel has become. The Reversed End would have MC try to draw Lucio's attention at some point, disrupting the sealing, and eventually leading to Muriel killing the Devil. With Lucio's Upright End, I just have to ask: why doesn't MC fully claim the power of the Fool instead of the Devil? We don't need the other Arcana involved in this fight; we have three routes that demonstrate that. Just have MC pull Scout into the conflict, then have Lucio tell MC he believes in them, then add his power to the mix. You got yourself a full Fool who leaves Scout guarding the realm until they and Lucio's mortal bodies fail and they return to the realm to be together forever. Boom, you're done, you can even add some ambiguous lines so that players can decide how happy their MC is with this arrangement, send me the check.

Here is the bottom line. Our group is full of aroace, and several combinations therein, individuals. We are the last group who should have gotten into a dating sim of all things. But the Arcana did something with the primaries that was special; they wrote a compelling plot with dazzling lore, complex characters, and strong themes wrapped up in a dating sim bow. The writers know better and we know they know better. I do not know what happened with the secondaries, especially around books 10-11, which is where minor issues slowly start spiraling into major ones, but it is clear that Nix Hydra needed some more planning before they released these routes. Hopefully they will learn.

TL;DR: Nix Hydra fired their tarot consultants about eighteen months ago and it has wrecked their secondary routes until they were just embarrassments. They never intended for the secondary routes to even exist and once they had to make them, they scrambled and threw out everything that made the primaries work.

- Mod Telos

[creamecream]

Arcana AUs

Names are based off of specific things, or are honestly just because I thought they sounded good.

-Dancer AU-

-Premise

Former member of an dancing/entertainment troupe, Rinina is bought from their troupe by king Lucio to be a royal consort after he became smitten with them while they were preforming for the king and queen’s anniversary. Rinina rejects Lucio’s advances and instead falls for the court wizard, Asra. they currently spend their days hiding from Lucio, scared to death of what he’ll do to them once he gets bored of actually waiting for their consent.

Asra is currently brewing up a way to kill Lucio and secret Rinina away at the same time.

Alverio is the palace gardener, whom queen Nadia is lusting after, but who Nadia won’t let herself have because she is afraid of corrupting his innocent soul.

Pirouette was a medicinal healer who made the only thing that could cure queen Nadia’s headaches, up until when Valerius, a high ranking member of the royal court, became smitten with him when he went to retrieve the queen’s medicine, and had him kidnapped and shackled in his bedroom. Pirouette is now constantly locked in Valerius’ room, kept like a pet. his one saving grace is the times he manages to slip out into the gardens and spend time with Muriel.

Muriel is Asra’s herb supplier. and he wishes to whisk Pirouette away once Asra puts into action the murder of Lucio.

-Ships: Asra x Rinina. Primrose x Rinina. Muriel x Pirouette. Lycoris x Pirouette. forced Lucio x Rinina. forced Valerius x Pirouette.

-Infected Plague Doctor AU-

-Premise

AKA: Bad End AU

Rinina, in an effort to cure the plague, makes several deals with different Arcana and loses their mind. the deals involve Rinina needing to remove all the current plague infection from Vesuvia, which means to them that they need to remove all infected body parts from all civilians. this includes Julian’s visibly infected eye, which they managed to remove before he escaped. they now keep the eye in a jar on their shelves and talk to it as if it were Julian himself.

Valdemar is Rinina’s partner, both in the medical field and romantically/sexually. Valdemar is extremely pleased and impressed with the amount of plague and arcana energy Rinina holds in their body, and is currently looking into a way to combine Rinina and their own, particularly hoping by forcing Rinina to bare their child.

Alverio, in order to keep his plague infection at bay, lures people and then steals their souls/arcane energy. the plant magician leaves a slew of empty bodies/husks in his wake who have flowers protruding from where he stole their energy from. Rinina extremely appreciates this as they clean up the bodies in the mornings and uses the husks as experimental cadavers.

Pirouette is kept ignorant and unaware of the horrors occurring around him. he is kept obsessively safe by Valerius, locked in his room and not allowed to leave. he is basically kept as a blissfully unaware pet.

Once Vesivua went to shambles, Daphne ran away with Asra. Daphne is currently working on a cure with Asra and Primrose, but she doesn’t dip into Rinina’s dreams as the other two do, instead opting to work quietly.

-Ships: Valdemar x Rinina. confused Alverio x Calypso. Valerius x Pirouette

-Modern AU-

-Premise

Rinina works at a company owned by Lucio, and suffers constant sexual harassment from him. Rinina lives with Asra and Primrose, who have noticed Rinina’s mood dropping ever since they started working under Lucio, even though Rinina tells them nothing is wrong and they refuse to quit. Rinina works closely with Julian, and one time ends up breaking down to him and confessing all their concerns and worries, the two have been becoming noticeably closer ever since.

Alverio runs the flower shop down the street from Rinina’s work. the man has currently not noticed how his cousin’s boss’ wife and the local internet celebrity come nearly everyday to retrieve more flowers than they could possibly need.

Daphne works at a quiet bookstore and helps in Alverio’s flower shop whenever she has time. she is currently unaware of the small ginger haired girl who frequents the café across the street and seems to stare at her while she works.

Pirouette works for the same company as Rinina, but he is lower in position so he doesn’t have much interaction with Lucio. he does however spend a lot of time with Lucio’s personal assistant, Valerius, as well as his co-worker, Muriel, and he hasn’t seemed to be aware of how the two appear to be competing for his affections and attention.

-Ships: Julian x Rinina. unaware Alverio x Calypso x Nadia. forced Lucio x Rinina. unaware Valerius x Pirouette. unaware Muriel x Pirouette.

-Gladiator AU-

-Premise

After rejecting Lucio’s advances, Rinina is placed in the arena to fight for their life, or until they agree to be with Lucio.

Asra and Rinina met after a match while Asra was tending to Muriel, and the two of them seem to be becoming closer.

-Ships: Asra x Rinina

-Merpprentice AU-

-Premise

Rinina is a merperson who has fallen in love with a wizard, a human.

Asra frequently uses his magic to transform himself into a merperson to spend time in the sea with Rinina, but it takes a lot out of him, and Rinina is a deep water mer, so it takes a lot out of the both of them to try to spend time together.

-Ships: Asra x Rinina

-Phantom of The Opera AU-

-Premise

Pirouette is Christine, hierophant!Valerius is Erik.

-Ships: Valerius x Pirouette. Lycoris x Pirouette. Muriel x Pirouette.

-Dragon Age AU-

-Premise

What it says on the tin, an AU set in Dragon Age. Rinina features as a half elf rogue.

-Ships: Primrose x Rinina.

-Four Kingdom Heirs AU-

-Premise

Alverio is the crown prince of a kingdom, his cousins are as well but he is the crown prince. thus he spends the most time dealing with others and he has a guard unit trailing him, particularly guard captain Evanna. Alverio has fallen in love with a queen from another kingdom, but Nadia is already married to Lucio.

Rinina is about to be married to Asra when traveler/ambassador Primrose arrives in their kingdom, and both Rinina and their betroth both instantly fall for Primrose, and both are currently trying to woo Primrose, but they seem to have forgotten to mention to Prim that they are open to polyamories relationships, as Primrose is scared they are breaking a marriage up if they take either of them up on their offers.

Princess Daphne has fallen for a lowly servant Portia, and is currently trying to make her way out of an arranged marriage and convince her mother that Portia is worthy of her hand instead.

Pirouette is forced to dress and use feminine pronouns by his parents, and in order to spite them he has begun an scandalous relationship with his teacher, Valerius. and as well he sneaks out frequently, donning the clothes he actually wants to wear and using the pronouns he actually prefers. passing himself off as a ordinary young thief and spending time with Muriel.

-Ships: Asra x Rinina x Primrose. Nadia x Alverio. Lucio x Nadia. Muriel x Pirouette. Valerius x Pirouette. Portia x Daphne.

-Monster AU-

-Premise

Everyone is a cryptid creature!

-Ships: Unknown currently.

-Witch Hunt AU-

-Premise

Magicians are witches. all the witches in Vesuvia belong to a coven.

Following Rinina’s rejection of his advances, and then finding them kissing Asra, Lucio starts lynching all the witches in Vesuvia, trying to force Rinina into obeying him by destroying the coven.

Before the lynches started, Rinina was trapped by Lucio and shoved into the dungeons, and they are constantly starved and beaten as Lucio tries to break their resolve.

Lucio once mentioned how much he loves Rinina’s hair whilst stroking it, so to spite him, they yanked a sharp object off of his outfit and cut their hair off to throw it in their face. they were beaten for it, but they don’t regret it.

Daphne ran from Vesuvia once Portia refused to leave with her when the lynches started. currently her whereabouts are unknown.

Portia refused to leave in order to watch over and take care of Nadia, but she has just recently discovered her own magic prowess, and is terrified of being discovered

Alverio has secreted himself away into the woods, hoping to build up an army of plants and animals in order to stage a coop on Vesuvia and safe his cousin. he only leaves the forest to continue his affair with Vesuvia’s countess.

Asra is planning to overthrow Lucio and kill him to save Rinina.

Pirouette is undercover as a medical tea producer, as he refused to leave Vesuvia once the lynches started, unable to remove himself from the suffering going on around him. Pirouette passes out his calming teas for free nearly everyday, trying to ease some of the worries of the Vesuvian people. Pirouette is committed to Muriel, and didn’t notice the hungry glances he started to get from a high ranking member of Lucio’s court. Valerius is threatening to out Pirouette as a witch if he doesn’t leave Muriel and come to his bed instead.

-Ships: Asra x Rinina. Julian x Callisto. forced Lucio x Rinina. forced Valerius x Pirouette. Muriel x Pirouette. Nadia x Alverio.

-Courtly Servant AU-

-Premise

The apprentices are the assistances/apprentices of the couriers.

Rinina is Valdemar’s apprentice, and is nearly just as scared of them as in canon they don’t scream at the sight of them, but Valdemar takes a sick delight in frightening them and sneaks up on them and corners them frequently to terrify them.

Pirouette is Vulgora’s assistant, and is visibly frightened by them. Valerius is very intent on getting Pirouette transferred to him instead.

Daphne is Vlastomil’s assistant, being chosen by him because of her connection with the earth, which gives her an uncanny ability to find and extract worms from the earth. Daphne seems to take great delight in these worm related ventures.

-Ships: Valdemar x Callisto. unaware Valerius x Pirouette.

[emile-hides]

Junkrat X Lynx Seventeen

I’m still caught on this apparently and I just can’t stop thinking about it.

This isn’t a fic this is just a run down of what happens in the scenario of Junkrat and Lynx17 kiss and Junkrat really likes it. But it’s long so it’s going under the cut.

Takes place in my Everyone is here AU (Name will continue to change)

So first, Lynx17 is absolute Overwatch Special Heroes Unit worthy. They’re recommended by chairman of Volskya Industries, and Overwatch needs more Omnics anyway.

They show up and there’s a welcome party because Tracer can’t contain her excitement with new friends.

They fit right into the 20-something’s friend group of D.Va, Lucio, Mei, Genji, and of course, Junkrat.

Jamie’s a little less Omnic hostile, sense Roadhog has had his therapy and is also calming down around Omnics. So he’s not as cut throat to Lynx, but the two have this obvious sass spitting tension around them.

And like the dumb 20-something’s the group is, they start playing Truth or Dare.

“I dare Jamison to kiss Lynx17″ Hana why are you like this.

“Kiss what?? Mate don’t even got any lips!”

“That sounds like an excuse. What? Scared you’ll like it, Ratman?” Lynx has no fear.

And neither does Junkrat and he refuses to step back from a challenge so yeah he kisses the bot and

Shit it’s good.

How can kissing metal be good?? Who knows. But he likes it. They both do.

Sparks zap between Lynx’s antenna, they reach out to grip onto Jamision.

The Junker pulls away, complains about having to get this taste off his lips, and sprints away as fast and he can with a beet red face

The rest of the group assures Lynx17 that Jamison just needed a chance to escape he likes you trust us we’ve all been there.

Next day, Junkrat still refusing to admit liking a bot pins Lynx to a wall in the hallway.

“I’m gonna kiss you again, and this time, it means nothin.”

“It meant something before?” Lynx stop.

Junkrat kisses Lynx again and it’s the same, but more.

More not because Lynx is against a wall, their hands quickly find themselves gripping Jamison’s shirt.

Jamie’s hands are on their waist. They’re closer now. Is Jamie grinding into their thigh? That’s new.

They’re both a mess. This is going on too long.

It’s cut to a halt when Jack Morrison comes around the corner and slams his hand on the wall, claiming the hallway is no place for PTA.

Gabe sips his coffee, knowing first hand the hall is the best place for rough make-out sessions. 

Junkrat scrambles off, leaving Lynx17 to slide down the wall in a scrapped pile of over exertion.

After some deep conversation with Roadhog, Junkrat builds up his courage to go about this new development in his life the same way he always does.

Ignore it.

Not ignore Lynx, no, but just. Ignore that they’re a bot. Treat ‘em just like his other crushes.

The next day he causally throws his arm around Lynx. By causally I mean stiffly because he’s still getting use to it.

The 20-something group can see the stiffness in Junkrat’s movements, and the confusion in Lynx’s antenna, but ignore it for now.

Junkrat’s always been an affectionate person. He falls in love hard and easy, and he tends to be clingy with people he likes. Lynx is no exeption, it just takes a while to get use to clinging to a bot.

Weeks pass and eventually Junkrat’s just as causal with Lynx as he is Lucio or Mei, possibly even as all over them as he is with Roadhog.

One day Jamie, Lucio, and Hana are all hanging out in Lynx’s room. They’d just finished fixing that old TV Junkrat found in the scrap yard and they all want to play on the Gamecube Hana bought.

Junkrat, sprawled out on Lynx’s bed, complains it’s stiff as hell.

Lynx says that’s because they don’t use it, dipshit, they “sleep” at their computer desk most the time. It’s just there encase a human ever spends the night.

Junkrat makes an off comment about breaking the bed in.

Hana jokes about how if anyone could break a bed it’s be Junkrat.

They stay late playing video games, but eventually Lucio drags Hana away because Junkrat’s been hung up on Lynx’s bed all day and Lucio has the braincell of this friend group.

Now, Junkrat’s had sex.

With Roadhog, a lot.

A few nights with Lucio as well.

But this. With Lynx. Was different.

Not different like he likes them better than Roadhog or Lucio or Mei.

But Different in a... We could do this again kinda way.

And they could.

If Junkrat hadn’t broken the bed frame bouncing on it the next morning.

[smallgayblanket]

New/revised/whatever- List of stuff

Egos (Marks/Jacks) that I have written for or at least actually have thought about HCS/other universes for:  (Just some brief rambles about them, please don't hesitate to ask about them :3)

  -Anti,   Two takes really, I like him soft, like him mean, hes just fun to write, plenty of different ways to spin why he acts out, what he is and all that. My current fav way to portray him is a missing piece of Seans soul, which means hes unstable as a ‘person’ (cough, not really a human but not, not human either.)  And how he has static filled blue eyes but usually hides them with the scary emerald green...

-Jameson,  I will always stand by this kinda universe i created with a friend aages ao that Shawn took away Jamesons voice when being puppeteered by an awful ink creature that shares his body.  Giving Jameson a lovely fear of knives, some scars, and some very damaged vocals..

-Crank, Oh my fucking boi, a near dead human spliced with a bunch of robot parts..human skin tangled with wires and a heart incased in metal..hes a right mess, a voice in his head that makes him feel all sorts of bad.. He tries his best..he cries oil,  I hardly get to write  him but I love him.

-Blank, another big fav oi, black hollow eyes..a tendency to faint... My Hc involves him having been in an accident that almost killed him, leaving him with a very rare heart condition. He also has an aura which..kinda ties into him having a few abilities and stuff. 

-Nes.. He started off as my own kinda Ethan ego, basically Ethan who was mistreated and really lost his marbles..hes great for the real twisted messed up kinda stuff, so dependant on others, a minor murderer, and has been eyed off by a certain ice cream driver for quite some time...

-Were eth,  Okay granted this was literally just kinda an idea that..Eth became a were wolf boi, fangs, tail, ears. Hes just a fun lil pupper

-Eden. Succubus Ethan basically, but well, he again kinda turned into his own thing separate from Ethan. He's got a tail and wings, and hes a lovely lithe thing. He doesnt dare do things without consent, just gets a bit touchy-feely when hes gone without any energy for too long. Very wide stunning saphire eyes. 

- Jackie  Oh my lad..Buff, trans, adorable, sweet. I always love tinkering around with how/what powers he has tbh..and like- I’ve always had the hc that his eyes are lilac?? or gold. Depending on things.. and he works either at a comic book store, a gym, or at the counter of a gas station. Gives the best hugs. Also I love AUS where hes a phoniex because of uhm?? Big fucking red wings??? YES.

-Hen, Getting his accent right is tough but other than that I love writing about the tired doctor living off coffee and ignoring himself in favor of others. 

-Chase The fucking best dad, sunshine lad. Running a vlogging channel and doing his best while combatting depression..I hc him to have chronic fatigue so he has to push himself extra hard. but He does well in trying to get better and look after himself and only slips up like any other helpless human. Very fun to write. 

- Robbie.   Sof.t zombie lad. Drown in a sweater. Stutters and is v quiet. Slow with speech. Struggles to see sometimes. Loves soft textures.Loves attention. Overall soft fucking lad.

-KOTS, To mean known as Simon. Actually v smart, big brain, very scattered n shy and nervous and squirrelish. Loves books n plants, loves nature. Red is his best colour. Warm sweaters and nuzzling and cuddling up. I always get torn between him being a hybrid of human/squirrel or just a lovely soft guy. 

-Yan ! My fem nb/trans gal! They’ll kick ass with their katana, have the hots for Bim, and looove Japanese culture and stuff. Very adorable. Loves pink. 10/10 love to write. 

-Technically I do have a muse for Mark, or..idea? I’m thinking about shoving it into my own oc/thing..but basically he got tortured n abused by Authy so hes not quite like the real life markimoo..just a nervous mess whose dealing with his traumas..

-Bing, Skater lad, yellow/orange eyes, sunflower vibes. Tries his best, clumsy as fuck, great for a laugh when hes not cowering under google. 

-Edward iplier,  Gah my doctor lad.. I have a hc that he Lost arm. In fire..or by dark n wilf.  He has heterochromia too!! One cho ceye one blue one. He is a fucking nerd (Minor adhd lets be honest) He fucking loves space and science and space/science related lights. He has a bat plus with spacey wings. He likes reading, likes being clean and is quite a quiet indulger in food which has left him with a big of a softer figure. Super gentle nature..nothing like the arrogant portrayal we got in some videos. 

-Angus   I love this man!!! Part Aussie, part irish, a whole lot of gruff old dad with a soft spot for nice people and animals, has his own big place, next to a large ass forest. Loads of scars. Loves boots and cameo coloured clothing. A lovely guy when you get past the rough edges. 

Aand onto all my ocs as of writing this (cause you name well know I be writing new ones like..all the time.) 

--------------------

OC’S (My original characters!)

-Jessy, Cowboy-   Choker with gold bell. Lil ears/horns. Spots. Shy but sweet. Hands and feet different colour to rest of skin. Kinda  fur ish feeling rather then just straight-up skin.  Pear shaped figure. Shy lad. Likes to take lots of naps, anxious easily but a big people pleaser too. 

-Ailan and Keros. Moth n butterfly boi.  (Literally just made up with a friend, just a random soft pair of lads tbh nothing too fleshed or spesh)

- Louie - Followed by a dark being/creature/spirit... Yet to determine what else about him, but hes got brown hair, pointed ears and looks lovely in green.

-Quinton  A Hybrid of Demon and Angel otherwise called a Guardian. Quirky, Pan as shit, great dress sense. Extremely calm. Can see auras. Lovely black feathered wings. Bright blue hair.  Kind smile. Works at a little coffee shop in his spare time.

-Ori  Very pure angel boy, previously owned and not very well treated by a god, came crashing down to earth with no memories but his wings intact. Some help him. 

-Lumi  Ghost boy! Died years ago under awful circumstances..now lingers around on earth, sometimes meeting humans who happen to be able to feel or see his presence, he has the ability to make himself solid for short periods of time. 

- Lucio Witchy..dragon soul something or other- Deaf.Paralyzed? In the arms??They might use alot of energy trying to hover around instead of having to use a chair..(I mean how many witches do you see with chairs??).. Although they could not have use of their arms instead, like..paralyzed from the shoulder down- they still have them but theyre effectively useless and easily sore.. (which might make magic really hard, cause theyd have to master it again without their hand gestures.)

- Eztli, Bit of a prick. Basically got cursed to have really weird blood that replished and rejuvinated too fast/too much by a witch he angered. So he turned the curse into a good thing and basically goes out offering himself as a human blood bag for vamps willing to pay in info, items, cash or uh..other services..  

- Gallio Photographer, has hypocalcemia. Haven't really done much else with him tbh.

-Aomi Warlock/witch in training. Downright awful at it. Young and lives in a nice lil cottage outside of the village he was abandoned in.

- Lucas A moonstone gem perma-fusion, he kinda has SPD/DID but he doesn't, cause..hes two gems that became one but not fully. Leaving him to be a bit of a mess and not as strong as other moonstones. 

- Kiyan. A little assistant android!! Created to assist, he can make portals!, He works at a post office. Hes under surveillance by the company that made him and isnt yet aware of many human customs/emotions.. 

- Alex  A very confused, overly optimist Alien who doesn’t know what they are. Come from the planet Eutychia, 4'3. They fucking glow. You know  Kilowatt from space chimps? think that. But hair n freckles and more human and just as  bubbly and energetic. 

-Locus  Mer/Fish boi!  Transparent fins, glowy patches, plays harp + loves music.

-Lir  A Tiny Octopus/Human hybrid lad. Makes little burble and trill noises. Quite harmless. Needs a home. 

Benji (Strawberry shortcake boi- Cursed tape /bandages. Demi half god.? One eye. Uses notes. To communicate but also sign. Really. Good sweets maker)

 Small bois (A collection of tinys because G/T is fucking great okay?)

- Tobias. Literally Made of hair gel. cleary, adorable, aaand Eats soap..amoung other non food items he probably should not ingest but does..

- Hinto  Guy made of foam slime. Very chill n laid back.

- Glowstick bubs. (Alo/aloke -  Green and blue  +  Siro - Yellow n pink.  + Mavi (Vi) Red and silver. + Roxy (Ro) - Orange and  purple )  They’re a cross between glowsticks and lava lamps and its epic- asides the fact they have like.half a brain cell each. Lots of sleeping n lazign around.

- Theo  A tiny ink creature.  A clever little lad, who likes to drawn and write n paint in ink and leave cheeky little black splotches everywhere. A very good writer companion tho. 

- JellyBubs! A collection of tiny sentient jelly babies, hungry lads will raid your cupboards. 

-Miel A tiny little bee boy! Loves flowers <3 

Apocolyse Squad:

The planet Keres,  Left uninhabitable after the invasion that ruined the air and killed almost the entire race.

Sameal o’Ceirin (Being of smoke- partly blind.)

Mallory Thomas (Part cat. Vet, partner to Sam who ends up dying in the canon of their story)

Hamrish Benat  (Hayden. 4 eyes, soft tongue. PTSD. extra tiny heart in wrist. Quite fem/soft. Likes soap cutting vids and stuffed toys/teddies.)

Joshua who cares (An asshole. Staight up. He dies. Fuck him. He sucks ass.)

Andy peters (Strong, kind. Kinda like Tyler shied. Big, tol, but actually pretty soft.)

Adrian  Géarán  (Tail, fire abilities, likes to make little robots. Very weak n has a couple of disabilities that leave him tired n such, which aint great for his esteem or his team when the apoc hits.)

--

Wyatt ???? ?????????????????

Pace- Nerdy. Finds a cat. Observer for the aliens. Is immune to black goop. 

Four - buff. Scary. Deadly. 

Apocolypse Squad Part 2  Small lads who dont derese to be in danger: 

  -Apep, Naga boi  Legs mutate into a cool tail. Hisses, fangs. Adorable loves the sun. bout 20 years old. 

Chris. Camp leader! Biig dad type, redhead, buff, likes gardening and camping, very outdoorsy. Little awkward but great.

Small child Talise- nickname tails? ..   Blind and slightly traumatized by the car crash that killed his mother and ended up with glass in his eyes, very sensitive to noise n textures.     Ends up mutating tails.  6 v young n smol  blocks n colourin

Shirin Parvis. Crystal boi .. trained solider/ royalty.  Tried to warn people before the apoc hit and failed. Now tries to protect the small group of surviors he stumpbles across. 

 Zephaniah, mutation turns him into a  Chameleon basically, just.. a human one. He  Prefers Zeph. Big gamey Nerd-  gets a pet gecko.  16. Quiet. Loves Lazar skirmish and lazers. 

Moyachi, Cactus boi!! Plant bab. Loves water and has clear/lime green tinted aloe/herbal helpful blood. Spikes up at defense from bad people 18/ 19   likes drawing. Pretty grumpy and needs a break.

Colin, nicknames: Coco,  Lady bug lad, who is baby trans  mutation resulted in a weird Red/Orange skin condition basically.  Can predict weather v accurately.       Ballet/dance, 14   Likes cooking. 

Hotaru , Firefly bby  - Glowy bub with antenna,  possibly mutates wings.. Sassy and tired. Turns nocturnal as the apoc progressed. Also becomes Colins first love <3

Zeno  A Siren of sorts.  DC/ hip hopper/   Lost his arm in apoc.  He loooves music alot. Very purple aesthetic and checkerboards.

Liren Pichi, deaf peaches n cream aesthetic boi- Nickname Pichi.  He is alone during the apoc, sneaks aboard and ship and goes missing..

Neighbours AU:

They all live on the homeworld, Ermioni.

Lesbabs:

Blake Aglaia  A human with a gift of being able to put emotions into glass balls.. Red head, quite fem, but gay, sweet, but not mousy. 

Lynx ?? An alien and human, the alien somewhat resides inside its host but they coexist. Sometimes goes feral.  Alien half likes to go by Perse  (Percy)  They have cool looking saliva- viens that run down their arms that are pretty cool- sharper nails/claws. Tendrils. Large ol mouth. Lots of pointy ass teef. Lynx likes to train,go to gym, and kick ass. Big ass butch energy.

Demon fam:

Hyacinth  A six-armed demon with serious parent energy. Big gardener, his body grows flowers depending on his moods/strength of emotions. Purple neck length hair. Great at comfort and cooking. 

Rhys  A Demon with a great curiosity about humans has a sibling, Feri.  Rhys is a big nerd, but very hard to get to know. Not great with emotions, comes across a tad distant and cold without always meaning too. Loves candles and lots of autumn aesthetic. 

Anthos, AKa Ant. Rhys and Hy’s accidentally created/summoned a toddler.. and hes fucking adorable. 

Vato - V   Hy has another bub later on who's more purpley blue with red curled horns and 4 arms.. No tail.. 4 eyes. V cute and inquisitive. Less noisy and wreckless than Ant. 

Roommates:

Douglas Connelly  A regular chubby human bean! Learning to become a chef. He loves food, loves cooking and also loves dancing. Hes a big guy, big cudddler, but a little shy and akward at times. 

Donovan Amores  Real fricking cool and smokin hot Bartender with a love for dogs. Dougs roommate. Has glowing fuckin orbs- donates his heart to a fucking god is smooth as fuck, background heavily Spanish, moved when young.

Haris Alaksim Real name (lost in translation, Huitzilopochtli God of sun and war) ) - A god whom Dono is very close with and donates his heart two one every 3 years during the day of the highest sun. He is a god / Mouros.    Donovan refers to him as “Dios gentil”  or “ Viejo colibrí sabio”   (“El viejo colibrí sabio es un dios gentil” (The old wise hummingbird is a gentle god.)

Donovans Family

Rem (Looks after magical creatures- Cane is from Haris)

Oscar  (Not sure what trinket or power but He’s just a casual store worker w/ good arms. Surprisingly good with knives- perhaps has one from Haris?)

Nicole  (His only sister Makes clothes..possibly got some ability to do with seasons..?  Perhaps earrings or a bracelet from Haris)

Javi  (Makes jam, cute boy, wears cloaks. Maybe has a cute little jar necklace or magic jar??)

Luca (Trans bookkeeper- Talks to Haris most often and likes to ask questions..Has precious books...Possibly a special pen..) 

Forest bois!!

Cypress The soul of the forest - Mentor of Rem. Very calm, very wise. Kinda like master oogway type. 

Unicorn boi, Hes rare, missing a chunk of his horn. Dont hurt him. He doesnt even have a name.

Fyn. Mushroom boy. Protects a gate. Lost his twin during a human-caused fire. Very mad about it. 

Fie. Bat boy. Loves fruit. 

Moh. Fairy/incubus hybrid.  

Tucker. Bunny boi, Best friends with Ainsley. Got some like, punk vibes about him, piercings n such. Not as soft as one would expect but still nice at heart.

Ainsley. Fawn boi, clums, shy, round glasses,  Looks smart but doesn't always know stuff. Very unsure of self. 

Experiment AU: 

Izekiel Iris A being of Paint. Hes made of paint. He has trauma from being experimented on. Slightly depressed. Loves art, loved creating. also regresses to try to deal with said PTSD.  Hard to get to know at first. 

Matty  (Matthew Libelle)   An experiment, part human, part lizard, part dragon. Much smol.  Hes fucking baby and i adore him alot please do ask anything and everything about him. 

Cult bois:

-Nero Aakil   (Means Genius/Orange blossom)   Orange bub  - Leader. Smart. Telepathic link with all cult members.  V corrupted…  (Parents were rich and ignorant)

-Mao Cerise   Pink - Ditzy, Looks after their ‘little bird’ (aka Jey) 

-Jey Michael Cherubim   Fallen angel -  Corrupted..desaturating and weak.. Was summoned by the cult and captured as a trophy. 

-Jaden Hirav  Looks after a garden of plants both harmless and some not for master. Previously Neros old pet..His  The family was alright but he was moreso raised by like his mum and bro. He was kidnapped from his garden and never seen again. The cult ritual to initiate him into the group failed and he was spliced with plants making him near useless to the cult.

-Rowan maverick - Now known as  Rogue- Red. Lost their tongue. Does Not follow orders to the T but gets their job done.   Has another voice/god/soul looking out for them… Very assassin ready, very perceptive. Wants to get out the cult but knows theyre too far in.. Cool glowy words in the air because they don't have their tongue. Possibly only lives of medication and vitamin pills..possible OD? Possible addiction. They struggle alot with it. 

P - Pax -  God who watches over Rowan. Was killed by the Master but their spirt lives on.

Cato.   Purple - Another smart one.. Possible Wiccan?  Sadist. Mean. Tall.  Scary. Abuse. Twisted. Loves being in the cult. Eventually wants to host Masters soul.. 

Gin Short for Ginger but the real name is Xanthe.  Blind. Also another assassin like Rogue but more obedient.  Doesn't talk often out of fear. 

Benjamin Brandy  (Benji. B) is Gins friend, Gin is trying not to get him involved in the cult but was too late as B had previously already been cursed and dealt with mythical beings..

 Silver bub. Demir. A demon summoned by the cult to complete the collection. Wants out, very stressed.  

Adopted AU: (This is like a mess of some of the boys but younger and in a different timeline to their universes smushed together intoa kinda cute school/adoption au idea.)

Matthew is smol autistic, malnourished and heavily abused both mentally and physically, leading to selective mutism and being a small fragile easily tired bab.  He loves hanging in the library once he gets used to going to some schooling. Gets tutored by Chris? Goes to camp and helps around n has fun..

Jaden, loves the school garden, and likes science class. His family is alright, However he ends up mostly raised by his sister? Or brother? 

Iz is the lil art bab, also in foster care of a big family, not so much abused but semi neglected. Quiet.

Nero is the gifted nerdy child..Parents ignorant. They love history and fictional books and reading and learning.

Benji is the slightly older kid whos possibly maybe a little behind or delayed or..something, they help out with other kids as a buddy? They like to do cooking classes.

DA AU

So this Au was like..the Septic tank births all the egos.

Angus first- He has..some kinda strength I imagine/..

Then Anti, Hen, Jackie. Marv. 

Chase -  He kills himself because of Glitch- also falls in the tank a second time and ends up with odd powers. 

Glitch Starts off as very bad and misunderstood. Turns out they were just highly unstable and required medical treatment.  Their real name is Arius and they cant stomach solid foods all the time. Mostly a liquid diet. They have glitchy fits/static seizures. Very unpleasant. Can enter tech, and its not so great, can get trapped. Can absorb certain amounts of electricity because of this they Got hit by  ightning once and has epic lighting scars!! Up arms..some on neck. All over his chest and back. 

Septic clone AU

Sean giving up bits of soul to make clones ends up in coma

Experiments and torture and odd shit with the egos ensues??

Minecraft AU??  

Yeah i had weird ideas for a cute minecraft gang of minecrafters who had accidents involving getting merged/recded with other creatures traits ect. 

Vail.  -Vex / Human

Snow golom hybrid? Or Blaze?

Slimey boi

Kitsune

Panda lad.

Pokebabs au

Mainly for Matty, Iz and Blank.. were they have pokemon forms and when bonded with a human long enough can evolved into human forms?? 

Horned AU  (With Troiseh/Glitch-in-the-static)

Shiro  -Prince lad  (This is their lad :3)

Junji - Battery..whump/slave/lost prince 

Isao Asuka -  Shiros Royal Guard 

Alien AU

Hami if he were..alien instead of being a human in an apoc basically. 

Angel AU stuff: 

Good omens inspired boi

Leo Halvar   Part..humany..demon..Cambion are according to google "In late European mythology and literature, a cambion is the offspring of an incubus, succubus, or another demon with a human, or of an incubus and succubus"

Ryan  Hot archangel guy: One wing, demon hunter thing.. Good kinda reforming from a less nice lifestyle previously. 

Mute angel possibly demon idk- -   Latif? Emmet? Evan? 

Long fringe shy boy-  Cael / Lox

[collective-laugh]

Request - Soulmate Preference for the Main Six

Anon asked: Okay, Bruh hear me out, soulmate au for the main six? 

I didn’t know which soulmate AU you wanted, so I used the string one (because it’s my favorite lol) If you wanted a different one, just send another request and I’ll get it out asap! Hope you like it!

The AU: Two people are connected by one magical string that leads them together when fate wills it.

Asra liked to tug on his string sometimes, and when the string tugged back, it comforted him to know that whoever was on the other end was in the city. He’d follow it for hours, but he knew better than to push the hands of fate, knew that he wouldn’t find whoever was on the other end of that string until the universe wanted him to. He liked to imagine who it might be, imagine what they look like and what they like and if they can do magic too. His mind runs wild, and he wishes there was a way he could know what they looked like, at the very least. He wants to know them, wants to be able to know who he’s supposed to love for the rest of his life.

After Asra finds them, he laughs, and tears spring to his eyes, and all the situations that he considered, every little conversation starter or funny little thing he could’ve said to start their relationship off, but they step into his shop, and they smile at him first, and he…they tell him that they were looking for a deck of tarot, and Asra laughs, rendered speechless for the first time…ever.

 Julian thought it was romantic, in a sense, and then he scoffed, thinking that whoever was on the other end of that string could certainly do so, so much better, and he tries to take one of his scalpels and cut the little red string right off his finger. And…it splits in two, hanging sadly on Mazelinka’s spare bed. He felt empty, inside, like something was stolen from him, but he could tell if it was because the string was gone, or because he was guilty that the string was gone. He ties it back together, the butchered mass of tied red string, and he prays that the person on the other end of the string can forgive them, and, hopefully, still find them.

Julian knows it’s them before the string slips off his finger, by the way they wear their string like a banner of pride, by the way they smile at him and the way their smile just lights up the room, and they just look at him with all the hope and trust he thinks he doesn’t deserve, and he melts before them. They keep holding him in such high esteem, and he can’t grasp why this perfect stream of light want to be with someone like him, but he learns to accept the love he deserves.

 Nadia learns to ignore her string. She considers chopping it off, especially after she marries Lucio, because how could she cause someone so much pain as to drag them along on a journey not even she wants to trek? But, she allows herself to hope, not wanting to interfere with the hands of fate, and resigns herself to a life of motions, and stepping through days while she fell away into Lucio’s shadow, just as she had with her sisters all those years ago. She finds herself staring at the horizon when she rides, wondering if she could chase after the string and find whoever was on the other end and spoil them silly, because all she wanted was someone to love and love her equally. The horizon gives her no answers, and all she can do is chastise herself for being so foolish.

Her love comes after she loses all memory of her husband and the headaches have settled into her mind, edging their way into her sleeping pattern. She hastens to the shop that fateful night, and hardly realized that the tired apprentice behind the counter was none other than her soulmate. She paused, looked them over, and watched as their string fell to the ground, completely unceremoniously, and she can only wonder who this person was that they were not only important enough to be her soulmate, but to appear in her visions.

 Muriel cuts his string off three times in his life, and every time, it reattaches itself around his finger after he sleeps. The first was while he was still in the arena, still the ‘Scourge of the South’ because he knew he didn’t deserve love, not with all the lives he’d taken. The second was before Lucio died but the plague was running rampant. He didn’t want to find love, didn’t want to see his soulmate suffer, so he knew that if he found them in the midst of the plague, he wouldn’t be able to go on. The third time was just before he met them, as he sat in the comfort of his – his very own – home in the woods, and he sliced it off with a kitchen knife, and relished in the few moments of being completely disconnected from Vesuvia, if only for the night.

They’re not what he’s expecting. They smiled at him from the very start, eyes squinting as if they recognized him but couldn’t remember his name, and then squealed when they saw that he was their soulmate. They were kind, and good, and so very talented at magic, and they saw him as a human, as a man, and wanted him to be free more than anything. He’d become convinced this person couldn’t exist, couldn’t love him, but they don’t push, don’t try to entice; instead, they ask to be a part of his life, and walk through it with him, despite the looming danger threatening to tear them apart.

 Portia double knots her string just to be sure she doesn’t lose it, though she’d never really heard of that happening. It was better to be on the safe side, and she knew it was stupid of her to wait up day in and day out for her soulmate to step in and sweep her off her feet, but she knew that under her snark and realist demeanor, she was one hell of a romantic, and couldn’t wait to meet whoever it might be the universe chose for her to love. She hoped she loved them – gods, that kept her up day in and day out, thinking of how she might not love them, or they might not love her, or how they might just stay with her because they were soulmates and it was expected. The thoughts only made her nauseous, so she tried to swear them off until she met them – it was no use judging them before she met them, right?

Portia couldn’t decide whether she was excited or terrified when she bumped into them while on an errand run in the city. Before they could even decide if they were going to walk away from her or help her pick up her things, their strings are falling off, and Portia can forget about remembering the four digit code to the stupid gates because there her soulmate was, standing over her and holding their hand out to her, and she felt like she might freak out. But she was happy. She was so elated she felt like her heart might burst right from her chest, so she throws her arms around them and then, holding them at arm’s length, makes sure to ‘get a good look at them’. The universe did right by her, at least.

 Lucio doesn’t really believe in the whole soulmate thing – his parents were certainly not soulmates, and his mom still had her string around her finger like a damn ornament. So, he walks through life enjoying the finer things, those empty vices, and grabs at power with all the help he can possibly get, and he marries Nadia, and he takes over Vesuvia, and he rules, and he wins, and life is finally looking up for him. But the people murmur about his string, love to gossip about how he didn’t wait for the ‘one’. Public image is everything, and thus, he could have been excited for the plague. If it didn’t get him as well, of course.

It’s actually quite a funny story. Lucio was certain that he’d be saying those exact words years in the future if he and this soulmate actually end did up ‘by the cosmic powers of the universe’, and he found some humor in the fact that the love of his life, his soulmate, met him while he was a ghostly, spectral, goat man, bleating about the injustice of it all and planning on taking their body. It was cruel, it was unusual, and it brought a sneer to Lucio’s goatly little lips. The person can only gape at him, at the string that chose then, of all times, to slip off, and they only shake their head and mutter “shit”. He decides immediately that he already likes them.

[x-the-hanged-man-x]

Main 6 Studying for Exams

here’s for my college au ❤️

main 6 during finals and big exams?

Asra - hes got his shit together, he always makes important notes and has everything color coded. But he does study, and has really good study habits.

Julian - this man on the other hand? he’s a fucking disaster. His dorm becomes a mess of study guides, notes, random writing, and there’s highlighters and pencils everywhere and plenty of energy drinks. He gets little sleep during this time

Nadia - much like Asra, she is extremely organized. She is ready for pretty much everything and also has really good study skills! Maybe not AS neat as Asra, but she does have stuff organized, nice notes, and highlighted stuff

Portia - kinda like her brother? difference is she does get sleep. Her dorm doesn’t become as much of a disaster, not even close. But she does spend a lot of time in rushed study mode and tends to ignore friends during this time. She also has a lot of study groups for people in her courses!

Lucio - studying? who’s she. He continues to throw his parties, though he has a bit of him that still cares aboat his grades. His parties aren’t as big, and he does get himself a tutor. But he tends to talk a lot to camio while he studies and Camio often repeats information. If you think he doesn’t have his computer at home on FT with the bird? your wrong. During the test he keeps it on and listens to Camio repeat shit while he takes his test. No one hears given the fact he has in airpods.

Muriel - he doesn’t put much time into studying. And tends to pass just fine. He doesn’t take many notes, but does pay really close attention in class. More so then the other three

[starryskylullaby]

listen in my defense it’s been a rly long night and i’m in A Mood™ and i will almost always jump at the chance for some angst

i don’t wanna call this spice bc it’s sad but there’s some lemony text & a link to a doodle under the cut

listen please listen if u love asra and love him being happy just go on about your merry business and ignore this bc i’m an awful person

i’ve been doing game of thrones au headcanon stuff for like 2 days now so bear with me also here’s the link to a Spicy™ doodle on twitter

but like...so honestly i HC pretty firmly that asra and esther ( i’m gonna just say ‘esther’ bc these are personal headcanons that i came up with surrounding her and her personality so i’m sorry it’s not more neutral but this is sad so don’t feel like. left out or excluded ok seriously ) were not in love before her death--at least, not...mutually. asra was in love with her, but she was in love with julian, and that’s a big part of why they fought and he ended up leaving vesuvia without her BUT I DIGRESS. basically asra knows she wasn’t in love with him but when she’s ‘reborn’ and has no memories he sees it as a chance to start over (the fact we don’t really get our memories back in asra’s route is......pretty telling, imo) i mean if she doesn’t remember julian or being in love with him then everything will be different--and it’s his fault she died, anyways! if she’s forgotten him it’s for the better.

but esther feels like she’s missing part of herself, the more she develops and grows in this new life. she doesn’t know what, so of course she can’t really miss anything, but she just knows that whatever asra feels for her...she doesn’t understand it, not like he does. she wants to know what it feels like, because he tells her he loves her, but somehow she seems to know this isn’t ‘love’ she’s feeling. she tells herself it could be, one day. he says he’s known her for a long time--she tells herself that she’s sure she’ll remember what that was like before. she must have loved him before, right?

and he’s so sweet to her and she does think he’s nice, think he’s attractive, and he’s taking care of her—and she thinks maybe she could be this person he seems to think she is, this person he loves he kisses her the first time, and she likes it, she does—she tells herself this is normal, this is what people who love each other do even if she is not sure just what his feelings are for her. she thinks she could love him, maybe. he kisses her often after that. she likes that his kisses are soft, but something feels...strange. she can remember ‘kiss’—memories are coming back, slowly but surely, and she can remember she’s been kissed before, but they did not feel like this. she doesn’t remember a face but she remembers a feeling, and when asra kisses her it is not there. but asra is good, and sweet, and takes care of her even if he leaves often. she thinks maybe the feeling will come with time

...but the kisses come often, and still the feeling does not. he tells her he cares for her, and she smiles and wishes she understood that, wishes she knew that feeling. and when finally the kisses turn into something more, she feels her body respond and wonders if this is what will become that feeling she’s been chasing after; this seems normal, this seems like the same thing asra feels, but she doesn’t understand why it doesn’t feel....right. he brings her to his bed and takes such great care undressing her, like he’s been waiting for this—she wonders why, when he speaks of their past like they were lovers. he touches her like a thief in the temple of a goddess who does not know him, careful and uncertainly reverent, as if afraid--but esther does not know what he would fear from her. and when their bodies touch and join he talks of magic but all esther feels is pressure. there is pressure—it starts in her belly when his hands are roaming her body. builds between her legs as he rocks against her and she thinks she can bear this for his sake; he seems happy, and that’s all she wants, to make him happy after all he’s done for her. he holds her close and whispers in her ear how much he’s wanted her, how much she means to him, and she wants to feel the same and does not know why she doesn’t--but then his mouth is near her ear and his voice is low and breathless ’esther...’ and she....knows this feeling, but something in her twists almost unbearably—the voice is wrong the voice is wrong the voice is wrong

there’s suddenly pressure in her head, too—she’s remembering something and oh she wants to chase it so badly but her head aches and pressure builds in her belly and something seems to snap—and all at once the memory fades and esther is crying with how much it hurt and how much it made her chest ache with what felt like echoes of that feeling she’s been trying to understand, and with her own frustration at being unable to remember...but the memory is gone. asra holds her to his chest and kisses her tears away and she can see his eyes are glossy as well—and she cannot bring herself to tell him the truth. she tells herself she can be that person he loves, because otherwise she has no idea who she is at all.

but then there’s the GOT au, which is the reason i started thinking about this at all tonight, and like....esther and asra who have been engaged since childhood; asra who looks forward to taking her as his wife and esther who has come to terms with her future--until she meets a man in king’s landing who makes her feel things she’d never realized she was missing. and they try to keep things a secret; esther’s supposed to be marrying someone else and julian’s not highborn and they do try, but when he’s blamed for the king‘s death during a battle in the capitol and then disappears, asra and esther escape to essos and esther feels more grief than she can let on, believing no one else really knows of anything between she and the bastard who murdered king lucio. at least until one night asra murmurs to her that if she would only let him he could be good to her. he would take care of her, comfort her--”in the dark, i am your raven,” he tells her, and esther feels her chest clench and her heart ache for so many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that her betrothed knows she’s heartsick over a man that’s likely dead now. but then....even if he knows, he still touches her as if he wants her, in spite of her transgressions--and there have been many since she met julian--and esther feels strange knowing that asra would have her imagine someone else just to be happy with him.

[dinoswrites]

The Emperor, Reversed

The Arcana, Role Reversal AU. Pre-Relationship Asra x Apprentice.

Based off this post by @cedarmoons. 

Content warnings in the tags

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You may feel powerless when the Emperor reversed appears in a reading. Dealing with authority is fraught with difficulties at this time and... you do not seem to be making any headway. [x]

The count’s laughter follows Kai as she races through the palace gardens, ringing in her ears and hounding her steps closer than the snarling jaws of his dogs ever could.

Prove to me that you can find my beloved wife’s murderer. Find the guard with the good doctor’s sketch, and return him to me. And I’m sure Dr. Devorak has told you, but I do not tolerate failure.

Might want to hurry, little assistant. I’ve already given your quarry quite the head start.

She stumbles, finally, and has to catch herself on a tree. The few bites of the outrageously extravagant breakfast she’d eaten for politeness’ sake turn in her stomach as her heart races, and she attempts the monumental task of catching her breath while also trying not to vomit.

She does not quitre succeed—her heart races with far too much terror at the thought of what the count will inevitably do to her if she fails.

Seeing as the only sounds surrounding her are the calls of pale birds, and the rush of leaves in the wind, she doesn’t think she is meant to succeed.

When it seems like her heart simply will not calm, she pushes herself from the tree and takes a look at her surroundings. To her left, a path leads into a hedge maze—a good, if somewhat predictable place to hide. To her right, she can see a wooden wall in the distance, and an open gate with a path leading down a hill, away from the palace and towards the city.

There are no footprints in the grass, no broken branches or disturbed trees. No clue as to where the guard might have gone.

If he even exists, she thinks, remembering Dr. Devorak’s horrified expression as the count relayed his instructions to her.

In the distance, she hears the barking and snarling of dogs.

She takes off for the gate, leaving the overgrown hedge maze behind her.

-

Kai has always found the streets of Vesuvia to be cold and unwelcoming, but as the sun begins to set and she leaves the palace further and further behind, she’s almost relieved for their too-dark shadows and the huddled figures who hurry along the uneven stones.

She only has a few hours before the curfew now. She knows she cannot go back to the clinic to get Cinis, that is the first place they will look for her. (If they’re not already—and isn’t that a sobering thought.)

This is a side of town she’s never been to before—she’s been on a few calls with the Doctor in recent months, as her own condition improved, but there’s only so much of the city he feels comfortable bringing her to. Judging by the size of the rat that scampers across her path, this is… definitely not one of them.

The Doctor… Her gait slows just thinking about him. How worried he must be right now—he can be so protective of her. What must he be thinking right now? She can’t imagine the count involved her in this whole mess because he actually believes she can find that magician. She knows there’s no love lost between Dr. Devorak and Count Lucio—was she brought to the palace to punish the doctor? And for what reason?

Not to mention the magician Asra showing up at the clinic scant minutes after the Count, demanding to see the doctor… what could his game possibly be? The man must be insane, coming back to a city where the ruler wants him dead.

Well. Possibly as insane as sending someone on a wild goose chase after a single guard. How is she supposed to find him? Ask around? Hello, anyone seen a guard wearing a rabbit or a deer costume? Also was he carrying an anatomical sketch of a cross-section of a human brain? Oh, you don’t know what that is? It’s basically a bunch of squiggly lines…

“Great,” she mutters out loud, “now I’m starting to even think like him.”

“Like who?” says someone walking a step beside her, and she nearly jumps out of her skin.

Kai stumbles sideways, losing her footing on an uneven stone, and finds herself falling ass-first into a rain barrel. A thankfully empty rain barrel, she muses as she stares up at the cloudy evening sky, so at least she’s got that going for her.

She hears soft, warm laughter, and as she flails a little as she tries to get herself out, the person in question says again, in between chuckles, “Hold on, let me help you out of there.”

It’s… a familiar voice. One she’s heard recently, she realises with a growing dread, as Asra the magician peers over the hole in the barrel, his purple eyes gleaming with amusement, and his disguise falling from his face as he stoops over her.

Of. Fucking. Course.

“Have you always been this clumsy?” he asks as he reaches in. His sleeve catches on the barrel and rolls up his arm, exposing shining bangles on rich, golden skin.

She hesitates a moment—weighing trusting an awful murderer and being stuck in a barrel next to an awful murderer—but her options here are excessively limited so she takes his hand, and braces herself on the barrel as he pulls her up.

She braces a hand on the first solid surface available to her as he gets her back on solid ground—which is, horrifyingly, his chest. Her fingertip slides past layers of the softest fabrics she’s ever felt in her life, and touches the warm, smooth skin underneath.

For his part, he only smiles down at her, as if they aren’t standing too close together for comfort. Still holding her hand, and looking for all the world as if he is trying to memorize something in her eyes.

Magician, she remembers, and as her cheeks start to burn she yanks her hand away, and takes a few cautious steps back.

“I—thank you,” she manages to stammer as she makes a poor attempt at straightening out her clothing.

He simply stands there and watches her with an expression that is more amused than anything else. He just keeps looking at her, all fond and warm, which just makes her feel baffled, honestly.

“My name is Kai,” she ventures, when his staring gets uncomfortable.

He blinks, as if that answer is somehow surprising.

Kai?

It’s her turn to blink—she looks over her shoulder, frowning, but there’s no one behind her in the cramped, dark alley. She’s about to write it off as hearing things, but then it happens again—a bright, friendly voice saying her name, that she doesn’t quite hear so much as… feel.

When she looks at Asra again, his heavy dark scarf rustles, and his snake pops its head out of his clothing—it flicks its tongue at her repeatedly before turning its head upside down, blinking at her with wide, confused red eyes.

Kai? it asks a third time, before Asra starts in place, looking over his shoulder before trying to stuff the snake back in his clothing. Why Kai?

“Oh,” Kai says, a little too loudly, “your snake can talk?”

“Of course she can,” he replies, his voice low. “To people who can hear her.”

He pauses to murmur apologetically to the snake—she catches him saying, “I know, I think it’s itchy too,” as he runs two fingers over the snake’s head, which finally seems to mollify her into hiding once again.

Asra adjusts his clothing, securing his scarf around his face once again. His eyes crinkle as he meets her gaze once more.

“We should get moving,” he says, his voice purposefully low. “The curfew will be starting soon, and we don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.”

He slips his arms in hers, and leads her out of the alley with brisk, even steps. She follows—not like she has much of a choice—while she mulls over his words, and tries to ignore the feeling of his snake slinking down his sleeve, and running along her arm under his clothing.

“What do you mean, people who can hear her?”

He picks a burr off her shoulder. “Hm?”

She glances around uneasily—there are a few people walking the streets, but no one is close enough to listen in. So she whispers, “Your snake. She… only talks to certain people?”

He gives her a serious look—probably the first she’s seen from him. His eyes narrow, and he seems to be studying her eyes intently. It’s… different than his earlier attentions, and it almost makes her want to pull away.

Faust!

She jerks in place a little at the sudden not-sound ringing in her mind.

Asra’s eyes crinkle, and that strange scrutiny vanishes from his eyes. “Her name,” he clarifies, and he speaks so low that it’s hard to make out but he sounds… impossibly sad. Then he inclines his head, and suddenly they are cutting across the street, into a narrower side lane.

His hand on hers is warm, and her steps follow his without question.

“Faust is my familiar,” he explains. “She can speak to me, and those she shares a strong bond with.”

“I have met you and your snake once.”

He hums thoughtfully. “Anyone with strong enough magic can understand another familiar, you know.”

Her stomach twists. She stops in her tracks, and immediately yanks her hand from his. He turns and studies her, his expression patient and smooth save for the amused gleam in his eyes.

She can’t help but look around them, wildly—but they are alone here, no one around to overhear their conversation.

“I don’t have magic,” she hisses, “and even if I did—it’s illegal! They hang people for… for tarot card readings!”

Asra laughs—low and dark, with a bitter edge that gives her pause. “Whatever Lucio says, whatever he—decrees from on high… Magic is the essence of life, Kai. It’s in me, it’s in Faust, it’s in Ilya whether he likes it or not… And in you?” He draws himself closer, and something in his eyes lights up as he regards her. His voice softens as he says, “Kai, there’s magic in you, so much that you that you shine so bright, even the misery of this city can’t disguise you.”

He’s… very close. So close that she finds herself lost in his eyes, for a moment. In the energy of him, in the slow curve of his smile as he regards her.

They are… certainly very pretty eyes. For a murderer.

She hears footsteps approaching—someone running, she thinks. And she starts, but Asra only sighs and takes her arm in his once again.

“This is where we part ways for now,” he says.

“What?”

He winks at her, and then adjusts his scarf to cover his face once more. “Don’t be afraid,” he says. “Trust your instincts, they won’t lead you astray.”

“I don’t—”

They step forward together—passing from side lane to street—and he holds her arm and leads her in one heartbeat, and has vanished into thin air in the next.

She’s so busy gaping at the magician-less space next to her, that whoever is running down the street plows right into her.

They tumble over one another, hitting the stones hard before Kai immediately shoves the man off her. She almost curses at him, and goes to look for the magician once again—until she sees a guard uniform, and a rabbit mask askew on his face.

She stares at him. He gapes up at her.

That continues for a while, before he reaches into his pocket, and produces a wrinkled piece of paper from his pocket.

Julian’s sketch.

She snatches it from him. She tries to smooth it out, and scowls at the mess his sweaty palms have made of the charcoal lines. “This was important,” she hisses.

He does manage to look a little guilty, even though they both know it’s not his fault.

Behind the guard, Kai hears the clatter of hooves on pavement. She looks up, and coming around the corner is the count himself, barrelling down the street on a white horse and a full guard contingent riding hard behind him. Kai and the guard both scramble out of the way, only for the count to draw his horse up beside them. The beast whinnies, chomps at his bit, and snorts, shifting in place restlessly as the count looks down at them.

The horse looks at Kai—and she doesn’t know much about horses, but she can see something wild and frantic in its red eyes, and sweat streaking its flank. The poor thing is exhausted. Every horse is—they are all breathing heavily, run too hard for too long with burdens on their backs.

Have they been running their horses so hard since the palace?

Kai glares up at the count, and he stares back at her unflinching.

She thinks of Julian, and grits her teeth.

The rabbit guard seems to remember to bow, after a long moment. And that movement catches Lucio’s plague-reddened eyes, and without even skipping a beat he reaches into his belt, pulls out a gun, and shoots the guard dead between the eyes.

It is easily the loudest sound Kai has ever heard in her life. She must scream, or react, or something—but all she is aware of is her own sudden intake of breath, an impossibly loud noise, and a ringing in her ears.

When she looks over, the guard is still standing next to her—with a hole in his forehead, and powder burns all over his mask.

Lucio holsters the gun, and the guard falls sideways to the ground.

“Let that be an example for those who might fail me,” Lucio barks back to his guards without once looking over his shoulder. His gaze doesn’t flinch from Kai even once.

She stares back, stunned.

She loses track of how long they stay like that—Lucio on his miserable horse, glowering down at her from on high, and herself just standing there and honestly trying not to throw up. Her heart hammers in her chest, her stomach turns, and she wonders if she’ll have time to make it through the narrow side streets before Lucio reloads his pistol—

“Guards,” the count says with a grin that nearly splits his face in two, “arrest this woman for the use of witchcraft in my city.”

She gapes up at him. He turns his horse and urges it back up the hill—at a full gallop, the poor thing—and the guards close in around her. Their horses all exhausted, breathing hot heavy breaths into her face.

She doesn’t even react—doesn’t fight it as one of them reaches down and grabs her by her collar, yanking her up onto the horse behind him. The guards don’t spare a glance for her or anything else—they turn their horses and begin the ride up the road to the palace looming on the horizon.

Kai, however, does look back—and she stares for as long as she can at the dead body of the guard, simply left where he fell in the street, before the road curves, and she loses sight of him around the bend.

[devoraakss]

Remember

As children, we see more than we understand, and as we grow it begins to make sense. Over time, things you didnt understand then slowly come full circle.

This was true, this was fact. But some things are so cruel, so vile, that its beyond comprehension-- we see it, and yet choose to ignore it, lock it away in the steel vault of your memory, to never be seen again. Perhaps that’s why it took her so long to realize, so long to finally have her eyes opened to the possibilities--the power-- that her teacher had locked away.

Of course, Asra had always been more than just a teacher. Aveana didnt remember then, but she remembered now. Dear friend, companion, and... perhaps something more... in another life.

When the memories first flooded her mind it was like one of her headaches, but excruciatingly painful, moreso than usual. The full force of it hit her after she stumbled back to her room, blinding hot pain behind her eyes, a thundering sound in her head like a thousand heartbeats ringing in her ears. Scenes and pictures fly before her minds eye and she is helpless to stop it, nearly collapsing to the ground as she cradles her head in her hands. Tears threaten to spill down her cheeks, a swell of panic rising in her chest-- Asra, Asra, where is Asra--??

And then it stopped. All at once, the pain, the cascade of memories that once haunted her, the gaping void in her chest that told her something was wrong-- all gone.

Aveana took a shaky breath, swaying as she rose from her knees, hand gripping the wall to  support herself. It was... jarring. To suddenly have answers to all the questions she had... one memory stands out like a flame burning in the dead of night, forcing her to lurch towards the door on unsteady feet, a sudden desperation to her movements.

She had to find him-- Lucio. She needed to get to him. Of course, to the rest of the city he was dead, but Aveana knew better-- her recollected memories filling the gaps in the story. Lucio was here, in the palace, he wasn’t human-- not quite-- but he was still there.

And right now Aveana wanted nothing more than to see him again.

She remembered the first night she was at the palace, blindly stumbling into lucios wing, terrified-- but now she knew no fear. She remembered when those halls were glowing, the portraits along the walls intact and standing proud-- always so proud.

Mercedes and Melchior guard the stairs, and unlike their first meeting Aveana doesnt shy from them-- she remembers the cold winter nights when those two dogs would curl up in her lap as she read her books-- she did not fear them.

The hounds must notice a difference, because they greet her like an old friend, tails wagging back and forth, shoving their long snouts at her hands.

Aveana hushes them before they can bark, rewarding them with a few scratches under their chin. "Let me pass?"

The dogs wide crimson eyes glimmer with mischeif as they move aside, ears perked and listening as Aveana ascends the winding staircase.

The chill that washes over her is not natural, and she can feel now, the slight charge of magickal energy to stale air.

Its as decrepit as it was the first time, but now Aveana hopes she will hear that voice she heard before... beckoning, calling to her...

"Ah, if it isn’t my little dove... flocking back to me..."

The ghostly echo of that familiar voice sends shivers down her spine-- but not out of fear. She recalls the nickname, oh how she hated it before... now she doesnt want to stop hearing it.

"I always come back, don't I?" Her voice is smooth and even, despite the turmoil she feels in her chest. How could she have let this happen?

There is a heavy silence that follows her words, but then he is speaking again and its like hes right beside her, whispering in her ear.  A heat races over the nape of her neck, like she was standing beside an open flame.

"Something.... is different."

He sounds so close, she wonders if she reached out if she would feel anything, but she keeps still.

"I remember."

Those two words makes the whole scene around her shift and marble until it is just like it used to be, glowing, radiant red and gold, vibrant and in front of her--

“Lucio...” His name is a whispered breath on her lips, and shes almost hesitant to reach out, touch him, after all this time it feels like a fever dream. Like if she were to disrupt it the image would shatter and she would be back in the void of not knowing.  Lucio doesn’t share this fear because he doesn’t hesitate to sweep her into his arms, pulling her as close as he can, face pressed to the top of her head, arms strong around her. “’Veana...You’ve come back to me...”  His voice sounds almost heartsick, a tinge of longing that Aveana had never heard from him before, but it makes her heart jump into her throat. 

Theres no hesitation this time when she wraps her arms around him, its almost like it was before things went to hell, before.... everything. Almost. The smell of ash and dust lingers, he no longer smells of roses and cardamom, instead he smells like fire, death and decay.  Aveana has been so empty, so lost without him that she doesn’t care, she would take the shell of what he once was over nothing. She knows what life is like with nothing to remember him, and its a fate worse than death, she realizes.  “Yes, I’m back. To stay, this time. I’ll never leave you again.” She whispers, the promise ringing in her ears and she intends to keep her word. Whatever that entails, she’s willing to risk, to throw it all away, if it means she can have him again.  By any means necessary. 

a little snippet of my Dark Au that i’ve been toying with, writers block and my current living situation are NOt gr8 so i’ve been slowly suffering. today was the first day i had some energy to write so have this for now-- theres more to come if you guys like it! 

[vide0-nasties]

won’t you come home

Pairings: Julian/Asra, Julian/Asra/MC, background Nadia/Portia

Content Warnings: Off-screen major character death, brief descriptions of old age, mild coarse language, angst

Word Count: 3999

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a vampire au but, boy howdy, that didn’t happen. Anyway, have a very drawn out hurt/comfort fic with a big, fat happy ending!

---

Forty years ago, Julian once again faced down death.

A witch sacrificed herself for him. For all the lives in Vesuvia.

He’s an old man now. He’s lived a long life. But it was a longer life than he’d wanted, if he was honest.

In the end, he’d gotten almost everything he wanted.

+

I AM TIRED OF BEING ALONE

It was hard to look into the white flames, to see past them and glimpse the bodies inside the burning sigil chalked onto the floor. It was impossible to see beyond it, to find Pasha and Nadia. To know whether they were safe pushed up against Lucio’s bed, Nadia using her back to shield Pasha from the inferno.

Asra kept Julian standing, even though their bodies threatened to buckle under the weight of the magic. He watched the fire with his hand knotted in Julian’s bloodied jacket, eyes shining with tears, mouth moving in prayer. He’d said, once, that being loved by Eustacia was the same as being loved by a god. He wasn’t wrong.

I AM TIRED OF BEING IGNORED

Eustacia in the center of the conflagration she’d nurtured, hands held out, palm-up, to the figure that shifted violently between man and animal. Only the ragged ends of her voice penetrate the maelstrom. Tattered and mismatched syllables, no discernable words.

For years, Julian would have nightmares about the cacophony of accusations the form screeched, impossibly loud and omnipresent, pressing on his skull so hard he felt his other eye trying to escape the socket.

But he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop witnessing.

I AM TIRED OF WAITING

COME AND FUCKING GET ME LUCIO

“No, no, Eustacia! DON’T!” Asra’s scream never reached her, and Julian felt a dozen muscles pull as he tried to hold the magician back.

When the thing that might’ve been Lucio grabbed Eustacia, the world turned black and Julian felt the pressure in his skull give, felt heat pouring down his face. There was only cackling and Asra’s screaming struggle.

That, too, stopped.

By the time he’d healed and woken, there was nothing left but the scorch mark on the floor Asra examined. Nadia was collapsed on top of Pasha, but they both breathed and gripped each other in their unconsciousness. Lucio was gone. Eustacia was gone.

Julian’s legs failed him, scuttling to Asra’s side. “Is she—?”

“No,” Asra said, concentrating on the marks, spreading his hands over them, “she’s not. She’s coming back. It’s right here, in the scorch.”

+

A long life gave him many things to witness—beautiful and miraculous.

The revival of Vesuvia under Countess Nadia’s hand, lifting it from squalor into a golden era, willfully ignorant of the kicking and screaming.

The Countess’ second wedding—a massive, plush affair that threw the city into a revelry for over a month. Pasha had looked stunning in her gown, and she looked stunning forever after at Nadia’s side. She’d found her place, and it was in the heart of the sun, just like he always knew it was going to be.

He’d seen the magnificent explosion of medical sciences and magical arts. Vesuvia became a world capitol for doctors and magicians of all paths, and many found their way to the city on pilgrimages.

He’d finally gotten his doctorate, and even accepted an invitation to become the Court Physician for a number of years. When he retired, finding the politics disagreeable and the actual doctoring completely lacking, he took on apprentices and found that he was a better teacher than doctor. The students he sent out into the world would do things he only ever dreamed of.

His twilight years he spends as a director of a medical oddities museum. It is a premier showcase of maladies, and he gets to be as eccentric, dramatic, and talkative as he wants—a strange showman with one eye, a long black coat, and a voice made for projecting monologues to misshapen skulls held aloft in his hand.

Asra had stayed with him, sharing quarters in a way they never did before, holed up tight in the shop. They waited for something—anything. Asra had kept things together while Julian was floored by the suddenly resurrection of his—well, not good, but—neutral image.

They’d come together again on more even ground. Once the sting had settled into their skin and they’d hunkered in to wait out the long winter, they didn’t dance around a ghost so much as they left a place setting prepared for her.

In the end, Julian had gotten almost everything he wanted. Warm days, never a dull night, Pasha never having reason to cry. Asra wanted in, all the way. No limitations, no ground rules, nothing.

“You’re not—are you doing this because you’re lonely?” he’d asked, wary-eyed over a table at the Rowdy Raven. “Because the last time we tried to ride this pony—well, we both know that didn’t end very glamorously. Crying, cursing, going on the run—it was a whole ordeal. You remember.”

“Yes and no,” Asra admitted. “I love you, Ilya, and she would’ve wanted this for us. The last time…I didn’t handle it right. I was angry, all the time.”

She. Like they couldn’t say her name, or it would break the bargain, and she’d never come home. Just keep leaving the lights on, leaving the door unlocked, invite her in under your breath before you crossed back over the threshold.

Years they spent cavorting together, living the life Julian had only let himself imagine through intrusive thought. Everything was unrestrained, wonderful, intoxicating, even lived around the open wound.

Asra aged beautifully, developing sun spots, growing his hair long. He wore many scarves over unbuttoned kurtas and baggy pants, took life at a leisurely pace. He took no apprentices and continued to run the shop, reading fortunes out the backroom with Faust crawling through his clothes warmly.

+

A long life gave him many things to witness—bad and worse.

His bones never stopped aching and his hands didn’t cooperate. His hair had turned gray at the temples, faded, and turned white all over. There were spots on his body, and his spine stooped. He had to carefully watch his feet, because he would not bounce if he fell.

As he’d seen Pasha come into this world, he’d seen her go out. A quick and mercifully gentle decline for a round, old lady dressed in silks. One week fine, the next week coughing, the next week sleeping and never again waking. Nadia lost her vibrancy and followed her into the dark soon after.

“I can’t fathom how you’ve managed it, Doctor,” she’d sighed with a depth of sorrow Julian knew better than he knew himself. She never stopped touching her heart, as if hiding the hole left in it. “This is a sadness that will last forever.”

“Not forever,” he assured her. It was the same promise fed to him by another, but he’d long ago stopped watching the door.

Julian took care of them both as he’d taken care of Mazelinka in her final days. He was there when all three let out their last breath, and he stood witness, as he thinks he was always his purpose—not to change the world, but be there as it happened.

Even as Asra aged beautifully, it laid waste to him. His violet eyes clouded to lavender by cataracts. The shuffle of his deck wasn’t quick and clean, his hands stiff and gnarled. His back never stopped ailing him, and he walked with an ornate cane.

It came to a point that Julian began to wake in a terror, watching Asra’s still, sleeping form until he drew breath. Alive—today they were both still alive.

More and more, he finds himself thinking about the old days—walking the echoing halls of the Lazaret, supervising the burn pits, tending to Lucio and wishing he would die more quickly. Life on the run, his return to Vesuvia, his discovery of a different witch than the one he’d hunted.

When he tells Asra, Asra laughs and shakes his head. “She talked about that sometimes. She couldn’t believe how badly she missed the war.”

“What war?”

“All of them.”

That had been thirty-five years into the wait, and she was still she, and it disturbed him that he missed his own war.

+

He never had a green thumb, but he’s never wanted for money, and he can afford the skills of the best florists in the city. They know his order by now—sweet pea, belladonna, lavender, and forget-me-nots for a friend long lost and sadly unfamiliar to him—because he’s been purchasing it for years, lovingly assembled in a creative bouquet.

He will never buy a white rose, and he’s never had to spend coin on honeysuckle. In a city of stone, it grows up through the cracks in the pavers and clings to the outer walls of the shop. In the spring, he feels as reckless in love as he’d once been as a young man.

In the winter, when the honeysuckle is nothing but withered vines, he remembers the green quick hiding under the papery bark, and rolling, rich, dark brogue muttering against his ear, “Dormant doesn’t mean dead, and this is a lesson the universe carved into your bones before you were born.”

Asra pestered him about his weekly bouquet, why he never added wolfsbane to it, until Julian did. Then he wrapped the vase in honeysuckle vine. “Alright, you can lay off it now. Everyone’s home now, safe and sound,” he’d say, rolling his eye.

“Good. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

+

He thinks he catches glimpses of her in crowded places, but he writes it off as finally going senile. He’s an old man, easily winded, somehow even more scatterbrained—turning every tall body, dark head of hair, or familiar shadow into her.

Until it actually is her.

He can’t convince himself otherwise—he can’t rationalize it away. That is Eustacia in the market, still as sharp, young, and dangerous looking as she had been forty years ago. That is Eustacia at the stall across the canal, drumming her too-many fingers on her arm and looking down to a blond at her side.

Her eyes are impossibly black, and they flick toward the shop.

“Asra,” Julian wheezes, grabbing his sleeve. “Asra, look. Right now, look right now—!”

“What—what’s wrong?” Asra lifts his head as fast as he dares, not wanting to provoke his spine. He blinks furiously, following Julian’s hand. “I can’t see it, Ilya. What’re you looking at?”

Asra’s cataracts—of course, he couldn’t see. “Wait here, I’ll be right, ah, right back. I’m…” he drifts off and tries to push through the foot traffic, mind haunted by a mirror image recalling of the past.

Young and bold, he’d sauntered through this same market as a wanted man, wearing no mask. A witch he’d done wrong by had spotted him, and gave chase.

It ends the same today. A bird screeches, and the witch looks up from her companion. Julian only gets a flash of her stricken face before he trips over a fold in a carpet, coming very close to going down on all-fours.

It’s her—it’s her—the scars are the same, the teeth still flash under her thin lips, green-black tattoos under her mouth and down the center of her forehead—

She’s gone when he straightens, and Asra is at his elbow, bracing him against his body. “Was it her, Ilya? I felt her, it felt exactly like her,” he babbles, scanning the market. He didn’t see, he wouldn’t know that they couldn’t possibly keep up with her, much less catch up.

Julian’s heart pounds and he thinks he might vomit. “It…it was,” he croaks, breathing hoarsely. “I…Asra, I need to sit down. I don’t—I’m not feeling very—god, my heart is pounding. This is ridiculous. Pathetic…old bastard.”

“Ilya?”

Julian shakes his head, dismissing Asra’s worry. He’d thought, after almost half a century, that this was something that would never happen. He might be senile, but, here’s a terrifying thought, he might be right.

+

They don’t have to catch up with her. They find her at the shop’s stoop, waiting like a present.

Her and Lucio.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she says to him, outside the door. Julian thinks Asra might break his wrist the way he grips it. “Selfish. It’s selfish and wrong. They’ve grown old together. It was wrong to come.”

“Who gives a shit?” Lucio snorts, rolling his eyes and tossing his one hand in the air. “Boo-hoo, they’re old. Let’s just get out of here and let them molder. I hate being in this city.”

Asra speaks first, projecting his voice and letting the unbridled contempt drip and pool around their feet, “Maybe she’ll set foot back in her home and make you wait, Lucio. She never had a problem prolonging your discomfort.”

Lucio and Eustacia whip around the find them, eyes wide. Eustacia’s hand flies to her chest, clutching the shirt above her heart. Her six knuckles go as pale as the whites of her eyes.

Lucio cocks a hip and sneers. “Oh, look. It’s the magician Asra,” he drones, “and Doctor Jules. It has been a long time, hasn’t it? You’re both looking like today’s the day you’ll—”

“Shut up, Lucio,” Eustacia breathes, without turning to Lucio or his sullen, cowed look. “You’re going to shut your fucking mouth, or I will seal it for you.”

This isn’t a hallucination—it’s not a heart attack, there are no shooting pains down his arm, though his breath is short. Though his legs might buckle if he doesn’t hold onto Asra.

If he goes down, he won’t get back up. If he speaks, he might break.

He stands witness to her return.

Her shaky step forward, the two after that. Her hands, hovering in the air, fingers flexing, cupping over her nose and mouth. Her eyes narrowing, tears pooling at her lashline and spilling.

“Oh—oh, look at you,” she sobs into her hands, halting. The anguish and relief of ages warp her eyes and brows, set her hands to trembling, her shoulders to quaking. “Look at the both of you. You’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

Asra skims a hand up her arm, around her back, and pulls her close. He buries his face against her chest and breathes deeply. One of her arms wraps around his back, strokes over his hair, and she gapes at him in wonder as she continues to cry. “So fucking beautiful, look at you…” Her eyes dart to Julian and she hovers a hand over his chest, maybe afraid to touch. Maybe thinking she’s not allowed. “Never have I seen something so beautiful as you.”

“So are you,” Julian manages to croak, lifting a hand out to her. He wants to cup her chin, feel her, to make sure she’s as real as the bricks that make up the shop or Asra’s arm through his. “God, Eustacia…”

Even through his gloves, she is warm and solid leaning into his palm.

+

When the thing that might’ve been Lucio took hold of her forty years ago, her body was destroyed, but Julian’s remaining eye had ruptured, and his body had collapsed. He never saw the way Lucio had carried out her plans, pulling the thread that would undo her entire existence, particle-by-particle, until there was only a scorch to read on the floor.

Her mind, her soul—whatever the thing that made Eustacia Eustacia—had joined Lucio in his neither here nor there purgatory, and she’d spent decades rebuilding herself from memory.

Then she spent more rebuilding Lucio, rending apart the animal imagery of him, resurrecting the human he’d once been. Harshly limiting him and what he’d become. Making him as inert and harmless as a single raindrop separate from the ocean and the storm.

His reconstruction was the biggest undertaking of her life, dismantling him almost completely and weaving the tapestry of him back together with a cosmic, impossible thread she’d spun from the Count’s remnants and the pieces of herself she had to give to make the skein stretch.

A masterwork, a creation that would’ve blinded and ruined the hands of even master weavers.

Forty years she spent on this project, this duty, and she’d lost track of time. For this, she would never forgive herself.

+

She can’t stop staring at either of them, and Julian can’t stop staring back at her. Asra sits close and hardly stops touching her, because his eyes are bad and he can’t stop making sure either. Lucio, however, still cannot stand not being the center of attention, and he tells their tale as loudly as his lungs will bark, filling the crowded shop kitchenette to the rafters with his voice.

“And we ended up dragging ourselves out of a mirror at the bottom of a river. Not some piss-poor little creek, a river half a mile wide, raging with the midsummer melt. She ended up breathing for us until we washed up on shore, naked—”

Julian snaps his attention to the former Count and he spits, “For the love of god, is that part of what she did for you? If you ever stop talking for one fucking second you’ll turn back into dust? I’ll hold my hand over your damn mouth, don’t think I won’t.”

“Honestly, Eustacia,” Asra sighs, rubbing her knuckles, “I’m in agreement with Ilya. You’re being awful quiet. I thought you’d have a lot to talk about after four decades dealing with him.”

“I’m so sorry,” she rasps, cupping her mouth to hold back more crying. “There’s so much I ended up missing.”

For the first time since he’s set eye on her, Julian can muster a laugh. He drops his chin on his palm and leans toward her. “Pasha and Nadia married, had a passel of children, and got old. Asra and I moved in together, had many arguments, and got old. Muriel owns a veritable ranch, had two dozen prize roosters, and got old. All caught up. Any questions for the panel?”

She still looks miserable and tremulous, glancing from him to Asra and back, brushing the back of his hand and heaving a shuddering sigh when he takes hold of it and kisses her knuckles. “Were you happy? All of you?”

“Yes, incredibly,” Asra says.

“Well, he’s an unrepentant blanket thief, but other than that, I have no complaints,” Julian says, suffering Asra’s withering look with a grin.

“And there’s the only thing I wanted from this life,” she laughs, watery.

“Oh, seriously?” Lucio groans, resting his arm over the back of his chair. He sneers right back at her warning look, scoffing when she takes back her hands and plants them flat on the table. “Get as moody as you want, Eustacia, but this—peace on earth, good will toward men shit?”

He looks between Asra and Julian’s glance, his lips pulled back from his teeth in his signature grin. “It’s a load of horse shit. She dragged us here for a reason, and now she’s turning coward.”

While Julian would like to hop up and put Lucio through the second story window, he’s too brittle for such movement. He settles on antagonizing him. “Is this a bad time to ask if there’s a reason why he’s here, or is that acceptable? Because, as far as I can see, there isn’t one.”

“I can’t find one for either of us,” she grunts, pushing away from the table. “Thank you, Lucio, you’ve made sure it’s time to leave now.”

“You’re leaving?” Asra tries to stand and loses his balance, grabbing her arm and falling back into his chair. He keeps a hold on her wrist, searching out her face with his rheumy eyes. “You just got home.”

“Because she—”

“Lucio, don’t dare—”

“—intended to ask you two to come with her,” he finishes primly, ducking forward. “She missed you terribly.”

Her fist crashes against the table, silencing the room. “I should’ve left you in fucking pieces.”

“But you didn’t, darling,” Lucio laughs, leering at the two old men around the table. “She wants to make you young again, take you tramping around on all the adventures she missed out on. I’d gotten sick of hearing about it, with the way she dwells and dwells.”

The silence rings.

And Julian breaks it.

“Yes.” His voice is ragged, rusted, ancient, but sure. He’s never been so sure of anything. He nods and looks to Asra, then Eustacia. “Yes, I’ll come with you. I, there aren’t any ties binding me here anymore, I could leave tonight. Asra—?”

The magician stands on shaking legs, cupping the witch’s face in his hands. “Did you really think I’d say no? Either of us?”

“…You’re living full lives,” she mutters, eyes rolling as she swallows too hard. “I couldn’t…I can’t ask you to leave them.”

Helplessly, Asra looks to Julian, pleading with his eyes for him to find the words he can’t. Forcing himself to his feet, he ignores the way his knees crack and his back twinges. His hand finds its way under Asra’s, and rests on her neck. He rubs his thumb in the dip between her collarbones.

“You weren’t there. That’s not actually something I think either of us would call a full life.”

Her breathing is shallow as she breaks into the nervous laughter he’s dreamt of for decades, and she cries and kisses his hand, her fingers in Asra’s hair with his body pulled close. Lucio rocks his chair back onto two legs and snorts, “Heartwarming. Can we move this along? I wasn’t lying—I really hate Vesuvia.”

+

Doctor Devorak’s strapping, red-haired nephew delivers his resignation to the medical oddities museum, and the doctor’s assistant thinks to ask how strange it is that he’s also missing his right eye. “Wouldn’t that be a story? We cut each other’s eyes out—muhaha. But, no, it’s just a defect that runs in the family.”

People think the magician Asra, known far and wide, has finally taken an apprentice when a lovely young stranger with a snake around his shoulders is seen blowing out all the lanterns, taking down the shop’s shingle, and locking the charmed doors. “Oh, no. He’s retired, I’m just closing down for him. He, the doctor, and an old flame eloped.”

They find each other, and then they find the witch and her ward on the docks, duffel bags waiting at their feet. “Enormous world out there,” she ponders aloud, tapping a finger against her thin lips. “I was thinking of going south and abandoning Lucio in his homeland, first.”

Lucio rolls his eyes, flipping a dagger end over end in the hand of his new and significantly less gaudy prosthetic. “If wishes were horses, Eustacia,” he warns.

“Lucio’s homeland it is,” Asra laughs.

“If he makes it that far…” Julian hums.

Eustacia grins and fidgets, her eyes cracking like lightning strikes as she surges forward, grabbing them both. Without words and without needing them, her mouth takes turns finding theirs, her hands roam as much as they can, greedy and demanding as they both remember.

Like the magic she’d painstakingly funneled into their bodies, giving back what time had seen fit to wear away, her kisses taste like drowning in cider, honey.

Julian breaks apart from her for air, and presses close against her and Asra, smelling the salt scent of the sea’s chop. He’s somehow an old man and a young one, and he is reckless in love with his heart in his throat.

All he can see stretching out before him are warm days full of friends (and Lucio, god dammit), nights that are never dull, and Pasha never having reason to cry again.

In the end, he has gotten everything he wanted.

[madam-mess]

Philosophy Pt. 1

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Doomfist/ Lucio

Summary: When Akande is assigned as the professor for an introduction to philosophy class, the last thing he expects is to find a man he’s been sleeping with in the front row.

Notes: Here is the obligatory Teacher/Student Au that only I asked for :D I’m going to be trying my hand at a multi chapter fic. The chapters will be pretty short so I can update a few times a week. This is in the same universe as “Surprises” so I’ve linked it as a prequel. 

Rating: Teen (Explicit chapters later on)

Part: Prequel(explicit)  1 2 3(explicit) 4(explicit) 5 6 7 8 9(explicit) 10(explicit) 11 12 13(end)

Akande was used to this. The second he walks into his classroom the chatter that had been going on quickly stops. All eyes are on him as he makes his way to the front of the the lecture hall. He knew he had a presence about him. He bordered on seven feet tall, was built like a professional weightlifter, and had a resting face that could scare off anyone he met. “Good afternoon, class,” he begins, setting a stack of papers down on the podium, “Welcome to Introduction to Philosophy. I am Professor Ogundimu.” His voice is low and has an authoritative tone to every word, leaving his students silent and staring.

He looks over the class of students, likely all freshmen or sophomores. “Are there any philosophy majors here? Please raise your hand.” As expected, more staring from his students with not a single hand raised. He feels slightly annoyed. It was a difficult subject to teach, even more so when the students were not interested in the material. “Minors?” He asks, his hopes being only slightly alleviated when a girl in the third row raises her hand. “Only one person,” he muses with a hard frown. One hundred and twenty people in a class and only one person with the slightest interest. He loathed teaching introductory classes.

“No matter,” he starts up again, taking a moment to pull up a PowerPoint slide on the projector at the front before picking up the stack of syllabi to hand them out. “This is a copy of your syllabus. Please take one and pass it down the row. On it will be a schedule of my office hours, your final grade breakdown, testing policies, and the university’s academic honesty agreement.”

Akande approaches the first row, not paying much attention as he hands several papers from the stack to the student on the side closest to him. A familiar voice draws his attention with an almost playful sounding, “Thank you professor.” It causes his stomach to drop as his eyes lock onto the young man in front of him.

Lucio had not payed attention to the instructor entering the room, but as soon as he heard the man's voice he couldn't help but grin. It was one that the sophomore had grown quite used to in the past few months, though usually in a much different setting.

He met Akande in a bar almost three months ago. Since then, the two men had been meeting fairly regularly. It was not anything serious. The two would usually go to dinner, or sometimes straight to one of their apartments, spend the night together, then be on their separate ways the next morning. Lucio wouldn't exactly call it dating, more so they were friends who liked to have casual sex, but it was exclusive as far as the young man knew.

Lucio stares up at his professor with a grin that only gets larger at the slightly shocked expression on Akande's face. The older man had never told Lucio what he did for a living, and the student realizes now it was likely because he knew where Lucio went to school.

Akande clears his throat, tearing his eyes from Lucio as he attempts to regain his composure and conduct class. “I understand that many of you were looking forward to having class with Zenyatta Tekhartha, but unfortunately professor Tekhartha has had a death in the family and is taking a semester off. So I have taken over this class.” Akande had only gotten the news from the Dean a week ago that he would be teaching Zenyatta’s class. It was a bit comical to him really. Zenyatta was a student favorite in the philosophy department and almost the opposite of Akande. He was young, kind, and approachable, making him a perfect candidate to teach lower division classes.

“I want you all to understand that I am not professor Tekhartha. I will not be curving your assignments. You will have three 1,000 word essays throughout the semester, a midterm, and a final that will make up the entirety of your grade. My teaching assistant Mr. Shimada can schedule any review sessions that he sees fit,” he says, glancing to the front room at the green haired teen who seems to be doodling in a notebook. At the mention of his name, he looks up, giving a brief wave to the class.

He lets out a quiet sigh, walking back to the front of the class and standing at the podium once again. “There will be no extra credit assignments in this course. Do not show up at my office at the end of the semester asking for a higher grade,” he says sternly, trying to ignore the short young man on the front row who is grinning at him despite his serious tone, “In my class, you get what you get.”

[omnical]

I Sing the Body Electric... (1/?)

( Next )

Summary: All her life, forensic pathologist Dr. Angela Ziegler has dabbled much with the dead. After a bout of self-realization, she decides it was time she learned how to deal with the living.

And maybe ask her colleague out for a date somehow.

Genre: AU, Romance. Dark humor. Oh, and ghosts and psychics (anyone a fan of pushing daisies?)

Characters/Pairings: Angela, Lucio, Fareeha (mentioned), Pharmercy

Rating: T, mentions of body gore and third party violence, dark humor.

Links: AO3

Victim died from a singular sharp force: a penetrating wound to the head, resulting in cranial injury.

Left side, approximately 1.53 inches superior to the left orbit.

No murder weapon discovered in the crime scene.

Angela hummed, tapping her lip with the pen.

She paused the voice recorder and wrote her thoughts down on a yellow notebook, leg bobbing, her mind sinking deeper into concentration. By her elbow, a steaming cup of coffee remained untouched, and a nine-hour-old, empty sandwich wrapper laid crumpled up in a ball. Empty coffee cups littered her desk, alongside a mess of sticky notes with crucial thoughts written on them, such as: ‘the nasal cavity?’ and ‘lentil soup’.

Her uniform smelled freshly of antiseptic and murk from the examination they had performed earlier today. It sunk into her skin, her hair; lingering under her nose. Nothing she wasn’t used to, but being used to the smell did not mean she wouldn’t enjoy a long, hot shower back home. Finally, wiping biscuit crumbs off her wobbling keyboard and cracking her long, crooked fingers -- Angela got to work threading the details together. Her peering blue eyes did not break away from the notes and sketches she accumulated, as she typed down her meticulous observations regarding the case. And after what felt like hours, Dr. Ziegler sat back stiffly, curled hands hovering above the keyboard as she skimmed through her official autopsy report, eyes straining from overexposure to the monitor light.

She needed a few more moments of scribbling and typing and biting her pen. Playing the recorder again, keeping it on repeat; she listened to the sound of her voice, crackling and interspersed with static:

Body was found by janitorial staff at 1:30 PM.

According to the man in question, he was lying face-down on his desk, his pose suggesting a struggle, which explains various points of discoloration on his skin…

Blunt force trauma found on abdomen… bruising prominent beneath the left rib –

Where was his position when he received that bruise again?

Angela hummed, her thumbs tapping a random rhythm on the keyboard's space-key.

Once she reached the end of the tape for the third time, marked by a soft ‘click’, afternoon had already come and gone, her desktop monitor the only light bathing her in blue. She hid the recorder in the drawer, her free hand busy alternating between drafting a few rough sketches on paper, and typing exact details on the autopsy report. The doctor took a moment to grab a folder for Case #765 on top of a pile, opening it and flipping over to the photos of the crime scene: dried blood splattered outwards in every chaotic direction on the victim’s mahogany desk; his leather writing pad askew, probably because of how the body fell upon its expiry. She pinched her pen idly between her nose and upper lip, noting how neat the rest of the victim’s desk looked otherwise. She wondered what Satya would say about that particular pattern of blood. It looked like a bunny rabbit.

“Doc Ziegler?”

Cutting herself off in the middle of her thoughts before it drifted too far, Angela reached out to grab her coffee cup, not minding its ice-cold contents, and re-read her notes during their Internal Examination. Angela could only imagine what kind of weapon the murderer used. Or get an idea of what it was, at least, after seeing the results of the death blow herself. This seemed like a tricky one.

“Doc?”

Now if she were to make a guess, it would have been an extremely sharp knife with a serrated edge or…

Angela blindly grabbed for her pen, cocking her head when she realized, during her feverish thought process, she had lost the blasted thing somewhere and could not for the life of her remember where…

“Yo, Dr. Ziegler!” Angela blinked rapidly when Dr. dos Santos’ face appeared in front of her peripheral vision, her blurry sight sharpening until she could see the quirk of his eyebrow and his amused smirk up close. “Busy?” After a pause, a few seconds spent allowing her mind to buffer as she forcefully snapped herself back into reality, Angela jumped in her chair and uttered a small and startled ‘oh’. Her speeding thoughts halting violently in its tracks, not unlike a race car screeching out of the road in a rabble of chaos. She blinked again and, similar to the spread of colored dye blooming in water, her mind began to consciously feel the kinks and aches in her bones ignored for too long. A beat, and she realized her stomach had also released an embarrassing rumble on top of it all. She sent Lucio a sheepish look.

“Doctor, I’m sorry, I -- ” Angela shoved her skewed glasses up her nose, “You startled me.”

Lucio shook his head and rested hands on his hips while he regarded his frazzled mentor. There were biscuit crumbs dotting the corners of her mouth, and her blonde hair stuck up in several different directions all at once. Her clothing was rumpled and frayed, high heels pushed to the corner of her desk, leaving her feet covered in wrinkled stockings, and -- there were coffee stains on her shirt. He sighed, wondering who was really looking after who, in their professional relationship.

“So,” he said, elongating the word into a drawl, “Please tell me you ate lunch?”

Dr. Ziegler cleared her throat, “Yes, of course I had lunch.” she said, wiping crumbs off her chin. “I had something hot and soup-like almost an hour ago, and – “

“I don’t think coffee counts as ‘lunch’, Angela.”

Angela groaned in defeat and closed her eyes, watching bright spots dance beneath her eyelids as her body melted into the chair like putty. She breathed in deep, then stretched her legs out with an exhale. “Just finishing up on some paperwork, that’s all. You know how I get carried away sometimes.”

“How about all the time? And I think ‘carried away’ wasn’t exactly the term I was looking for. Try ‘workaholic’, or ‘perfectionist’.” Lucio leaned his hip against Angela’s desk, crossing his arms, and peering down at her with a mock frown, his neon green headset bunched up around his neck. Even if Dr. Lucio dos Santos was many years younger than her, and technically working under her, Angela hunkered down into her seat feeling much like a child under the watchful eyes of a parent. “When was the last time you took a ten-minute break, young lady?”

“I am not working too hard,” Angela groused. She sat back up in her seat with a grunt, feeling her back and neck pop. “This is just regular me, doing my regular me things,” She shot him a look. “Mom.”

“Don’t give me lip, young lady, you know you’re wrong about this,” Lucio said, “As your colleague, you know I respect and look up to you. But as your friend? You gotta start taking care of yourself, Angela.”

Angela huffed through her nose and began to get her hands busy, stacking the mess of reports which covered her desk into a neat-ish pile, and actively trying to avoid the look Lucio was giving her. “Just be glad I am out of my funk, Dr. dos Santos. I am happy, motivated, and ready to take on the next seventeen cases.” Even the smile on her face felt fake. “Bring it on.”

“Uhuh.” Lucio wryly glanced at the mess of documents under her desk. “Angela, I’m sorry I gotta tell you this, but you have got to get a hobby. Doing something other than work might help you more with this midlife crisis thing.”

“I am not having a midlife crisis thing. I’m not that old, doctor. And–” Angela raised her eyebrows, denial written plainly across her face, “I do have a hobby,” she said with a shrug, “It just so happens that my hobby is related to my work.”

“Your hobby is dead bodies.” Lucio muttered.

“Solving problems. Discovering the unknown.”

“… About dead bodies.”

“Now, if you would kindly excuse me,” Angela threw her entire weight into tossing a giant, teetering stack of documents on the floor next to her feet with a huff. “I was, in fact, about to go and take my break.” she said, dusting her hands together, “Want to have lunch with me, doctor? It will be my treat.”

“It’s seven-thirty in the evening, Doc.”

“Oh, well, time flies I suppose.” Angela said, opening one of her desk drawers, then absentmindedly shoving Jim Jam wrappers and empty coffee cups inside. As if that would make her trash disappear in the morning.

After six months working in King’s Row Forensics Department, the terrifying sight of Dr. Ziegler’s desk hygiene was common enough for Dr. dos Santos to see. He learned early from older residents how futile it was to drag Dr. Ziegler away from a job, and Dr. dos Santos no longer stared at her and her atrocious, self-destructive habits in awe. Their student-mentor positions didn’t stop Lucio from chastising her about her work ethic, especially after witnessing drawn shadows prominent under her eyes everyday, and her smudged make up only completed Angela's usual look. Now one of Lucio’s many fears was finding Angela Ziegler in their morgue someday.

However.

Dr. dos Santos peered at her above the rim of his glasses, and noted the glow about her cheeks with a raised brow.

"Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen you this excited about solving a case since…”

“I am always excited about solving cases.”

“But where was that Doc Ziegler who was ‘tired of it all’ and who ‘wanted to do something new with her life’?” he asked, “Someone who wanted nothing to do with ‘death and dead stuff’? Don't give me that look, you know what I'm talkin' about."

"Lucio--"

"Where was that Angela Ziegler who was planning to quit and maybe try being a football coach or a field medic or something?”

“She is still here, and she happened to get a grip on reality after a lot of thinking.” Angela said, ducking her head, as if that would hide the dusting of red on her cheeks. “Besides, I am already finished with this case. The precinct needs it urgently tomorrow, and, you know…” she stumbled on her words.

“And?”

“I had to finish it quickly.” Angela finished lamely, her voice raising an octave higher as if that would make her sound innocent with her intentions. “Detective Amari was asking about it this morning, and I felt compelled to help her crack this case as soon as possible.”

Lucio felt both his eyebrows reach up his hairline. “Oh. I see. I see.” he said, a twinkle reaching his eye while he casually turned to check his nails, trying to appear more interested with its polish rather than the conversation itself, “Detective Dimples is an awesome source of motivation, isn’t she? Hoping to share a hobby with her, huh?”

“Oh, Lucio!” Angela almost jumped out of her chair, smacking his shoulder with a manila folder. “Don’t call her Detective Dimples.”

“Hey, you were the one swooning over her ‘smoky voice‘ and ‘beautiful smile’ a few days ago.” Lucio laughed, rubbing at the spot she slapped. “Admit it, doc, you’re too gay to handle another meeting with her.”

Angela exhaled, and schooled her features before she became too flustered; raking her fingers through her hair, and hoping the red flush now covering her neck down would fade before another nosy nancy came into the office.

Relax. You are a doctor. You are a professional.

She straightened up in her chair, and folded her hands together in her lap. “I wanted to make sure I handed it in right away, that is all.” she said, managing an impressive professional lull in the tone of her voice. “I didn’t want to make our relationship with the precinct worse than it already is. And secondly,” Angela’s brows pinched in annoyance, and pointed at her office with a sharp jab of her forefinger: “‘Detective Dimples’ stays inside this room, doctor.”

“Detective Amari’s bone structure and cheekbones are so sharp and prominent–“

“Lucio.”

“It makes me want to take up anthropology. Oh Detective.”

“Lucio!”

“Fine, fine, I promise I won’t bring it up again.” he said, trying not to double up in laughter, his poor attempt almost making him slip off her desk. “Professional reasons my ass, though, I know you’re her favorite in the lab. Always asking about you and your ‘thoughts’.” he waggled his eyebrows, “You should ask her out instead of doing this–” he motioned his hands at her vaguely, “Weird flirting ritual thing you’re doing. I doubt you can woo her by talking about dead bodies, Doc Ziegler.”

“I do no such thing, doctor.”

“You need to get out there and get a life. Any life. Get a hobby. Get some friends. Ask Detective A out on a sweet date. Live a little.”

“I do have friends. You’re my friend, yes? Sometimes I even read books.”

“Thrilling.”

“And the detective and I do connect, socially, but just as acquaintances and nothing more.” Angela said, pulling her fingers thoughtfully, “I am a grown woman, doctor, I have complete control of my life.”

“Last time you spoke to her, you struck up a conversation about bile.”

“Well, I thought it was fascinating.” Angela grabbed the rest of her documents and began to rearrange them in a tray next to her monitor, this time with less gusto, feeling herself hunch over as her mind began to conjure up depressing thoughts. “I don’t think I am her type, anyways.”

“Oh, nonsense.”

But it was true. Whether Angela liked it or not, why would anybody consider dating a frumpy, high-strung workaholic, who liked to open up dead bodies for a living?

Dr. Ziegler and Detective Amari were connected through their profession only, no matter what her feelings were. They barely did anything beyond striking awkward pleasantries and empty conversations with each other. Trying anything more proved too much for her to handle. She found it difficult navigating through compelling words above work jargon, while stuttering and pushing through her infuriating and terrifying feelings. Not even the universe was kind enough to let them to meet on different circumstances, thus, they only ever saw each other to discuss murder cases among... other things.

Angela’s eyes, tired and unfocused, turned to look back at the autopsy report, wishing she could get sucked back into its world, where things had more clarity and sense and nothing was embarrassing.

Angela wondered when speaking with the dead became easier for her than dealing with the living.

She checked the time on her digital clock, blinking when she read it was now seven-forty six in the evening. The lights from the city cast a glow over the smoggy horizon, and as Angela listened carefully, she could hear police sirens echo off from a distance. She wondered if it was going to be another case they would eventually find through their doors.

Another body, another life ended.

She felt a hand on her shoulder ground her, all teasing gone from Lucio’s voice. “You won’t know unless you try, Doc.”

EDITED (26/09/17): Just the pacing and switched some words :) Thank you!

[dinoswrites]

Nine of Cups, Reversed

not really reversed but he have to match the naming scheme okay

The Arcana, Role Reversal AU. Pre-Relationship Asra x Apprentice.

Based off this post by @cedarmoons.

[Previous | Masterpost | A03 | Next]

It is no wonder that many Tarot readers refer to this card as the Wish Card as its appearance is often taken as a sign that, whatever your heart’s desire, it shall be granted in the coming days or weeks... When reversed, it suggests that you may be disappointed that your wishes are not materialising as expected. Your expectations may be unrealistic or you may not be actively pursuing your dreams, instead hoping that they will manifest with little input or action from you. [x]

After Doctor Devorak heals the stray cat, he and Mazelinka sit down at the table and speak in low voices when they think Kai is asleep, the cat curled up under the blankets at the small of her back.

“She needs to leave this city,” Mazelinka says, while Kai’s hands made fists in her blankets.

Julian scoffs. “Don’t we all.”

Mazelinka sighs, with the weight of someone dealing with a particularly dense child. “It is unnaturally cold, Ilya, and she was out there in no shoes, a terrible coat—”

“When am I supposed to go buy her things?” Julian hisses. “Half the markets were torched in the riots, and those that weren’t have been shut down while the guards investigate for magical ingredients. I’m summoned to the palace nearly every day, I have people trying to break down my door for treatment—”

Whatever he’s about to say is cut off by a yelp.

“Fool boy,” Mazelinka scolds him. “Yes, you need to take better care of her, but that is not what we are talking about right now.”

“That hurt,” Julian complains under his breath.

"There was no snow. But it was cold enough last night.”

Julian exhales, slowly. She can hear the creak of his chair as if he’s leaning back in it.

“I… there was frost this morning. She should have—no frostbite, nothing?” He pauses, as if waiting for a response, and then Kai hears his chair scrape on the floor, and his boots on the floorboards as he begins to pace. “She could have found shelter.”

“Ilya.”

“Someone must have taken her in.”

“Ilya.”

“I’ll ask around—”

“Ilya”

He stops pacing. He starts taking deep, heavy breaths, as if trying to calm himself.

“She has a great magic in her,” Mazelinka says.

Julian starts pacing again. “Today Lucio executed a fortune teller. A fortune teller, Mazelinka! They read tarot cards—badly! And he laughed the whole damn time!”

“Which is why she must leave—”

Julian stops, and then rushes back to the table. “And go where? She has no memories, and even if she did she can barely speak, let alone—let alone work a trade or earn money or—I haven’t even bought her shoes, Mazelinka. Shoes!”

He lets out a sigh, and then collapses into the chair once more.

“I can’t send her away,” he says at length. “I—I can’t.”

After a moment of silence, Mazelinka hums thoughtfully. “When did you suddenly become so responsible?” she wonders, sounding almost proud.

Julian lets out a low, harsh laugh. “When this city went to shit, and everyone decided I’m supposed to save it.”

-

The guards do not put her in the dungeon when they arrive at the palace. Instead, a servant stands at the gates, wringing his hands and doing his best not to look terrified.

“There’s been a room prepared for her in the guest wing,” the servant says the moment the guard and Kai dismount.

It’s strange, but he says it like the room prepared itself, without anyone actually having done so.

The guard holding her arm looks about to argue, for a moment, but then one of the others elbows him, hard, and they stand a little taller before addressing the servant. “Of course,” the guard says, and they lead her through the gates.

They escort her through the palace in a hurry, so fast that she honestly has a hard time keeping up. They breeze through the elegant, empty hallways, past rooms filled with opulent red and gold furnishings. The air reeks of fine wine and food rich with herbs and spices, and her stomach growls but she follows her escort diligently.

They lead her up a number of staircases—which are rather run down and bare, so she assumes they are for the palace staff to use—and out into a hallway with stiff red carpet and portraits of the count lining the walls.

At the end of the hall, a different servant waits in front of a large door, standing very straight in spite of her obvious age, and staring somewhere past them all without really seeming to acknowledge them as they approach.  

As they draw closer, Kai sees that her pupils are pale, her eyes blinded by cataracts.

“My lady hopes you are pleased with your accommodations, honoured magician,” the old woman says, before pulling an elegant brass key from her ring and turning to open the door.

My lady? Kai wonders. But, there is no lady of this palace, not since…

The guard shoves her inside the moment the door is open, and then reaches in and slams it closed behind her. Through the door, she can hear them say, “You can’t go around saying that shit, what if the count overhears you?”

“Well,” the old servant replies, tersely, “since he’s hardly creative in his punishments, I won’t have to wonder very long.”

They must step away from her door and continue to argue, as she can hear the sounds of their voices but not make out the words. She runs a hand through her hair and sighs, heavily, before looking around at the room before her.

It is large, easily as large as the part of Julian’s clinic set aside for living in. There is a bed she’s sure could sleep four people, crammed in, with a massive canopy and the softest looking cushions she’s ever seen in her life. It takes her a moment to realise that nothing in the room is red—everything is in shades of blue, purple, or vibrant whites, interspersed with dark stained wood floors and trim, with silver finishings instead of gold.

On an oak table off to the side rests a single place setting, covered with an elegant but tasteful silver lid. There is a white wine on ice beside it, and a small loaf of bread next to a little silver dish that holds a generous amount of softened butter. Kai approaches, frowning, and seeing no obvious trap she lifts the lid.

Steam wafts off a delicate filet of fish—Kai sees and smells spices on it that she does not know the name of, but she thinks they are Prakran in origin. It rests on a bed of stewed vegetables, with yogurt on the side.

To her credit, she considers that this might be poisoned for half a heartbeat. But then her stomach gurgles again, and she sits down in the chair and tucks into the meal without a second thought.

She’s scraping the last traces of sauce off the plate when she hears a commotion in the hallway—and before she can even register that, Julian bursts into the room, ignoring the protests of the two guards apparently stationed outside, and then slams the door behind him as fast as he can.

“Doctor!” she says, standing so quickly that her chair topples over.

He doesn’t answer her—he hardly hesitates a moment before opening his jacket, and a small black streak of anger tears out of his coat, rakes a single angry trail over Julian’s face with his claws, and then launches himself at Kai.

“Cinis!” she exclaims, kneeling to sweep the small cat off the floor and into her arms. He purrs as loud as he can, burrowing his face under her chin as she pets him and makes soft, soothing nonsense noises.

“Yes, yes,” Julian says, buttoning up his coat. Kai looks up at him, and the angry red scratch all down his face is already beginning to vanish. “You’re welcome, you ungrateful little match stick.”

“Thank you,” Kai says to Julian, and then looks down at her cat again. “Are you hungry? Poor thing, must have been so lonely.”

“Poor thing,” Julian parrots. “He didn’t just run the length of the city with an angry ball of death shoved down his jacket.” He smooths out his jacket, runs a hand through his hair, and then says, “Alright, Kai, don’t panic, I’m going to get you out of this mess.”

“What?” Kai blurts. Meanwhile, Cinis tries to burrow deeper into her neck. He starts kneading her collarbone with his sharp claws, and she winces but does not deter him.

“I’m going to—I’m going to send you to Mazelinka, alright?” He goes to the window and opens it, leans outside so dramatically that she thinks he’s going to plummet right out before he swings back in onto his heels and slams it shut again. “Sheer drop. No good. Wait, how many sheets are on that bed—”

“Doctor—”

“And—and I haven’t had time to talk to her about this, no I decided to smuggle a demon cat into the palace instead—and you’re going to tell her what happened, and that you need to get as far away as possible from this cesspit of a city—”

“Doctor!”

He starts throwing pillows off the bed, and Kai has to actually duck one almost hits her square in the head. She starts skirting around the room to avoid the soft missiles in question, until she stands by the window.

“You have a trade now, sort of, you’ve been assisting me for a year or so, now, and you’re an excellent study, I’ll write you a glowing letter of recommendation, it’ll be ten—no—fifteen pages long, no one can turn you down with that sort of reference.”

She opens the window and peers down, curiously—and sees nothing but a long, long drop, directly into a courtyard.

Cinis turns to look as well—and makes a small chirping noise of protest.

Kai looks up again—but the only view her window offers is that of one of the palace’s towers, reaching up into the sky.

When she turns back to Julian, he’s yanked back the blanket and started pulling at the sheets. “Yes, count on Lucio to stick you in a tower like some kind of—dragon or evil wizard or, something, this metaphor is getting away from me but—yes, this is plenty, two sheets is plenty to scale a palace wall, right Kai?”

Before she can even answer him, he curses. “No, that’s stupid. Here,” and he starts charging over to the wall, “there’s all sorts of secret passages in this miserable place, maybe if I just pull on the right—”

“Doctor!”

He yanks so hard on a candelabra it comes right off the wall. “—fixture—”

“Julian!”

He nearly trips over some of the pillows he threw as the candle holder comes clean off the wall, nails and all. He does, however, snap his mouth shut, and turn around so Kai can see him properly. He’s blushing furiously, as he always does when he gets carried away like this.

“Ah,” he says, softly. “Sorry.”

Kai deposits Cinis on the table so he can lick her plate, then grabs the bottle of wine from the ice and, finding it uncorked, takes a swig. It’s slightly sweet, with a taste almost like lemons to it that she supposes is meant to compliment the fish, but honestly it’s wine, and so after she’s had her drink she hands the bottle to Julian.

He takes it, thanks her softly, and then takes a long, long swig. Then he passes it back, looking contemplative, and Kai takes another swig herself.

“If he wanted me dead,” Kai says finally, “He’d have shot me in the street with that guard.”

Julian makes a strangled noise low in his throat. “He shot a…” he trails off, then says, softly, “Kai—I wish you hadn’t seen that—”

“I’ve seen plenty of people die,” she snaps. Worse deaths, too, than being shot in the head.

But… the other guards just leaving him there…

He sighs. He drops a heavy hand onto her shoulder and says, “I know.”

She closes her eyes, and—and in spite of her words, she leans into his touch a little.

He squeezes her shoulder reassuringly, and after a moment lets her go.

“Okay,” he says, now obviously trying to remain calm. “So—I imagine you won’t be able to escape from this room. But—if you get your chance, even if you have to—I don’t know, stab someone—promise me you’ll take it. Alright?”

Not that her chance worked out well for her the last time. But she nods anyway, and Julian finally smiles a little at her in response.

“Now,” he says, going through his pockets. “If—when you get your chance, the best place to lose Lucio is the city, during the day. Take any tight side street you can—he’ll come in on that ridiculous warhorse of his and he’ll have a hard time going through crowds. And when you think it’s safe, you’re going to—here it is—follow this map.”

He hands her a folded piece of paper. She takes it curiously, and unfolds it.

“Julian,” she says, “this is blank.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very smart. I just have to remember the—what the hell was it—and he used to accuse me of dramatics—aragma.”

In her hands, deep purple lines appear on the yellowed piece of paper, as if seeping out from within.

Kai nearly drops the thing in horror. “Julian!” she hisses, clutching it to her chest. “This is—”

“I know,” he hisses—but he grabs her hand and makes her look at the now fully-formed map. It shows a part of the city close to one of the now-closed city markets—a part of the city badly burned by the riots after the Countess’s death.

She stares at it until the map begins to fade, and the paper slowly becomes blank once more. She… she can’t believe Julian had this. His mark is one thing, but…

“If you were caught with this,” she starts to say, but he’s rifling through his pockets again.

“If Lucio hangs me—and we both know how well that would go—the rest of his precious city will be lost to riots,” he replies. “Or the plague, it could go either way at this point. Once you get to that house—”

“Half of that district burned to the ground, Julian.”

“Only half. Once you get there, it will be heavily guarded—believe me, I’ve checked—but you can jump the back wall when no one’s looking and get into the garden. But only if you have—this key.”

He produces a small, unassuming brass key, and presses it into her hand.

It’s warm. Warmer than it should be, even from being in a pocket—and as she closes her hand around it, it almost feels like it’s… vibrating, a little.

“Use this to get in the house, and then stay there. No one will be able to follow you in, no one can burn it down—nothing.”

She tucks the key and the map into her pocket. “And how long exactly am I supposed to stay in there?”

Julian stares at her, and then keeps staring at her.

“I… haven’t figured that part out yet.”

She runs a hand through her hair. “Of course not.”

“Kai,” he says, this time reaching out and putting both hands on her shoulders. “We’ll… we’ll figure it out, alright? Mazelinka and Portia and I, and even that ridiculous bird, we’re all going to help you. Okay?”

He looks so earnest, so desperate, that she manages a little lopsided smile for him.

He lets out a breath, and then messes up her hair a little. “That’s the spirit,” he says, almost sounding like he believes it.

-

Kai does not sleep particularly well that night—but when she does, her dreams are filled with the sound of flowing water, the brightness of sunlight coming through tall, tall windows, and the smell of jasmine wafting in the air. She dreams of a tall woman with long hair, who speaks urgently to her—but though she knows the woman is beside her, her voice is too far away to make out the words.

She wakes to another grey Vesuvia morning, with a deep and foreboding sense of dread.

Then she is summoned by the count, and he tells her in front of the entire court what he wants her to do.

“It is time the magician Asra faced justice for his crimes,” Lucio drawls, as if reading from a script he thinks too long, but has somehow been convinced is necessary. “Normal methods of investigation have proven inadequate—so it shall be that we use his own magics against him. In lieu of the regular sentence for witchcraft, this crown charges you with finding him and bringing him to us before the Masquerade begins.”

She catches a glimpse of Julian, standing ramrod straight off to the side of the dais the throne sits upon. His expression hard as a rock, though she does catch it waver a moment.

He looks, for half a heartbeat, utterly at a loss.

She is immediately shuffled away after the sentencing, flanked by guards on either side who bring her through the palace at an exhausting pace. A scribe of some sort walks briskly in front of them, undaunted by the speed of their travel.

“The magician Asra kept nothing here at the palace,” the scribe recites off a scroll he holds before him. He must have it memorized, as its fluttering in the breeze does not seem to give him pause. “Aside from some few belongings, that is. But those have been confiscated and burned already, so they would not taint the palace with their evil magics.”

Kai struggles to keep up—her bag is unusually heavy, as small as the cat crammed into it is. He’s being blessedly still, though she wonders if anyone else can feel the rage radiating from him at being so confined, or if it’s just her.

“We discovered shortly after the murder of the Countess a dwelling associated with him in the city, which has through some dark power escaped damage in the riots. That same dark power has prevented us from entering and tearing the place apart for clues—perhaps a witch will have more luck than we did.”

He rolls the scroll up just as the guards stop, and Kai takes the welcome reprieve to catch her breath. They are standing just outside the gates, where a carriage waits. It is large, black, and there are bars on the windows—she has seen them before on the streets, transporting prisoners to the Coliseum. A pair of skinny brown horses have been hitched to it, and they paw at the ground restlessly while the footman holds their reigns too tight.

“Well,” the scribe says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Good luck, I suppose.”

He doesn’t particularly sound like he means it.

The carriage interior was certainly not made for comfort. She bounces around on the hard wooden bench the whole ride—though she is grateful for all the noise it makes rattling on the cobblestones, because it hides Cinis’s complaining that starts the moment he gets out of the bag.

It’s… a long ride. Cinis finds a dead mouse under the seat to amuse himself with, and Kai steadies herself by lying across the bench and bracing herself with her feet and one hand, while she pulls the scrap of paper out of her pocket with the other.

“Aragma,” she whispers, and watches as the lines bloom on the blank paper. She’s pretty sure she memorized it last night, but a little review never hurts…

By the time the carriage begins to slow, Kai’s been staring at the damn paper so long she feels like her eyes are crossed. Cinis has given up on the mouse and is taking a nap on her stomach. She manages to convince him to get back into the bag before they stop, and a guard swings the door open and yanks her out by the arm.

She stumbles on a wide street. On either side there are charred remains of buildings, with some small effort made to clear the road but nothing done for the piles of burnt lumber and debris. The spaces between the cobblestones are caked with mud and flakes of ash, as if the rain still hasn’t washed all the memory of the riots way from this place.

In the middle of it all stands a single shop, totally absent of any sign of the riots in the streets surrounding it. It has an unassuming front, a single sign hanging over its door with a snake wound around a mortar and pestle. There is a stone wall looping around the back, and she can see the branches of a tree rising from the garden it encloses. Full of healthy green leaves, branches heavy with fruit.

There are guards standing a respectable distance away from the shop—in the middle of the street, next to some overturned crates and scattered playing cards, as if they dropped them to stand and salute the guard dragging Kai around by the elbow.

As she gets a better look at the streets, at the way they curve, at the layout of the intersections…

She bites the inside of her cheek so she doesn’t say it out loud: Of. Fucking. Course.

“At ease,” he tells them, pulling Kai closer to the shop. The one she has a key for in her fucking pocket. “This won’t take long.”

“Five silver says she bounces all the way across the street,” the carriage driver quips.

“Ain’t seen that in years. Nah, she’ll just get knocked flat on her ass, we’re outta here in five minutes, tops.”

“Enough,” says the guard holding her. “Alright, girl, go ahead and try the door so we can all go home.”

He shoves her toward the shop. She stumbles until she catches her footing, and resists the urge to glare over her shoulder at him. She can feel the key buzzing in her pocket now—and it’s strange, but it feels excited.

And her heart races, like it’s infectious.

She hesitates—but she can feel Cinis stirring in her bag, impatiently, so she takes a deep breath and walks toward the shop.

She knows the moment she reaches through the barrier because she can feel it—it rushes over her, like a sheer curtain parting at the slightest touch. It feels like a cool breeze on a hot day, tousling her hair playfully as it goes, and it leaves her heart… warmer, for having passed through it.

She reaches up to shove her bangs out of her face, biting her lip to disguise the smile she can’t contain even if she can’t explain where it comes from.

Behind her, someone says very softly, “Holy shit.”

She reaches the door and presses her palm flat to it—the key is so warm she can feel it through her clothes, but she’s not entirely certain she wants these people to see her open the door with it. They will report back to Lucio, after all, and if he finds out that Julian helped her…

Instead, she keeps her hand on the wall, and starts to walk the perimeter of the shop.

It feels a little dumb. But maybe it looks impressive, because she can hear the guards speaking in hushed voices behind her. But she pretends to focus as she goes, walking at a deliberately slow pace, as if she’s searching for something.

Cinis, excited by the atmosphere, jumps out of her bag. He starts ahead, running around the corner, and just after she loses sight of him he starts to chitter, excited like he’s seen a bird. She walks a little faster until she catches up to him—just in time to see him wiggle a little, and then make the impressive leap to the top of the stone wall. He scrambles a little bit at the top, before turning around and sitting, letting his tail hang over the side as he grooms his ears.

He looks so pleased with himself that she can’t help her grin now.

There are a few gaps in the stonework, here—just big enough for hand and footholds, and she suspects from the look of them that this wouldn’t be the first time someone’s climbed over this garden wall. She wonders for a moment who, and when, and why—amuses herself with the thought of young lovers before remembering the reason she’s actually here. She shakes her inexplicable daydream away and reaches up to start climbing.

“H-hey!” one of the guards shouts. “You can’t—hey!”

She swings her legs over the wall and drops to the other side.

She lands on her hands and knees, and soft grass cushions her fall. She curls her fingers in it, marveling at its impossible softness, before standing and taking a look at her surroundings.

She stands in a quiet, secluded, and more than a little overgrown garden. There are plants growing here she’s never seen before, twining around each other, growing over or under one another in a kind of… chaotic harmony she doesn’t understand. As if some magic is keeping them from choking one another out, but they are still growing unchecked, regardless.

Peering out from under the plants are small stone figures, covered in varying amounts of moss. They watch her with friendly, if a bit sombre, expressions, their eyes following her as she moves throughout the garden.

There is a pump for water by the house, shaped to look like a great sea serpent holding an overturned urn. Kai pumps it several times—and to her astonishment, clear water pours out onto the soft stones below. She manages to catch some in her hands, and greedily drinks her fill.

It tastes clean. She gets the whole front of her shirt soaked and doesn’t even care.

In the center of the garden is a round pool lined with stones. Its surface is strangely still, so reflective she nearly mistakes it for a mirror when she leans over it, but for the little ripples made as Cinis drinks from its edge.

Her reflection stares back at her—wide-eyed and a little awestruck.

There are bushes nearly as tall as she is, with an abundance of berries that she doesn’t know the names of but all of them are plump, juicy, and just looking at them makes her mouth water. There is a small, twisting tree, its branches drooping with heavy red fruit. One has fallen to the ground and split open, and she realises upon looking at its seeds that it’s a pomegranate. The tree she’d seen from the street towers above it, though some of its fruit-bearing branches are low enough she can reach. The fruit is small enough to fit in her palm, and the ones that have fallen to the ground reveal soft, deep red flesh.

There’s enough food in this garden to feed… oh, she can’t tell how many families. All of it just sitting here, waiting to be eaten.

After a moment’s hesitation, she gives into temptation, and fills her scarf with berries, some of the strange red fruit, and pulls a single pomegranate off a drooping branch. It’s surprisingly heavy for its size.

Because… really. No one else is eating it.

She ties her scarf with a knot so she won’t lose her stolen food, and tries to get into the pomegranate with her nails a few times, but the skin proves too tough. She sticks it in her bag, and while Cinis searches under the overgrown herbs for mice to chase, she finally approaches the shop itself.

The back door is, unsurprisingly, locked. With a glance up at the walls—and she realises, now, that she can’t hear a single sound coming from the street—she fishes the key out of her pocket and uses it to unlock the door.

Inside the shop it is still and quiet. The windows are all covered with thick curtains, casting the interior in strange dark shadows. She’s entered what appears to be the back room, for storage she assumes. There are wooden boxes on shelves against the wall, and she opens one to find jars inside, cushioned with straw, each one filled with something different and labelled in fine, looping cursive.

“Dried marigold,” she reads aloud, while Cinis pokes his nose into the box to smell it. “Salt from an inland sea. Lichen from an ancient, towering tree. Water from under a new bridge.”

There doesn’t seem to be any organizational method at all. Not one that she can understand, anyway.  She replaces the lid on the box and tucks it back on the shelf, while Cinis wanders into the next room, his tail held high in the air.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she warns him, and he mrrs cheerfully in reply.

She’s just opened up the next box when she hears Cinis chirp, like he’s seen a bird through a window, and she thinks, oh no, and slams the lid closed before darting after him.

The next room is small, windowless, with soft curtains hanging in the doorway that shimmer when she moves them. There’s only a table in the middle of the room, low enough that there are cushions instead of chairs for sitting on. On the table is a deck of cards sitting next to a pouch presumably meant to hold them, a brightly coloured bag, and her ridiculous cat, who has noticed one of the cards sitting aside from the deck and bats at it with his paws.

“Cinis!” she scolds, rushing forward.

He chitters back at her, all bravado, and knocks the card off the table before she gets there. She shoos him off, enduring his annoyed chirps, and bends to pick up the card, turning it over in her hands.

It’s a tarot card.

She nearly drops it in surprise. And then it occurs to her that—well, she’s already been arrested for witchcraft, how much worse is holding a tarot card going to do her in, really. So she holds it, and examines the back, and turns it over once again. In the center is a fish with broad, elegant fins, surrounded by cups.

“Nine of cups,” she says, softly, running her thumb over the number at the bottom of the card.

It grows pleasantly warm in her hand.

She… gets the feeling that it’s saying hello.

There’s magic in you, Asra had said.

Her breath catches in her throat. She puts the card down on top of the others, face-down.

She checks the bag—it’s strangely, irrationally dark when she tries to peer in it, but when she reaches in her hand closes around a leather-bound book, bigger to her touch than the shape of the bag lying against the table would indicate. She pulls it out—and the bag settles exactly as it had before, as if she had removed nothing at all—and examines it closely. It is old, the leather cracking around the spine, and the same symbol that sits outside the shop adorns its cover, well-worn by time and the touch of many hands.

She opens it slowly, mindful of the spine. Some of the pages have come loose of their binding and they nearly slip out before she tucks them back in.

The Tarot, is written in a neat, precise hand on the first page.

Directly below it, in a slightly messy but still legible scrawl, is written, Someone once gave this to me when I was first starting out. Give it a read—the salamander upstairs will help you make some tea, if you ask nicely enough.

There is no signature, but she knows who it’s from all the same. She snaps the book shut and turns it over, as if glaring at the back will solve her problems.

She gathers up the cards, the little pouch for them and the strange bag that no matter how she holds it she can’t see what’s inside. She inspects the rest of the shop, but finds it full of things she can’t identify—jars with the same handwriting as before, though notably different from Asra’s.

By the time she’s gotten tired of trying to figure out what anyone could possibly use trimmings from roots dangling off a cliff for, Cinis is meowing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for her to follow.

Upstairs, curtains have been pulled back from windows, letting in the grey Vesuvia daylight. There is a small kitchen immediately at the top, with a table and two chairs and a small, yet comfortable looking couch in the center of the room. Behind a beaded curtain and around a corner is a single bed, and a dresser full of clothes in a wide variety of colours, all of them impossibly soft yet strangely sturdy.

Much of it looks like it’ll fit her, so she tries to stuff a pair of pants in the borrowed bag—and finds that it vanishes within, the outside of the bag and how much it weighs utterly unchanged. She reaches in, and her hand closes around the pants, and she pulls them out again.

She hesitates only a moment before stuffing a drawer’s worth of clothing into the bag.

On top of the dresser is a small, ornately carved box made from a pale wood with streaks of orange-red running through it. The carved lid depicts a fox, darting between trees, a red flash in a pale forest.

She opens the box and finds a small collection of gemstones—some on rings, some on necklaces, some on their own. She’s half tempted to shove the whole thing in her bag, and somehow get it to Portia to sell. But she’s not certain she’ll ever manage it, or who even would buy something like this, these days.

There’s a lavender-coloured one, set on a thin silver necklace. On a whim she takes that, slips it over her neck and tucks it under her shirt.

Satisfied she’s gone through everything, she returns to the kitchen and opens up the stove, looking for a place to light it.

And comes face to face with a small lizard, glowing like a hot coal.

It trills when it sees her—wiggling in place, broad back spines fanning out as it smells her with its tongue, and then it turns in place several times before it begins to glow brighter, and brighter, and the wood in the stove begins to catch fire.

“Uh,” she says, blinking curiously at it. “Thanks?”

It trills happily.

Beside the stove is a small basket of wood, so she puts a few more pieces in the stove before closing the door. And then, after a moment’s thought, she opens it again and offers the lizard one of the red fruits from the tree—it makes more delighted sounds, so she tosses it in with a smile.

There is a plain kettle waiting on the stove, and as the salamander builds the fire she heads back down to fill the kettle with water from the yard. It’s quiet and peaceful, still, not a sound coming from the street past the walls.

After putting the kettle on the stove, she peers out one of the windows to see the guards standing outside, huddled together in the streets. They appear to be… drawing strings?

She watches the one who apparently drew the shortest run full-tilt towards the shop. He bounces off an invisible barrier and goes flying backwards across the street, out of view.

For what feels like the first time since this whole mess started, Kai laughs.

Cinis chirps happily in reply. She turns from the window to see him sprawled out along the back of the couch, his tail swaying lazily over its side.

When the water is boiled, she finds a heavy cast iron teapot with koi fish swirling along its sides, and a tin of… very smoky black tea. She makes a face at first, but it’s the only one she can find, so with a sigh she gets the pot brewing while she looks for a cup.

She eats one of the strange red fruit, and finds it delightfully sweet-sour. The rest of the fruit and berries she gets in a bowl, though by the time the tea has finished brewing she’s eaten half of them.

Once the pot is rinsed out and drying—Mazelinka would tan her hide if she left tea leaves in a pot—she sits down on the couch with her cup of tea and her bowl of fruit, and waits for Cinis to slip down off the back of the couch and into her lap. He kneads her for a moment, purring happily, before curling up and settling down.

Kai pauses a moment to smooth out his fur, to scratch behind his ears and to let his closeness soothe her. He is warm on her lap, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes rhythmic, and as always she finds her thoughts less scattered, her worries farther away with him near. She takes a sip of the tea and, while it is very smoky, she also finds it earthy and rich, like food cooked over Mazelinka’s little fireplace.

So calmed, she opens the book on tarot, resting it on the armrest as she begins to read.