#asra x black mc

[greyspirehollow]

Vesuvia weekly ; Sleepy Mumblings

Pairing : Liam (my mc) x Julian Devorak Fandom : The Arcana visual novel Warnings : none that I can think of (slight angst maybe, sum tension/anxiety idk)

Summary : A doctor can only do so much when it comes to healing what forbidden magic does to a man...

Nota Bene : upright ending timeline

Asra being away yet again, Liam had invited Julian to stay the night. Being on the run from everything and everyone had proven to be exhausting, and while he could always hide at Mazelinka's, Liam had really insisted that he sleep at the shop tonight. Julian could only guess he needed a little company... Which was understandable. It's not like the doctor didn't need company as well.

He was glad to stay at the shop, albeit a little anxious to be found by the guards. But feeling the warmth of Liam's body against his own was worth all the anxiety that came with it. The magician was already asleep in his arms, his breathing slow and regular. His short curly hair tickled Julian's chin as it rested atop of his head, and his pajama felt soft under his hands. The blankets added an extra layer of softness and warmth to it all, making the moment almost... Too good to be true. Julian's heart fluttered in his chest ; it had been forever since he'd felt this safe and content holding someone. His mind went back to his time with Asra, and he tried to shake away the thought. No. Liam was different from Asra. He couldn't compare the two.

He shifted a little in the bed, holding the magician closer, as he slowly but surely felt himself be lulled to sleep. Liam's soft and regular breathing, his slow and steady heartbeat, his softness and warmth... It seemed to gently caress Julian's mind, trying to bribe him to fall asleep and let go of his worries. And it was working. He almost chuckled at that. His eyelids threatened to close at any moment now, but he shifted his position and hold on Liam one last time, to be sure both of them would be comfortable, and then only did he allow himself to succumb to unconsciousness.

Late in the night, Julian felt himself stir awake. Something was amiss... He opened his eyes, only to realize he was laying in an empty bed. His heart clenched with fear in his chest as he sat up straight, patting the spot beside him. It was still somewhat warm. Julian looked around the bedroom, but his silent questions were only answered by the mute furniture and the half-opened curtains, the thin ray of moonlight peeking through only to reveal the door to the bedroom wide open. Julian felt his heart race as he slowly got up from the bed, approaching the threshold of the bedroom ; the corridor was dark, nearly pitch black. He wanted to call out, but it's as if the already silent room was keeping him quiet. He took a hesitant step into the corridor, hands gently resting against the wall as to not get lost.

As he walked, he faintly heard what sounded like whispers. He froze in his tracks. He could not make out any of the words, nor could he see whose mouth they were spilling from. His heart hammered anxiously in his chest ; could it be a ghost? He shook the thought away. He had to make sure Liam was alright first. He walked forward, his uncertain and tentative steps making soft creaks against the wooden floorboards of the corridor. The more he walked, the closer the whispers got ; and eventually, a silhouette sketched itself at the end of the corridor. Julian's eyes widened and he was pretty sure his chest was going to explode. He took a deep, steadying breath, and continued to walk forward. But yet again, his heart threatened to stop when he realized it was Liam at the end of the corridor, whispering, and facing the wall. The doctor's jaw hung slack for a hot second, before he got closer, calling out softly :

"Liam...?"

No response. Only the whispers. Julian couldn't even understand them... It seemed as if the magician was speaking a whole other language. The doctor swallowed back the anxious lump in his throat as he continued to walk forward :

"Liam, it's me, Julian..."

Still no response. More whispers. It was unnerving. The panic made Julian's chest tighten more as he got even closer, looking anxiously at the back of Liam's head. He kept whispering. The doctor put a hand on his shoulder, calling out a little more loudly this time :

"Liam ?"

The magician whipped around with a startled gasp, which nearly made Julian flinch as well.

"Julian!" Liam exclaimed in a whisper, before his tense shoulders relaxed. He seemed to look around briefly, before his eyes looked back into Julian. This is when the doctor noticed just how vibrant his green pupils were in the dark, a testament of forbidden practices. It made Julian's heart clench in his chest.

"Love, what are you doing out of bed...?" He inquired softly, tucking a curl of brown hair behind the magician's ear.

"I... I uhm..." Liam sighed "I'm sorry. It hadn't happened in a while and... I thought..." the magician shook his head. Julian's brows creased in worry.

"What? What happened ?" the doctor asked, but just as he inquired it, the answer seemed to come to his mind. "... You sleepwalk."

"huh?" Liam looked up at him, a little confused.

"You... You sleepwalk. Uhm... In your sleep, you become active as if you were awake." Julian explained, his hands coming to rest on the magician's shoulders, trying to provide a grounding and reassuring presence.

"Oh, so that's what it's called... I guess I'd forgotten." Liam nodded "Yes, I have little episodes like that. Can I ask what I was doing?"

Julian let his hand caress his face, as if to reassure both himself and the magician "you... You were facing the wall and whispering... The Arcana knows what. You weren't even speaking vesuvian."

The magician nodded, thoughtful. "Asra told me when he saw it happen himself. Those... Those are incantations." At that, the doctor's heart clenched in fear yet again. Even if he was far from an expert in magic, he knew what an incantation was.

"Is... Is it dangerous? What kind of incantations?" he inquired

Liam waved his hand dismissively, wanting to reassure him "Necrotic incantations. But they don't work, not while I'm asleep. To be effective, there has to be a conscious will to... Provoke or execute the spell, and while I'm asleep well it can't work, since I don't know what I'm doing. No, it's... More like I'm studying, y'know? Saying the words again and again so I can know them by heart" he explained, attempting to lighten the mood with a little chuckle to punctuate his explanation.

Julian sighed. He knew just how much danger Liam was putting himself in just by practicing necromancy. His life was at stake, and seeing the magic have this much of an impact on him was... Somewhat devastating. "Liam... I'm no, uh... Magic doctor but I think all of this is getting to you much more than it should.."

Liam raised an eyebrow "What is getting to me?"

Julian refrained a frustrated sigh "This. The whole necromancy thing-" he took the magician's left arm, running his hand over the bandages and talismans "you're decaying, for gods' sake"

Liam stayed silent for a moment, his gaze falling on his arm as well. His expression became somewhat remorseful "...It's... It's more complicated than it looks, Julian. I can't just... Stop"

The doctor knew this was not the time to argue about it ; it was the middle of the night and they both needed sleep. But oh how he wished he could shake some sense into the magician... He sighed and took his hands.

"Let's go back to bed. You need to sleep..."

Liam nodded and complied, following Julian back to the bedroom. Once again, they both settled down under the covers, without a word. Liam gave him a soft kiss on the lips before laying back down to rest into his arms. Julian's heart clenched in guilt and love as he looked at Liam fall asleep again.

He ran a hand through his curls, bitterly realizing that no matter how good of a doctor he was, he couldn't cure or alleviate what Liam was going through.

[vesuvianhermitcrabs]

HEART OF HOPE

A MODERN ARCANA MC X MURIEL FANFIC

CHAPTER 2

The drive to the ER was probably the most awkward half hour you've lived through. Between the man's refusal to look at you and the paramedics' snarky comments to eachother about careless driving, you just want to crawl into a hole and have the earth reclaim you.

Also, the man's animal friend wasn't let on the ambulance and he seems more worried about that than the fact he's been hit by a van.

When you finally arrive at the hospital, the man asks one of the paramedics if he can see a certain nurse, which you honestly didn't think was allowed (but who are you to judge anyways).

A moment later a wily ginger comes out of the hallway and briefly introduces himself to you as Dr Devorak (even though he's seemingly a nurse), before he walks over and starts wheeling the man's stretcher away.

Dr Devorak signals for you to walk with him as he's leaving. He then proceeds to trip over his laces.

You walk with the pair until you end up in a suspiciously spacious storage room. The nurse shuts the door behind you all, unmasks himself and takes a breath deep enough to swim in.

Not even a few seconds pass before he gets to work.

"I thought you quit," Dr Devorak murmurs as he walks over to the man's stretcher.

"I quit," the man replies curtly.

Dr Devorak pulls out a tray of antiseptic and bandages.

"Then what is this?" He raises an eyebrow, treating the man's wounds tenderly despite his strict tone.

"...Got hit by a van,"

You feel your face heat in shame.

"Oh! Good on you, then," Dr Devorak pauses for a second, deciding to finish with a nervous "...not that you were run over, I mean."

"I imagine that it would be difficult to return now anyways," the nurse added hastily.

He wraps a long strand of bandage around some of the scrapes on the man's arm. He's as flushed as you are, seemingly embarrassed from his own words.

You take a quick glance around the room.

So many things about this situation are strange, but right now it doesn't feel appropriate to ask why you're in a storage room or why theres a single nurse tending to the guy you hit with a van. You end up resorting to watching in uncomfortable silence.

The way the nurse examines and bandages up the man is so quick and precise you can't help but think this happens often.

"Ah, and Muriel, who is your absolutely scrumptious friend?" Dr Devorak says with a banterish smirk, shocking you out of your train of thought almost instantly.

So they know one another, you think.

He grumbles something unintelligible behind his black (haphazardly cut) sheet of hair.

"I hit him with my van,"

Yeah, you regret that as soon as it leaves your mouth.

"...On purpose?" Dr Devorak whips his head around to look at you, jaw slightly agape.

Muriel shrugs.

"No!" You clarify.

The silence that ensues is almost physically painful, and is only broken when you hear the rattling of a door.

"Be a lamb and get the back door, would you?" Dr Devorak asks, glancing up at you.

Why on earth does this huge storage room have a back door?

You walk over to the door to unlock it; it swings open to reveal the face of a very dishevelled individual with the massive hound from earlier trailing behind them.

Asra?

---

(A/N: i love y'all :3)

[rattymcratface]

short asra alnazar x gn!reader concept that's been sitting in my drafts

He sees you as you are, in the dark.

Red eyes zero in on him before turning away.

"Will you forgive me?"

Your voice comes out as chilly as a mid-winter storm, but Asra finds a beauty within the sound that you would scoff at should he reveal his honesty.

"What is there to forgive?" he replies, unperturbed.

He takes a few steps closer and you flinch away, curling inwards.

"I am a monster," you spit out, almost choking on the word.

"A vampire." he adds on.

"Exactly. If you knew that much already, then you should know to stop," you hiss, baring your sharp fangs in a last ditch attempt at a warning. He's getting too close.

But Asra is the stubborn type, as you've grown to know, reluctantly.

Asra stands right before you. He only gives a nonchalant glance to your bloodstained maw before meeting your eyes once more.

You break away from his gaze, ashamed. You half-heartedly try to wipe away the blood but you just end up covering yourself in it even more, painting yourself in an even more beastly appearance.

You end up settling with covering the lower half of your face with your sleeve. At least the black of the fabric hides the revolting mess underneath.

note: yes i have been brain rotting about the inherent eroticism and queerness of vampires so what. also i will probably never finish/expand this haha. originally i wanted to write a short 2-3 part story about asra and vampire!MC where they meet overseas somewhere that has winter. MC just woke up from their long slumber and the winter sun doesn't hurt them that much. asra is traveling (bc of course they are) and boom they meet in a market or something and asra is immediately intrigued by them. cue many weeks of begrudging friendship (at least on MC's part) and this was supposed to be the reveal of their vampiric nature. this is a HUGE step in their relationship and MC finally allows themselves to indulge in happiness :3 honestly their relationship can be read as platonic or romantic either way i just wanted to write asra unconditionally loving someone (vampirism as a metaphor for BPD my beloved) despite them not believing they deserve. so yes. very self indulgent.

i think this note is longer that the actual post. feel free to use this idea if you want to just tag me please please please i also want to see more vamp content 🙏

[pirunika]

Masterpost try #368

last updated: 25.9.24

Tags :

#sudraws #my writing #xx #music #photography etc.

Art Blog @mandoart

A03 (being revised)

Fave LIs in no order bc why not :

Lann (Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous)

Heinrix (Warhammer 40k Rogue Trader)

Alistair, Fenris (Dragon Age)

Garrus, Jaal (Mass Effect Trilogy)

Danse (Fallout 4)

Torian, Aric (Swtor)

Elliott (Stardew Valley)

Astraeus, Alain, Reiner, Nav (Lovestruck)

Liod, Andvari, Chris (Romance Club)

Asra, Julian (The Arcana)

Jumin Han, Zen (Mystic Messenger)

Lucifer, Mammon (Obey Me)

Hanzo (Nightshade)

Raze honestly all 3... (Demonheart)

Ernol, Haron (Ebon Light)

M, A (The Wayhaven Chronicles)

Herald, Lady Argent (Fallen Hero)

Blade (Shepherds of Haven WIP)

Laurent all of them (Perfumare WIP)

O, G (Infamous WIP)

Other Games I Play/ed

Dragon Raja Mobile

Sims free2play, mobile, 3, 4

Black Desert Mobile

Fate Grand Order

Cookie Run Kingdom

Eldarya

Lovelink

MeChat

Blush Blush

Choices

Ikemen Sengoku

Samurai LBP

A Date with Death

Andromeda Six

Saints Row

Elder Scrolls Online, Skyrim

Dungeons & Dragons Online

Lord of the Rings Online

Guild Wars 2

World of Warcraft

Slay the Princess

Fear & Hunger

Samurai of Hyuga

Blood Moon

Tin Star

Relics of the Lost Age

Soul Stone War

Tally Ho

I, the Forgotten One

Fields of Asphodel

Choice of the Deathless

Playlists :

Astraeus (Astoria Fate's Kiss - Lovestruck)

Astoria MC (aka Eos just below)

Sails in the Fog (Romance Club)

Shepherds of Haven WIP IF

Infamous WIP IF Band

Mason (Wayhaven Chronicles)

Some main-ish OCs/MCs :

Vorawin'ther Vandree 'Vora Winter' (Neverwinter/1/2, Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous — a drow in one and dhampir in the latter) #oc: vora, #oc: vorawin'ther 5"

Ayka Delgerdzaya Aeducan (Dragon Age Origins) #oc: ayka 4'7"

Nino Balkish (Star Wars the Old Republic, Chiss Mando Bounty Hunter) #oc: nino 5'11"

Emija Prizrak (Star Wars the Old Republic, Chiss Republic Trooper) #oc: emija 5'3"

Berra H'akan (Star Wars the Old Republic, Cathar Mando -by birth- Bounty Hunter) #oc: berra 4'11"

Kartili Kelborn (Star Wars the Old Republic, Twi'lek Smuggler mando ) #oc: kartili 5'6"

Yvadin Stagard (Star Wars the Old Republic, Twi'lek Bounty Hunter) #oc: yvadin 5'2"

Lirash Paaran (Star Wars the Old Republic, Togruta Bounty Hunter) #oc: lirash 5'7"

Koalcha (Star Wars the Old Republic, Chiss Imperial Agent token male oc) #oc: koalcha 6'6"

Eos Eremenko surname might vary (MC of Astoria Fate's Kiss / Lost Kisses, various other interactive fiction, Warhammer 40k Rogue Trader & my WIP interpretation of the titan goddess with the same name) #oc: eos 4'11"

Ela (The Arcana, Fictif & Choices stories + the MC of the WIP IF Perfumare: Amalgam) #oc: ela 5'8"

Eve Mac Diarmada (Obey Me / Nightbringer, my interpretation of Eve!) #oc: eve 6"

Others :

Star Wars Clan H'akan (original Mandalorian clan settled on Werda, led by Danyal H'akan - also the father of Berra) #clan h'akan

Star Wars Clan Strillir (also my Mandalorian clan on Werda, led by Sidar Strillir) #clan strillir

ASOIAF House Dawnbreak (a semi-noble household) here

Cultist Simulator (Follower) OC here

My Writing :

Homecoming, gen but Lucifer being Lucifer (OBEY ME)

My Moodboards, Edits :

SHEPHERDS OF HAVEN MC TEMPLATE

SHEPHERDS OF HAVEN MC MOODBOARD

BLADE X MC MOODBOARD

BLADE X MC MOODBOARD 2

ASTRAEUS X MC MOODBOARD 1

ASTRAEUS X MC MOODBOARD 2

ALAIN RICHTER MOODBOARD

[homiesexual-or-homosexual]

Asra and Mc on one of their many trips

Pairing: Asra x reader

Genre: not necessarily fluff, it's kinda neutral

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 818

A/n: This was requested by a friend such a long time ago, along with a few others, but I'm getting back into writing again as college chills out before spring break. I hope you guys enjoy it!! Requests are closed at the moment as I go through drafts, sorry!!

--- --- ---

Asra always kept the destination a secret, no matter how many prying questions you could come up with. All that was left was to follow his horse on your own. Luggage was settled onto the giant herbivore's haunches as they carried you to wherever these astral trails may lead you.

It wasn't much longer until you'd approached a brightly lit tunnel into another world. You blinked rapidly against the light, holding a hand over your eyes until your vision cleared.

Slowly, the light gave away to radiant blue skies that were littered with white fluffy clouds. You were in a field of long grass now, shades of green and tan reached up to lick at your fit that sat in the saddle's foot holsters. You looked around as Asra silently lead you downhill. The grasses moved with the wind, hiding small and medium creatures from the warm sun of the late afternoon.

Looking ahead, you spotted a small cabin resting before a yellow beach, a trail of flat rocks leading out into the utterly blue ocean that the cabin overlooked.

You arrived at the cabin, packing away your horse into the small stables attached to the wooden building. You dragged your luggage inside, and, with the power of magic unknown to you, the cabin was much much bigger on the inside. It had enough room for a decently sized living room and kitchen, a reading room tucked away in a corner and shielded from the world with barely transparent sparkly purple curtains. There was an upstairs, presumedly to the bedroom.

Asra lead you up there, beckoning you with a jutt of his head. He pointed you to your room and you went in. You set your luggage to the side to be unpacked later that night. The room wasn't big but it was still spectacular. A bay window in the wall opposite from the door to the bedroom, a wardrobe off to the left, and your bed to the right, covered in transparent curtains, as if to shield some of the overpowering afternoon light from the area where you would sleep.

"I'll be back," Asra spoke, scaring you from your gawking. "Just before nightfall, hopefully."

"Okay," You nodded.

"Don't stray too far," Asra told you. "Stay close to the cabin."

"I will, Asra," You told him, hoping it would soothe his worries about you.

Before long, Asra left you alone in the cabin, setting off on his horse and taking Faust with him. And tempted to explore, you shed yourself of the multiple layers of traveling clothes and left yourself in a tight crop top and a long, flowy skirt. You ventured outside and into the ocean, tempted by the blue color and the possibility of the creatures that reside inside. Stepping out to the point where the salty water covered up until just below your chest, you realized how clear the water really was. You were still able to see the sandy sea floor and your bare feet that sunk into the small, yellow particles.

Fish swam between your legs and pushed your skirt to and fro. They were colorful, ranging from whites and blacks to bright pinks. Seagulls and oceanic birds of prey called from above, as if aware of the newcomer, eyeing you from a safe distance as they circled above.

Moray eels joined the fish, gaping maws and long bodies brushing against your legs. Some of the smaller fish found safety below your shirt, floating there away from predators.

Chirps and shrills sounded from further in the ocean and you spotted large fins making their way above the water. In different spots, air and water were sent into the sky. There must be a whale pod not to far from the reef you found yourself standing in.

"They like you," Asra scared you once again. You hadn't realized you'd been out here this long.

"Huh?" You asked, no idea what he was talking about.

"The creatures, the ocean," Asra informed. "I'm lucky if I get two seahawks above, the red-ish raptors above us."

You look up, the raptors were closer now, still circling.

"Oh," Was all you could say.

"You have a way with animals," Asra said. "Especially those of the water. You should really look into that."

You look over at Asra, his purple eyes reflecting the shining light of the ocean and his clean, white hair whipping around in the wind. He looked out of place in the ocean, he belonged more on land. You, not so much.

"I guess I should," You told him.

One of the raptors from above voiced their agreement before flying off as a group, them towards the shore and the seagulls out into the ocean.

"We should get back before it gets dark," Asra turns to walk back to the beach of your temporary home. "It gets cold out here."

You nod, turning to follow him.

--- --- ---

Taglist: @kookiedough1336

[thenightcallsme]

The Arcana: Julian's Route | Chapter 4

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

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

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

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Fem!Magician Reader

This Chapter Contains: N/A

Word Count: 6,415

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

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

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

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

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

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

Again?

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

"Viv?"

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

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

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

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

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

⋆˚｡⁺⋆

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

“Morning, Vivian.”

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

“Morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

"I...thank you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Beautiful!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The jewels…”

“From my own collection,” she adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My spell worked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...Vivian. Vivian Caelum."

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

I hate that the simple remark makes my cheeks flush.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where did you get these?" he breathes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"All of them remain." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The raven? What raven?"

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

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

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

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

"Guards! Palace guards!" The barkeep warns.

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

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

"Wha— where are we going?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey! You there!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I continue to smile. "Never."

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

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

What am I doing?

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

[brownandblackpearls]

☾☄✯☁ Moonlit Bath in the Oasis  (Asra x BlackReader) Pt. 3

 PART 3, FINAL, SUMMARY:

After a long, harsh journey, the Beast delivers you and Asra to a hidden oasis in the desert for some relaxation and rejuvenation. You wander off to take a bath in the oasis’s mystic pool. Asra decides to join you. You reveal some things to one another.

─── Asra x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── Nighttime, aftercare, penetrative sex, praise kink, magic lotion, body oils, pretty bubbling pools.

☾ part 1 ☾ part 2

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

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

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you have a feeling that the night is stretching on longer than it normally should. 

You don’t know if that’s because you’ve been mindlessly trapped in the feeling of Asra’s skin against yours, the cool waves lapping against you both as you spread for him and take every impact, every motion…or if it’s because the oasis can bend that part of reality too. Conjure the immaterial, stretch time, safe-haven the both of you for as long as you desire.

Asra’s leaned forward, still rocking into you, biting harshly at your lip before soothing the pain with a long, intimate kiss. You continue to open for him, cradling the back of his neck with a firm hand and indulging yourself. 

It’s another kind of feeling to have both Asra’s tongue and length plunging in and out of you simultaneously. 

It’s another kind of feeling to have Asra with you, like this.

A heated culmination of all the nights of tense closeness, hidden glances, quick touches, rushed murmurs, lowly whispered words lost to the wind. All the nights you waited for his return, your confidante, your best friend. 

Asra, Asra, Asra…

“I’m right here,” he answers softly, slowing his ministrations and coming back to himself a little bit. You must’ve spoken aloud…! The lust in his eyes was being overtaken by concern, like so many moments with Asra, where you mattered the most. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You always matter the most, to him.

You feel him rub his hands comfortingly up and down your arms before caressing your waist, your face.

“Are you still with me?” He asks you, focusing intently.

You smile slowly, nodding. Of course you are. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but by his side.

“Are you tired? Do you need me to slow down or stop?”

You shake your head in adamant refusal, encircling your arms around his neck and pulling him close. You are a little worn from your couplings, but not worse for wear in the slightest.

“I want to feel you. I want to see you,” you plead.

Asra smiles at this, slowly beginning again and you can’t help but whine, your sensitivity overtaking and erasing any numbness you may have felt just moments before. The noise seems to spur Asra on, who you’re now beginning to see has an undercurrent of a dominant streak in him. 

He likes seeing you writhe under him, for him. He likes seeing you beg for him, only to then struggle to take all of him. He likes seeing you stretch, seeing you redden beneath your dark undertones in exertion, seeing your face twist in pleasure. He loves seeing you succeed in taking all of him, most of all, it seems.

The overstimulating sensation finally passes and mellows out into an easy, steady, staccato of pleasure. 

You’ve already came twice, and you feel like goo at this point, pleasant and sensitive, just here to enjoy the ride. You don’t know if you can cum again, but you wouldn’t put it past yourself, not with Asra here.

You clasp your arms around his shoulders and feel them stiffen as he begins to wantonly moan into your mouth, hips stuttering. His moves grow clumsier, and he misses your lips near the end, but it seems as though the gasping breath he seeks is more needed at the moment than locking lips.

He’s close, you realize. Very close.

“Where?” He rasps, seemingly taken by surprise at the immensity of the orgasm that’s about to hit him.

“Inside,” you insist. There would be other places he could lay his mark on you, for other nights.

Not this one, though.

Asra makes a sound close to a sob at your choice of words before his breathing picks up even further, his body curling deeper into yours. Under your embrace, you can feel his back muscles spasm and his thrusts grow slower, longer. You ride the wave with him, dragging him over the edge. You draw him closer with strong legs on his waist, and a clawed hand on the globe of his ass.

Asra calls your name once, twice before you begin feel him pulsate within you. 

“...!”

You expect him to go stock still, but his body has other plans entirely. As the orgasm washes over him, Asra forces you flat together, arching his back and slowly undulating with you, his face reddening deeply from the bridge of his nose all the way to the tips of his ears.

His eyes close and he winces, lost entirely to the orgasm. He probably wouldn’t hear you even if you screamed out his name. You would’ve thought he was in pain if the pleasure did not ring so sweetly, so clearly on his face. 

Pleased, you run your fingers through his hair, trailing your nails across his scalp through the icy locks. You begin to whisper all sorts of quiet, lusty praise and admiration into his ear, gasping every so often at the feel of him throbbing inside of you. 

“That’s it…let it all go, I can take it, I can take you…”

You feel sensation bloom in all the places Asra’s touching inside of you, as hot as the desert sun. He’s buried in you, filling you just as you wanted from the beginning, marking you inside and out.

Asra slides his teeth on you and sucks the skin across your collarbone, but you feel his movements slow down. He is riding out the last vestiges of his orgasm, it seems. Now he rests his head against your chest, simply catching his breath and mixing his sweat with yours, alongside the condensation from the heated pool.

You cradle his head for a moment while he holds you, unmoving, just calming.

For a moment, the pleasant night’s calm surrounds you. Then Asra speaks.

“We didn’t even bathe, did we?”

Your laugh is sudden, sweet. 

“No, we didn’t.”

Asra tucks his chin on your chest and looks up at you, cheeks still reddened and hazy from exertion.

“Should we do that now...? Or can I be with you a little longer?”

You tut at him, brows furrowing in jest.

“You weren’t kidding about the ‘animal’ bit, huh?”

Asra chuckles, waving his fingers and closing his eyes momentarily. When they open again, he smiles wickedly. He’s cast a spell, but you’re not sure which one. You can only feel that he’s changed somehow…

“Of course not. I am always honest.”

You chuckle again, placing a hand on his chest and shaking your head with humor in your eyes.

“That statement wasn’t even honest, Asra.”

“Fine,” he submits, playfully. “I will be your animal then, for tonight. I’ll show you better than I can tell you.”

With that, Asra gently pulls out from your body, the both of you gasping at the feeling of unsheathing from one another. Then, he submerges below the water, pulling your hips down onto the seated rim and spreads your legs.

You tap at his shoulders underwater, urging him back up. His concerned look is beaten out by yours.

“Can you breathe down there for long?” You inquire worriedly. “I love the ingenuity Asra, trust me, but I don’t want you to injure yourself—”

His wet form leans in to kiss you long and hot, before pulling back.

“—I am a master magician,” he reminds you. “I could spell myself to breathe underwater all night, if I needed to. Don’t worry about me. Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

“We could do it on the bed! Then you won’t have to risk yourself.”

“And miss our bath…?”

“Ha! We’re not even bathing!”

“We will,” he promises. “After I make you tremble one more time.”

“...I don’t know if I can cum again,” you answer honestly. “I mean...I could. But it might take you a while down there.”

Asra bites his lip, looking a little shy for the first time since he’s stepped in the pool with you.

“I, uh…I really enjoy it. So it’s good thing! That you’ll take a bit longer...”

You stare at him for a moment before leaning in to run your hand back through his hair, tightening it just a fraction. The move is enough to send the lusty haze right back into his gaze.

‘He enjoys using his mouth, then,' you understand. ‘I’ll remember that.’

“Will you let me return the favor, afterwards?”

Asra nods, wordless.

“And it’s alright if I hold your head? Pull hair?”

He nods again. “Please.”

“And you’ll come back up if you need air—?”

He kisses you one final time before smirking.

“—I won’t need it. Trust me.”

With that, Asra submerges once again and you lay your head back against the stone, quickly sinking back into the feeling of pleasure and coital bliss.

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

After Asra succeeds in making you spill over for the…you’ve lost count, haven't you?…you returned the favor eagerly. The two of you embraced and kissed for a long while after that, simply tasting one another.

“Alright,” he eventually concludes. “Bath time?”

You nod eagerly. Asra waves his hand over the pool before the water seems to refresh itself, turning clear and bubbling once more. 

You glance over to spy a pretty glass full of shimmering liquid on the stones of the pool, assuming it to be body wash. When you uncap it and sniff gingerly, you smile at the comforting scent and settle on it. 

You scrounge up a bright sponge, a thick scrubbing brush, and a soft washcloth to float in the water beside you both.

Wordlessly, Asra grabs the sponge and drizzles body wash over it, pumping the sponge once, twice, before gently maneuvering you to turn around so he can wash your back.

You smile softly, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of Asra shifting you this way and that, scrubbing all the parts of you above water that he can reach. His hands go lower and you allow him access to all of you as he scrubs away the remnants of sex off of your body and from in between your legs. His tongue did a fine job only moments ago, but his afterthought is kind, sensual, and sweet. 

Your feet are the last to go as he raises your leg above water and into his grip to clean you lovingly. The brush tickles your soles and you think Asra does more scrubbing than necessary just to watch you fight pleasant giggles away. Asra leans down to kiss at your calf before re-submerging your limb and drawing you closer.

This part almost feels as intimate as the sex, if not more-so. Asra is touching all areas of you to clean and care for you, to polish you like the pearl you are, the treasure he sees you as. 

You pull aside your hair wash, preparing to clean yourself.

“May I...?” Asra questions.

You stare wide-eyed before nodding, deciding to allow him this. You hand over the hair wash.

Pleased, Asra lays you against him as he lathers up your curls before massaging your scalp. You almost sink straight into sleep as he works through your coarse locks, finally rousing once more when the water runs over it all and rinses you off. He whispers gentle soothings in your ear, easing you back to consciousness. 

“So good...my girl...you look so pretty for me...”

Your face warms under the lavish words, before you take over from there and spell the remaining moisturizers, conditioner, braids, and twists back into your hair. 

You’re far too eager to bathe Asra, so you finish your routine the speedy, mystical way.

“My turn.”

You grab a washcloth and lather it up in the body wash before laying it across Asra’s body, beginning the long, pleasurable task of soaping him up. You need nothing more than a touch him to get him to adjust the way you want, an understanding blooming between the two of you. You kiss between lathers, moving in closer as you soap his legs and feet too.

 You leave his cock for last, noticing his tangible excitement as you take far too long to wrap your washcloth around his length and clean him up. You fondle his heavy balls before tracing back to his cock. He pins you down with a heated,  weighty gaze, knowing your mischievous ways. You feel as though some sort of (pleasurable?) punishment will be in your future if you don’t cease, and so you decide to leave his, now-glistening cock, alone.

“Which shampoo would you like?” You ask him.

Asra thinks on it before turning to the bottles. He sniffs the different ones before deciding on one and handing it gently to you. 

You take it and spin him around, building a lather between your hands before beginning to work on his hair. 

It’s soft and lovely, much like yours, and yet so different. You silently thank his mother for the platinum-colored locks gleaming underneath your fingers. For several minutes, you stimulate and massage Asra’s crown, and he too falls victim to the lure of sleep. 

You’re happy that you both can make one another so comfortable in each other’s presences that sleep isn’t even a second option. You murmur sweet nothings, and he wakes to the sound of your voice, smiling softly. 

“Do you like this, Asra...? So sweet for me, so pliant...”

You rinse him off and hold him close. He holds you back.

After finishing up bathing, Asra steps out of the pool first before turning to help you with an outstretched hand. He eases you up onto the stone and back onto solid ground. 

You reach for a vase of lotion before Asra gently stops you.

“I brought you something,” he reveals, walking over to his satchel in the nude before returning with an odd looking glass bottle. “I made it. For you.”

Holding the bottle, you spy a clear, crystal liquid within it.

“Body oil?” You inquire wondrously.

“Yes,” Asra nods. “It’s enchanted. I added some special properties. Your ointments and balms work just fine, I just thought…”

You smile, your heart warming immensely.

“Thank you, Asra. This was so thoughtful of you. Would you...like to help put it on me?” You ask. Perhaps he has had his fill of touching you for the night...?

No, you realize as you spy the joy on his face. How could you have ever underestimated his desire for you? It’s a bottomless, overflowing well.

Asra lights up at the suggestion, nodding fast. He is quick to uncap the bottle and begins massaging the oil into your skin.

Faust slithers by suddenly, much fatter than before, and glances over. She must’ve gotten into the food, you realize. That must have been what was distracting her while you and Asra were engaged in carnal delights...

‘Shiny!’

You chuckle, nodding. “Yes, Faust. Shiny.”

‘Pretty?’

“You think so?”

‘Pretty!’

Asra smiles, his brow lifting. “I’d take that as a yes if I were you. I guess Faust approves of my gift, too.”

You nod in agreement, returning your gaze to Asra’s hands sliding over your body. You can feel the inklings of something mystic in the oil, simmering at the edge of your skin. 

It feels powerful, strong, protective. You feel even more beautiful than normal. 

When Asra’s hands slide across your chest, backside, and front, he looks away shyly. You find the move humorous, seeing as how he was just buried deep inside you only minutes before. Perhaps the shyness is because there’s nowhere to hide his growing hard-on, outside of the bubbling pool. 

You lean your head against his chest and close your eyes, not wanting him to feel anxious. You’re just satisfied that he responds so quickly, so strongly to the sight of you. The feel of you is enough to send him over the edge. You never have to worry if you please him, if you satisfy him. You’re still throbbing from your lovemaking only a short while ago, further damning proof of his interest. The gift of oil and the sex only cements what you’ve known he’s felt for you, long before you ever laid together in only your skin in this private oasis.

Finishing up, his careful, gentle hands cease in administering his gift upon your skin. Now, your body is dewy and glimmering, as if there are microscopic stars or gems imbedded into the very surface of you.

You turn to Asra, eyes wide.

“I love this gift, Asra!” you exclaim, turning this way and that. “...Can I share it with you?”

He blushes, scratching behind his ear before nodding slowly. He watches intently as you pour the oil into your own palm before you begin to work your hands on him.

Different from the bubbles and water, here, you can see every muscle shift, every configuration of every limb on his body. 

You can see the rise and fall of his chest, the long line of his navel, his slip hips, his frosty trail traveling from low under his navel all the way to his groin. His forearms seem so much bigger and stronger underneath your palms. His lithe form, his lovely posture, his broad shoulders, all of it is visible and within reach like this. 

Your hands brush over his nipples and he inhales ever so sharply. You cover all his bases, overjoyed to take him in properly. You choose not to tease him too much as you had in the pool, making quick work of his sensitive, erogenous areas. 

Before long, Asra gleams as you do, under the low lights of the oasis.

“We shouldn’t dress just yet, or we’ll ruin our night clothes. Sit with me?”

Together, you let the oil sit for a bit and absorb, just talking and reminiscing over good times. 

Asra’s in awe at how fervent you were in your lovemaking, in just how much you enjoy to share yourself with him. You assure Asra that it’s not obsession, but a deep devotion and affection that drives your actions towards him. 

You don’t just love Asra. You laugh with him. You smile with him. You trust him, you know you can cry and fall apart with him if you ever need to. You know that he thinks you will grow stronger than him one day, that you are gorgeous, accomplished, that you can have anyone. And yet you choose him, again and again and again. 

Just as well, he knows he can do the same with you. You hold little judgement against him, you respect him whilst still understanding that even as one of the most powerful men in Vesuvia, that he is still human and flawed beneath it all. That you accept him, in all forms.

Blushing at your verbal reveal, he embraces you tightly before pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You have to know how I feel about you…?” He wonders, his eyes searching and nervous. The words seem to escape him.

“I do,” you nod. “But can you say it?”

Asra tilts his head and brushes his lips against yours, his eyes sliding closed and his white lashes brushing against yours. 

“…’love you…” he whispers, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips.

“Again, Asra.”

“I love you,” he repeats, slowly taking you into his arms. You go easily.

“Again.”

“I love you.” He kisses your collarbone. “I love you.” He kisses your brow. “I love you.” He kisses your nose.

Faust climbs up his arm and splays across the back of your neck, hissing a little, serpentine kiss between the both of you.

‘Love!’

You both break out into peals of laughter, as you verbally affirm your love for both Asra and Faust. 

Over-joyed at your confession, Asra hoists you and Faust up into his arms, turning towards the round bed. You and the familiar are deposited gently onto the bedding and Faust slithers away into the blankets, curling around your leg for warmth. Asra lays beside you, beaming with a smile larger than life.

Together, under the lights of the oasis, you talk with Asra long into the night. 

You dream together, both awake and in sleep, of a new life you will build with one another. A strong union, convened in romance, friendship, affection, and of course, magic beyond the wildest of dreams.

What a wondrous life it will be, indeed...

...A life with many return visits back to the oasis, of course.

END

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

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

☾ part 1 ☾ part 2

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

[onyxamv]

Welcome

Here I publish my writing and art!

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

Fandoms which I write for:

The Arcana:

*Julian Devorak

*Portia

*Muriel

*Asra

*Nadia

*Valerius

*Valdemar

*Volta

*Vulgora

Black Butler:

*Sebastian

*Claude

*Grelle

*Alois (only platonic)

*Ciel (only platonic)

*Undertaker

*William T. Spears

*Madame Red

*Nina Hopkins

*Mey-Rin

*Baldroy

*Finny

Attack On Titan:

*Erwin Smith

*Miche Zacharius

*Levi Ackermann

*Hange Zoë

*Eren Jeager

*Mikasa Ackerman

*Armin Arlert

*Sasha Braus

*Reiner Braun

*Annie Leonhart

*Jean Kristein

*Connie Springer

*Pieck Finger

My Hero Academia:

*Shota Aizawa

*Hizashi Yamada

*Keigo Takami

*Dabi

*Shigaraki Tomura

*Iida Tenya

*Sero Hanta

*Kirishima Ejirou

*Tsuyu Asui

*Mezo Shoji

*Denki Kaminari

*Bakugo Katsuki

*Todoroki Shoto

*Mina Ashido

*Shinso Hitoshi

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

This is all I can do for now!

Here are the rules you have to follow to request!

I will not write NSFW

No incest

No abuse/toxic relationship/yandere

Maybe a little angst BUT not death or things like that

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

I will write MalexMale and FemalexFemale just specify it please

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

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

I do not write anything with oc's

Remind you, this is a safe place for everyone!

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

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

(edited post)

-Onyx <3

[marvel-ousnesss]

Masterlist (requests open)

Prompt list

Request!

Tools

* = series

DESCENDANTS:

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

↠ Little Flame (Hades x reader)

MARVEL:

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

THE WITCHER:

↠ Flesh, not porcelain (Geralt x reader) *

Part II

Part III

DIVERGENT:

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

X-MEN:

↠ Safe Heaven (Warren Worthington III x reader)

ELITE:

↠ When you look at me (Valerio x reader)

↠ There for you (Valerio x reader)

↠ Unrequited (Valerio x reader)

HARRY STYLES:

↠ Hand in hand (Harry Styles x reader)

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER:

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

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

↠ Sokka x reader

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

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

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

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

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

Sunflower (Bucky x reader) by @softlybarnes

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

Double Blind (Bucky x reader) by @wkemeup

hold my hand (Bucky x reader) by @chaoticarson

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

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

Living with Julian x Asra by @justmevoldemort

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

Robb Stark x Lannister!reader by @writingfortoomanyfandoms

Team Work (Eggsy Unwin x Reader) by @ijustwant2write

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

Dusky Pink (MGK x reader) by @harringtonstudios

zuko x Waterbender!reader by @passable-talent

Look at me (Thor x reader) by @marvelousmarvelimagines

Saving you (Anakin x reader) by @certifiedskywalker

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter Parker x soulmate!reader by @glossybarnes

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

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

For real (Grayson Dolan x reader) by @babeygray

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

Manipulating bitch (JJ Maybank x reader) by @mayraki

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

Here again (Steve Rogers x reader) by @marvelinsanity

Biggest fan (Calum Hood x reader) by @ukulelecal

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

Stardust (Zuko x reader) by @starrysokka

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

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

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

The eternal flame (JJ x reader) by @kikifromtheblock

Sexy (Tom Holland x reader) by @waitimcomingtoo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Open (Harry Styles x reader) by @bfharry

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

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

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

[apprenticemauvekatana]

So like, Asra and the MC definitely did it on that beach right?

[imarriedyourwifegoatman]

Mod Pita: 69 notes you know what that means!?

Mod Dill: you dont have enough notes to be famous

[Ps I just added random tags uwu ~mod dill]

[gamerbot-22]

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

Part two to the following request by @dameschnee123!

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

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

DNI

C & TWs include:

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

Part 1 | Part 3 (WIP)

🩸 Julian (x)

"HERE! I’M HERE!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y...You."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y-You promise it's safe?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It would be my pleasure, love."

🐻 Muriel (x)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you kidding? I'm starving."

[tinyproprodigy]

"I'll still be waiting" - Asra x reader

||Reblogs are welcome!||

||Note: you will be addressed as "you" the whole time without mention of any gender specifications.||

Special lines

+ "I'll still be waiting"

+ only readers pov

+ Mc from The arcana is included-

+ and its not you! (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

+ lost memories

+ death

+ a lot of angst

"I'll still be waiting!" You exclaimed to the little boy as he waved back at you with a huge smile, yelling "bye-bye!"- not once stopping his speeding pace towards the forest. Asra- only seven years old- had been a mischievous child. Always discovering ways to uncover trouble, even in the most unpredictable situations. But that's something you liked about him. Even if he was basically a "trouble-causing orphan peasant" as your parents put it and that caused conflict between your relationship with them, not that you cared to begin with." spending so much time with that brat will ruin our reputation" they remarked at the dinner table. "you have to make new friends that won't wound your image as our child." they declared another day at a gathering amongst other wealthy families. But you didn't heed, nor did you ever bring it up to Asra- too engaged in listening to him gush about how he outsmarted the count yet again.

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"I'll still be waiting." You said with a polite smile as he wandered out of sight, you had more responsibilities now at the age of 14. This would soon take a heavy toll on the meager time available to spend with Asra, but he was determined to find a way for you two to unwind and have fun. Whether he had to magic his way in, which could mean literal, figurative or even both at the same time.

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"I'll still be waiting..." You spoke to him as you watched the now seventeen-year-old grin back, dramatically tipping his mask as if it were a hat and slipping through the crowd of people. He had been dead set on selling masks for the masquerade. One he had created for you as a souvenir of sorts rested on your silky bed. The way it was formulated fit your features very well.

He had forever been an imaginative and skillful person and this wasn't a new revelation to you. You were convinced he would trade all his masks within a few twinklings and bounce back with his reward and a bag of pumpkin bread as he talked about everything that happened, the emotion radiating from him as his eyes sparkled every time he had told a tale.

Waiting was all that occurred that day, as you had refused to attend the masquerade- much to your parent's displeasure and the scolding and lecture you'd receive after they had returned. The possibility of punishment was just as high too.

"but it was worth it" you thought as you visualized his violet eyes glimmering with thrill as he picks at his fluffy white hair, the moonlight illuminating his golden-brown skin as he sat on your windowsill, speaking in a hushed tone as to not alert your parents. The thought of just such a simple situation left you giddy as a warm feeling coursed through your stomach. Butterflies.

Non of that actually happening, as you lingered by the windowsill, counting stars then switching to poking at the your lavender coloured crystal hanging on the black lace around your neck. One similar to his blue one he always wore. He had given it to you once as a gift. It was one of the main causes of the way you felt towards the oblivious magician. Receiving a gift randomly, without the reason of a celebration does that to a person.

Unbeknown to you, he had just been aqcuanted with another magician. One he had grown a liking to at first glance.

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"I'll still be waiting..." You flashed a quick smile, a bittersweet feeling welling up in you as you waved back at not just Asra, but his new companion this time. They looked adorable together... This had been quite an unexpected surprise the first time you heard about it. Asra ran back to you as you welcomed him with the usual polite smile- yet more natural than the ones anyone else receives.

The first thing he mentioned was how he had come upon someone who had owned a magic shop, which was nice- delightful even. He was finally branching out and making more genuine friends other than you and Muriel, which you were also acquainted with.

This was all terrific until you caught a glimpse of how he glowed brighter when he was talking about mc, how a darker shade of golden brown tinted his cheeks as he brought up their response to something he had said that night. He was... Quite fond of them wasn't he...

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"...I'll still be waiting" you muttered to yourself, understanding full well he hadn't given attention to your reply as he scurried out of the library- heading to another. He had confessed to you about mc's unfortunate passing a few weeks ago because of the plague and you had comforted him to your best abilities. Not familiar with death of someone you cared about to begin with just yet.

Countless nights you had stayed over at the shop as you let him bawl his eyes out on your shoulder, wiping his tears away as he had cried himself to sleep. This had gotten you punished numerous times but, "Asra deserves better..." You thought as you recalled his tearful Amethyst shaded eyes.

It had become a routine for him to suffer like this. Moving around from library to library, searching for books he refused to reveal to you and to always end with his head on your lap as you ran your fingers through his soft hair, tear-stained face now dry as you worked on gently wiping them away.

This caused your heart to ache as your chest felt tighter every time you had witnessed this. He was depressed. Broken even. You didn't like seeing him like this. He deserved better. He had the right to happiness, and you could barely do anything about it.

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This time you did not say anything as you observed him leaving, having a voyage of your own. Discovering what he had been up to was not a troublesome thing as you were somewhat gifted when it came to things like this and picked up and pieced together things almost instantly, quicker than any typical individual could. He was setting in motion, a ritual of sorts. Looking into Lucio was even simpler as you easily found out most of the rules like how he needed 22 willing people and only had...five...

A direct approach to something this complicated was not an option as this evolved a lot of obvious change and conflict in the future and the only thing left to do was help indirectly. But you'd do anything to catch a glimpse of him smiling and recalling something he and mc had done together while you listened in silence just one more time. As bittersweet as those memories still are for you- he was happy. "And that's all that matters"

"Pomegranate juice..." You mumbled, a tired smile slowly growing as you silently shook your head at the thought, inspecting the huge wine decanter further. Your reflection caught your attention as you looked into the glass. You appeared tired. Dark circles under your eyes and hair between the lines of disheveled and decent.

You had drawn a syringe out of your sleeve and over Asra's glass as you watched it dribble into it. The lavender- yet water-like liquid mixes with the pomegranate juice.

Already feeling more strain on your limbs, you sauntered out of the room in a involuntarily slow pace. He had found trouble yet again, but you'd be always there for him, watching his back from afar. After all, he was worth it.

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"I'll still be waiting." You grimaced as you waved his worried glance off, closing the window of your bedroom as a coughing fit took over you. You had been intentionally keeping distance from anyone at all, much to the maids, especially Asra's concern. It could not be helped as they would know something they shouldn't know.

About three days ago he come back to you with a new circumstance. One you understood more about than he did but you feigned ignorance nonetheless. Mc was back in Asra's life and he was feeling much more optimistic. Somewhat at least. Knowing a plenty about the ritual, you had taken account to the memory loss fraction. He didn't remember much himself but mc was way worse.

Not as disastrous as they could've been, the light-purple liquid had been a tremendous undetected help on their portion. This enabled mc to have a better connection to their assigned Arcana Card. The fool. This also assisted them further as they now could not be threatened by the same menace twice in a lifetime.

This was not a regular element to hand out causally, as it had taken an immense toll in the core of your mystic abilities and soon, your body. As days pushed by, you showed up to be even more sickly, gazing up at the stars with a light smile as you reflected on how Asra was doing at the moment.

"He wasn't crying anymore" you muttered to yourself with a bitter laugh as you ran your hand through your disheveled hair. Silence soon came, drowning your thoughts as you perched at the vacant terrace in a lull silence.

Closing your eyes, the wind gently brushed against your face as you listened to the trees brush up against each other, calmness being disturbed as you started desperately panting for air and coughing more violently from time to time.

There was a little secret you had never confessed to anyone just yet though, not your parents, the few friends you had, or even Asra himself.

The secret was...You were slowly dying thanks to your little concealed stunt.

A pained smile was all you could muster as the moonlight illuminated across your face, wind gently shifting trees around. Weak ends of your clothing moving along at the peaceful pace.

It felt pleasant to you, unaware of how this would be your last night on the terrace, last night gazing at the stars, last night worrying about him.

Last night being alive.

You'd always be there for him though, after everything that had happened, nothing changed as the same line was the last line you'd ever recite.

"...I'll still be waiting..."

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[thyfatedenemy]

It takes a little boldness

Pairing: Asra x Mc

Summary: Mc died in Asra's place, yet their ghost still haunts Lazarath and calls out to Asra

Something pulls them toward the abandoned island, tugging at their heart and soul, pleading his very being to come closer, to set sail toward it and land on the ashy shores of Lazareth.

Something familiar, something kind yet something so terribly lonely it almost hurts.

Something, no, someone is calling him toward the island, luring them closer and closer like a siren singing to their prey, yet, Asra feels no danger, in fact the pull comforts them, even if it's a little eerie.

Yet they would not set foot on the island for two more years, unknowingly causing hurt to the one calling out.

It takes a little boldness to go into the unknown, after all.

Years pass, yet the tugging never ends, growing more and more lonesome with every passing day. Occasionally they wonder what could be the force that tugs them toward the island where they almost took their last breath. Is it the guilt of surviving? The morbid curiosity of humans? Maybe they'd never know.

All he remebers are the laboured breaths, once they were certain were meant to be their lasts, the burning that spread in his veins, how they begged for it to stop.

And then it did.

Everything goes black, yet, it's not death that lulls them to sleep, it's the muffled words of someone long forgotten, words they can not seem to remeber, yet they haunt them. Echoing in his mind, Asra can never make out what they say, yet, they comfort him.

"A miracle recovery" that's what people called it. The plague that was meant to kill them disappeared in the matter of days, breathing became easy, blood didn't feel like it was boiling, their eyes returned to normal, everything did.

Except for a gnawing feeling of something missing.

The clothes that didn't seem to be his style, the accessories they'd never worn, the extra pillows and blankets.

The scent that make him burst into tears, the feeling of someone missing that burns him worse than any plague could.

All he had for comfort was Faust, the snake had been odd for the first year after his recovery, asking for someone, a name he didn't recognice.

Everyone arround them was odd, asking for the same name, yet, the same answer always slipped, no matter who wrong it felt.

"Sorry, I don't know who that is"

Mc, Mc, Mc, the name seemed to follow him no matter where Asra went, friends offered pitied glances, it seemed like they all knew who Mc was, what they meant to him, yet none told him, each time he tried to remeber, tried to pry, a splitting headache took over, one that took days to recover from.

And now he stands here, alone at the docs, wind pushing their back, trying to shove them to the small boat, trying to give them the courage to go on, to step into the unknow and learn it's secrets, no matter how painful some of them may be.

And finally, after just a moments hesitation, he takes a deep breath, he takes a step, and the boat dips a little under them.

And begins to row toward the island that had called to him for so long.

The boat hit the shore with a small jolt, the winds howling louder and louder, pushing the bow deeper into the ash. Truly there was no turning back now. So they begun to walk, not even knowing where to go, following what felt like instinct and heart, trusting it to guide them to the right direction.

With each step foward, the howling lessens, with each wrong step, the wind guides him till the sight of a messy path catches their attention.

"This is the way" his heart tells him.

It's an unclear path, only thing as an indicator are the broken branches that seem to lead somewhere deep into the island, away from the broken down stone building.

Finally.

This is the place.

There's nothing special about it, it doesn't stick out against the scenery, everything about it blends in with the enviroment, yet Asra knows he's exactly where he's supposed to be.

The wind stops it's relentless howling, the island goes quiet, everything is silent, the moon barely lighting the way.

It's this way for moments, till the wind pushes again, gentler this time, warmer, a familiar voice echos through the air.

They shed a tear.

Then another.

Something warm wraps around them, and Asra collapses.

"Asra, my darling Asra" the voice lulls in a comforting tone as he weeps. They don't know why, why it hurts to much to hear this voice, why it feels like they finally found that which was missing.

They felt a familiar hand on his cheek, trying to brush away the falling tears. With a deep breath, they concentrate and that something finally takes form.

A familiar face infront of him, a familiar smile greeting them, gentle hands caressing gently.

"You finally came, my love"

Asra didn't know who this was, why they felt so comforting, why love overwhelmed him. All they knew that right now, in this moment, everything was just as it was meant to be.

They'd found that which was missing.

Tags: @thosevesuvianthots @crowtrinkets

[to-the-stars8]

The Lamentation of the Apprentice

Parings; Past Female!Apprentice x Asra Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Ao3

Chapter 4

Muriel's little corner of the world was beautiful. The walk from the city to the woods came with a drastic difference. We walked miles from seeing people to suddenly seeing none. The sound of birds singing and the rustling of leaves replaced the endless echo of people talking. It was utterly serene. When we did make it to the place his home was, it was apparent that Muriel was an outcast from society. His hut, built with stone into an old tree, gave a warmth that only homes so welcoming to those close had. A place where secrets could be said a loud and kept safe.

Yet when I first met Muriel, excited with hope to make a new friend, he slammed the door in my face. Muriel was in the clearing in front of his home when Asra and I appeared, bent over his unnaturally tall frame to feed the chickens that clucked around him. When he looked up, deep green eyes meeting mine, I was surprised by how handsome he was.

Asra had made him sound as if he was war-torn from how he described Muriel. Years in the woods had bulked him to the point that his scarred muscles were well-defined, and, even the few feet I stood away from him a heavy scent of myrrh reached the air--The smell seemed to follow him.

Standing straight, Muriel pushed his oily, long black hair away from his face to properly give me a once over before retreating back into his hut, the chain around his neck clinking as he did so.

I looked at Asra with utter horror. What had I done to upset him? What did Asra tell him? The questions whirled in my head as I tried to make sense of what wrong I had done in such little time. Asra watched as his friend disappeared behind the door, an absolute momentarily look of disappointment crossed his face before returning neutral.

He sighed and patted me on the back with reassurance. “Worry not, Muriel is uncomfortable around new people. He is much more kin to the green of the Earth rather than the people who live on it.”

A bit of relief pushed at the negative thoughts. “I am glad that I did not offend him in any way. I was afraid of having done such.”

“No, but,” The magician leaned in close to whisper to me. “Do not ask of his chains.”

Not thinking much of it, I nodded and then followed Asra through the door of the hut. Compared to the cooler weather outside, the inside was perfectly warm.

Never before had I seen a house built into a tree, so I wondered at it. Tree roots came in through the ceiling, and were utilized to hang pans, herbs, and furs. As I passed a root with white fur on it, I brushed my hand against it. It was smooth, perfectly silky. Every piece of wood furniture seemed to be carved by hand, the hand I only assumed was Muriel’s.

Sat in front of the hearth, the man seemed to curl into himself, only looking at me through awkward side glances. I smiled at him as Asra introduced me. Over his shoulders was a cloak that he pulled to himself as we entered and a gush of winter wind followed us.

“Muriel, this MC, my friend from the shop I told you of.”

Still, he made no move to introduce himself but acknowledged my existence with a sharp nod. Asra motioned for me to sit on the furs close to Muriel’s feet. Before I did, I looked to the man for any hesitance, but his face remained the same--Placid, though a bit anxious. I sat and watched the fire Asra himself got comfortable on my other side.

The room fell into silence. My hands twirled the beads on my bracelet anxiously. Would no one say anything? When I looked up, across the room a black fur moved. Gasping, I watched as a wolf’s head appeared from the mass. With grace, the wolf stood, yellow eyes staring into mine.

“You must be the wolf, Asra mentioned earlier,” I said, holding out a hand for the animal to sniff. “I am MC.”

“Her name is Inanna,” A stranger’s voice said.

Ah, yes, that was the name, I thought. A moment later I looked back at Muriel, surprised that it was his voice that spoke. It was soft, in a whisper-like way but gravelly, too. Nodding shyly, I looked back at Inanna, smiling. “Did you name her, Muriel?”

“No, she told me her name.”

Asra interjected, “She is Muriel’s familiar.”

“Ah,” I said as I watched Inanna sniff my hand and then walk around to the other side of her companion to lay. “Inanna is a name of a goddess that lives further south from Helene.”

Muriel’s eyes meet mine for a moment, and he looked as if he was pondering something. Still, he said nothing as his eyes looked over to Asra and then back down to his hands. Never before had I noticed, but he was whittling a small figure. His hands were too big for me to see anything, but I could make out the attention he was paying to them. His eyebrows were knitted together in concentration and, by the small indention on his face, he was biting the inside of his cheek.

It had become quiet again, and the four of us stayed in it. Somehow, it had become less uncomfortable and more understanding. Muriel did not seem like a person who spoke much but conveyed enough with his face. When I had started to settle more comfortably into the silence, listening to the fire crackle, the magician to my side spoke.

“MC,” Asra yawned as he laid back into the furs. Already his eyes were starting to droop. “Do you play?”

His head nodded over to a mandolin leaning against the wall. It was carved with dark cypress wood and on the body were intricate golden swirls painted. I was mesmerized for a moment.

“MC?” Asra said again.

“Yes, I do. I have not played in some time, though.”

Getting up with a grunt, Asra retrieved the instrument from the wall. He put it into my lap before settling back down as he was again. The wood was smooth, fresh from the shop I was sure. Muriel watched from the corner of his eyes as I positioned myself with the instrument on my lap and moved over to give me room. I tuned the instrument as I addressed the magician, “Asra, are you sure? I do not remember some notes, so it--”

Asra put a hand on mine. “You will play fine. I saw the one in your shop the other day and thought I would try learning it myself. Break it in for me?”

Annoyance tugged at the corners of my mind, and I thought of returning his request with a smart jab, but none came to mind. Sighing, I readied my fingers on the strings. A song came from the strings I played, something that must have been sitting in the back of my mind. To myself I sounded fine, my fingers remembered most of the notes and the strings corrected me when out of turn. Only once, when I had plucked the wrong note, the whole song sounded off, but when I looked to my audience for displeasure they waited in silence for me to continue.

The time I had played, which it seemed for such a short amount for how long I really did play, was lost. Asra had said I played for an hour, so entranced that I could not be stopped. When my fingers did cease their movements, the magician laid his head against my thigh, humming the tune I must have been playing before. Muriel, on the other hand, seemed indifferent, though looked at me momentarily when the music stopped for good.

I put the mandolin along Asra’s stomach, and he whined that the music had stopped. He tried to put it back in my hands, but I refused, pushing the mandolin away. “I will play no more,” I said softly. “My hands are tired.”

“...You play well,” Muriel mumbled as the magician slid the instrument from us.

“She does!” Asra exclaimed through a yawn, stretching like a cat. His arms raised above his head and he arched his back off the furs. “A magician and musician. I believe you covered all the most important ‘m’s.”

Laughter carried off in the air, mine and Asra’s, while Muriel made a snort through his nose. Then, like a flame blown out, we returned to our comfortable silence. Asra slept for the rest of our stay there while Muriel and I shared a few words as his hands whittled.

-- I was watching Muriel feed his chicken, my fingers running through Inanna’s fur as he did when Asra appeared from the hut. He looked pleased that Muriel and I were getting along. For the most part, I believed we were. We hadn’t exchanged more words than I could count on both my hands, but he responded to the few I did say with grunts and nods. It was a start.

When the sun had started to drop behind the trees, Muriel packed up the food for the chickens and then started for the woods wordlessly. The woods were dark, but, in the very far distance, I could see the blue light of magic or spirits. We had something similar back home. I looked to Asra for answers, but he only called after him.

“I will be walking MC home, Muriel.”

He only threw back a half-hearted wave of goodbye.

“It was a pleasure, Muriel! I hope to see you again,” I called out as well.

Muriel looked over his shoulder for a moment before disappearing into the trees.

The walk back seemed shorter than the walk to the hut. Asra did not take his time showing me all the flowers or pointing out any of the birds as it got harder to see through the dim light coming through the branches of the trees. I held onto his arm as we walked, which he had offered me after my second time tripping on a branch. He felt warm against the cold winds that blew harsher, showing that, soon, a storm would rise. Nothing new to Vesuvia, I had learned in the past few months. As we left the woods, it became brighter, city lights appeared as darkness finally took over the sky, but I did not let go of Asra’s arm. The way I held onto him wasn’t intentional, as I was too distracted by the lights and people to really let go. Asra seemed not to mind and leaned into my side as we walked. I hadn’t noticed he’d done that until we reached the shop door.

I broke my release on him as I went to unlock the door, and he finally moved away from me. When the lock clicked and I stepped inside, Asra stayed on the steps, looking up at me with such hesitation. With a snap of my fingers, the lantern hanging on the door lit, and Asra’s face became clearer. A blush was on his cheeks with purple eyes still staring at me, expectantly.

“Would you like to come in for a bit?” I had asked, thinking he was waiting for me to let him in. “To warm-up before leaving.”

Asra shook his head. “No, I must be returning. I--I have something to ask you, first, MC.”

My heart jumped with anxiety and excitement. A thousand possibilities came through my mind in a revolving door. In the seconds I waited for him to say something, the weight between good and absolutely horrible had nothing in the middle. Trying to egg on an answer from his silence, I nodded and waited for him to say something. When he didn’t I asked him to continue.

Asra looked to the ground, before meeting my eyes again. His starry eyes are so determined and focused. “The masquerade is in a month, do you know of it?” Of course, I did, it had been everything, anyone I came across talked about. Essentially a big birthday party to boost the ego of the horrid Count Lucio, but, over the past ten years, had turned into a tradition. Masks, games, music--Everything that made up a party, and all of Vesuvia was invited.

I told Asra I did, and he continued on. “Would you be my partner at the masquerade this year?”

My breath left me all at once, and I stared at him for what felt like hours. He said my name again, eyes pouring into mine as he waited for the answer. I blubbered out some sort of response at first. Confusion plastered across Asra’s face.

“Ahem,” I regain my composure, standing straight. “Yes. I would love to.”

A grin grew across his face and his eyes lit up. “Fantastic. I was nervous to ask you. I will bid you goodnight now.”

He started down the steps before stopping, turning to me quickly as I started to shut the door. “Oh, MC--”

“Yes?”

“I will be leaving for a few weeks tomorrow, so please do not be worried if you do not see me.”

My mind wondered for a moment before asking, “Where will you go?” I didn’t know why my voice had become so soft.

“Nopal, it’s a bit north of the city,” Asra pointed west despite saying the near opposite. I noted the wanderlust in his eyes and admired him for it.

I found myself stepping out from inside to stand on the landing to put my hands on Asra’s shoulders. Leaning over, I placed a kiss on his cheek. “May your journey be safe, Asra.”

His skin was soft under my lips and I heard his breath stop for a moment. When I pulled back his face was flushed, cheeks, ears, and neck all red. My face felt hot, too, despite how used to the affection I was. In Helene, it was common to kiss people close to you before their long journey. Fear suddenly rose in my chest, perhaps I was not as close to Asra as I had thought, and overstepped my bounds.

“Goodnight,” I said quickly before rushing inside, slamming the door shut behind me.

In the shop I grabbed my chest where my heart was in hopes to calm its pounding, but alas it did not work. Gulping back the anxiety bubbling up my throat, I held my shawl closer around my shoulders then bolted upstairs.

My room felt cold and empty compared to Muriel’s hut, and, for a second, I longed to be there with them. Perhaps if my knowledge and closeness to them were better. Gods, frustration burned in my chest at the thought of kissing someone who I had realized in a few seconds I was not at all that close to.

Despite my temporary hatred for myself, I still took my time to peek out the window before retiring to bed. Asra stood below, looking up at my window with an untelling glint in his eyes. When his gaze reached mine, it was not I who ran this time, but him. He smiled as he did so, yelling something that was muffled by the window glass. I would have called out to him, to have him repeat what he said, but he was gone by the time the thought passed.

[lorei-writes]

Panic Magic

Asra x fem!Apprentice Fluff // Comfort

Well, I think that slapping “Anna” as a name on the MC ended up with turning them into an OC. OH WELL.

Content Warnings: anxiety, arachnophobia, spider

Worry boiling low in his stomach, Asra strode towards her, soon having her nestled within his arms. “Is it the headache?” he asked, his magic already washing over her in soft waves, his fingers brushing against her temple – Anna clung to him. “No,” she forced out of herself. “Wall.” As per her instruction, Asra let his eyes lift from her, the tension in his shoulders decreasing by a fraction. His eyebrows raised – and there it was, a spider the size of a crow sitting on the wall opposite of them, hairy abdomen swaying as it lifted its legs impatiently.

The air was misty on that day, clouds seemingly having opted to lower themselves to the very ground, purple sunset spilling over the uneven puffs. His elbow resting over the counter, Asra shifted over the stool again, one hand supporting his head while the other flipped the pages of the book, neat rows of numbers written in black ink stretching wide over the plains of paper, occasional strings of red pricking his eyes. Magic, they said, magic was hard to comprehend – yet what was he supposed to say of finances? Were they not even worse than some of the various rituals and spells? Somewhat annoyed, and most definitely bored, he let his gaze skim over yet another position, a flick of his finger sending the beads of the abacus into their rightful places. Perhaps there was no error to begin with and his work was but a futile effort? Perhaps he had already overlooked something? His brows furrowed, he lowered his head, insistent on finishing the chore sooner rather than later…

His blood froze, air catching in his lungs mid-breath, a scream he had heard in the worst of his nightmares materialising upstairs. Without even thinking, he shot up, the stool falling over as the magician sprinted towards the stairs, his feet skipping every second step, the silence prompting his heart to beat faster. “Anushka?!” he called instantly, his gaze sweeping over the – perfectly ordinary – room. Taken off guard, he looked again, his lover sitting curled up in their bed, a pillow clutched in front of her chest, her face pressed against the cushion. Worry boiling low in his stomach, Asra strode towards her, soon having her nestled within his arms. “Is it the headache?” he asked, his magic already washing over her in soft waves, his fingers brushing against her temple – Anna clung to him. “No,” she forced out of herself. “Wall.” As per her instruction, Asra let his eyes lift from her, the tension in his shoulders decreasing by a fraction. His eyebrows raised – and there it was, a spider the size of a crow sitting on the wall opposite of them, hairy abdomen swaying as it lifted its legs impatiently. Her magic erupted around them, Anna taking a quick glance at the abomination. She shrieked, her entire form seemingly attempting to shrink as she curled down further, her fingers grasping onto his shirt. “It’s huge!” she stated, the creature growing to a size of a cat.

Perhaps its hearing improved along with the increase in size, perhaps it was a foul beast – whichever it was, it dashed to the ceiling, as if commanded by her voice, leaving a trail of web behind. Her breathing growing frantic, she felt her throat tightening, her shoulders trembling… Asra raised his hand, thus stopping the monster mid-leap. Slowly, he returned it to its original location, his arm still extended as to ensure it would not break free. “Anushka, look at me,” he asked. Somewhat reluctantly, Anna dared peak up, her eyes inevitably venturing towards the spider – and yet, before she managed to steal a glance at it, he leaned down, his nose rubbing against her cheek prompting her to turn back towards him. Her palm pressed against his chest, she obliged, her teeth biting into the inside of her cheek being the only sign of her anxiety. “I need you to calm down. Breath with me.” “How can I calm down with this thing –” she cut off sharply, Asra stopping her from looking at the wall. “It will be easier if you can undo the spell yourself.” “The spell?” Anna echoed, confusion evident over her face. “It gave you a scare, didn’t it?” he asked, his thumb brushing against her shoulder in soothing circles. “Your magic surged when you saw it. You probably grew it by accident… Deep breaths, in and out,” he changed the topic swiftly, his lover resting her forehead against his collarbone.

A moment had passed, Asra glaring at the spider, then struggling against the restrain imposed over it. Her head rising, he looked at her, her face glowing red. “I… I just need to shrink it back down? What if it runs again? I may panic and…” “I won’t let it move an inch,” the magician assured, Anna nodding in reply. Her eyes closing, she let her back straighten. “It’s just a normal spider,” she stated, images of smaller cousin of the monster flashing through her mind. “Think only about this spider,” he suggested, concerned with what sudden conjuring of many little creatures could cause. “It’s just a normal spider. Small enough to fit in a teacup.”

Gradually, the spider shrunk down, until it reverted to its original size, a medium black dot sitting at their wall. Anna opened her eyes, Asra smiling at her reassuringly. “Did it work?” she asked. “Perfectly,” he stated, his shoulder beginning to sting. “I’ll be back in a moment.” The spider still held in place, the magician untangled himself from his lover and walked up to the wall, soon scooping the insect into his palm, all to throw it out the window a moment later. Her eyes  following him, he stepped into their tiny kitchen, a bucket filling with water for him to scrub his hands.

The bed dipped as he re-entered it, Anna seeking his touch for comfort, the tips of her ears still painted red. “You did really well.” “I panicked because I saw a spider, accidentally grew it, and had it attack me,” she grumbled. “And you shrunk it back down,” he laughed against her hair, her arms locking behind his waist as she made herself comfortable. The books could wait another day, Asra reckoned, Anna listening to his heartbeat intently.

––

Bonus:

Later, that same night.

Anna: turns from side to side Asra: Do you want to sleep on my side* of the bed today? Anna: nods eagerly

*- his side of the bed is further away from where the spider was