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toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account · 3 years

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Whumptober No. 3: Sticks and Stones May Break My Bones But...

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Summary: Nothing could’ve prepared Geralt for Jaskier being brought to Kaer Morhen, nor for the sight of the bandages on his injured hands. Despite what happened on that mountain, Geralt wants to know who did this - who took away something so integral to the core of Julian Alfred Pankratz. But he doesn’t get the answer he thought he would.

Words: 2k

A/N: DAY THREE LET’S GOOO! And after two and a half months, I’ve finally gotten another witcher fic out! It feels good! I missed writing for this fandom so much (and it’ll help me ease back into Spider’s Thread), and this was SUCH a fun prompt fill for today. This was inspired by some of That Jaskier Content from the latest s2 trailer, and it’s... implications about the state of his hands. I hope you enjoy!

[CW: Hurt/No Comfort, Torture Aftermath, Hand Injury]

Nothing could have prepared Geralt for this.

No, there was nothing in this world - not even a miracle - that could’ve prepared Geralt for the moment he sensed a portal - one of Yen’s portals - outside the keep.

For the moment he ran out to a balcony and saw her there, having somehow - despite everything he believed, everything he thought he knew for certain - having survived the Battle of Sodden Hill; for the moment he’d lay eyes on a very much alive Yennefer… with a bard’s arm drawn over her shoulder to support him.

His hair was longer now, down to his jaw, and a burgundy leather jacket - adorned with ribs and folds just like that red doublet he wore as he looked down at him on that mountain, heart shattered - lay in tatters on him, bandaged hands peeking out of it’s sleeves…

He didn’t look the same - Gods knew he didn’t look the same - but Geralt still recognized Jaskier.

He was shuffled into one of the many, many spare rooms almost immediately, and Geralt tried talking to Yennefer. Of course, she’d been tense with him, but that was alright. At least she was alive to be tense with him. He’d take that over a particular alternative any day.

Speaking of tense...

The keep had never felt so cold as right now, when Geralt of Rivia stood in the doorway of Jaskier’s impromptu room. Here, the bard sat in an old chair, in front of a desk he did not look like he’d use to write on anytime soon. No, he looked at the wood slab despondently, not even seeming to notice Geralt.

So, he spoke up, speaking to Jaskier, his companion of twenty years, for the first time since that mountain.

“Jaskier… you’re here.”

Jaskier didn’t look at him, but he did speak.

“Wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know where else to go, and even if I did, Yennefer insisted - didn’t think I’d be safe anywhere else. Can you believe that? Yennefer of Vengerberg has a soft spot for me. The end of days may very well be upon us.”

His voice was hoarse. Geralt knew it must have been from screaming. His eyes drew down to Jaskier’s hands, where patches of horrendous blue and gods-damned purple peeked out from slivers of space between the bandages that showed his open skin.

“Your hands…”

“Oh, these old things?” Jaskier looked down at them, “Well, Yenny did her best, but they still hurt like a bitch to play with. I won’t bestow new ballads on the world for a while yet. Sorry if you expected me to sing your praises…”

But his tone made it clear that he wouldn’t do that even if his hands were as good as they were that day in Posada, or in Cintra, or on that mountain…

Geralt pursed his lips, trying to hold back his question. He didn’t deserve to know, he knew that, but he had to…

“...Who did this to you?” he spat out.

Jaskier lifted his gaze to meet the Witcher’s, and he laughed. It wasn’t like before - like the sunrise in the spring, like the bloom of buttercups, like love and joy and all the things he came to equate with Jaskier’s laughter, however unconscious, unadmitted these comparisons were. No, it was an empty, sardonic, quietly angry thing.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“And for what?” he asked, “So you can tear some fucker to shreds for laying a hand on me? Because you think I’m still your naive companion that would swoon at the thought of you exacting revenge on him for my sake? So you can make some grand gesture of brutality?”

“I’m not the one of us enamored with grand gestures.”

Jaskier tilted his head back and huffed. The shift in his movement made his hair move a bit, and Geralt realized he missed that little swoop - the little… floof, even - of hair that went down his forehead before, when his hair had been shorter.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said “us” about me and you.” Jaskier remarked, “Twenty years, and you acknowledge that I was something to you. Not sure what, but something.”

“You were…”

Jaskier’s eyes widened as if he remembered something, “Oh! Right! I remember - a shitshoveler. The catalyst for all your plights, something life would bless you by taking off your hands.”

Guilt sliced into Geralt like a kikimora’s claws.

“Looks like life heard “taking” and “hands” and went straight to me…” Jaskier huffed with the ghost of amusement with himself, looking down at his hands.

“Of course you can still joke.”

Jaskier shrugged, “Not much else to do. They took my lute, and my ability to play it, but they haven’t taken my wit.”

He crossed his legs.

“The funny thing is…” he said, staring down at the cracks in the table in front of him, “There was a little bit there where, if you’d apologized, I would’ve forgiven you. But… there wasn’t a trace of you to speak of after that hunt. Nowhere I went. Not that I went looking.”

“I didn’t have time to look for you, either.” Geralt said, “I was with Ciri.”

Jaskier snapped his gaze up.

“Oh, come now, Witcher.” he said with venom Geralt only ever knew from bigoted villagers that Jaskier had tried to change the minds of with his songs before, “Does your prolonged lifespan render you timeblind, or has your head been so far up your ass for so long that you can’t even properly tell time anymore?”

“I-”

“Two years, Geralt.” he said, “A blink of an eye for you, maybe, but that’s how long it was between that damned dragon hunt and the fall of Cintra. Two years you could have found me, before Cintra fell, before-”

He snapped his jaw shut.

“Before who?”

“No, Geralt!” he snapped, slamming his hands on the table to help him stand up. It seemed that his anger stopped him from realizing how bad that would hurt, and he hissed through gritted teeth. Geralt tried to step forward, but it was like the ground between them was covered in hot coals, and Geralt’s feet couldn’t have been more bare.

Once the pain seemed to quell, Jaskier’s eyes opened, and he glowered at the Witcher.

“You don’t get to know. You don’t get to make that bastard beg for mercy and act like that fixes anything - as if it does anything but conflate your ego that is so, so massive despite how much you hate yourself. You don’t get to take revenge on my behalf. You don’t get to act like this,” he held up his hands, “is anything compared to what you did to my heart.”

“I’m sorry-”

“And you DON’T GET TO SAY THAT NOW.” he screamed, killing Geralt’s words before it could leave his lips.

Geralt saw tears in his eyes as he huffed shaky breaths.

“You don’t get to say it like some off-hand statement, only brought up since it’s relevant.” he said with a wavering voice, “You don’t get to only say it now that I’m here, fallen right in your lap because Gods knew where else Yennefer could take me. And you don’t get to say it like it means anything now.”

“Now?”

Jaskier lowered his gaze.

“...I sort of figured you were embarrassed. That you were too scared to get your head out of your ass, like you are with a lot of things, but once you did, I would’ve…”

He sighed.

“But I heard you went to Cintra. Heard you went to claim your child-surprise.”

“What does Cirilla have to do with this?” he asked.

“Who do you think he asked about with each bone he broke?” Jaskier asked, snapping his gaze back to Geralt, “You? If it were just you, I would’ve…”

He sighed.

“That isn’t the point. When I heard that after twelve years of running from your claim, you hauled your arse to Cintra to protect her, I realized that you were always capable of going back to unfinished business, to scorned places of the past - you could always do it, if it was for the sake of something important enough to you.”

Jaskier lowered his gaze again, smiling sadly - smiling bitterly. It was an odd thing, a bitter smile, but Jaskier, like a fine doublet, wore it well.

“I just wasn’t.” he said, “I’m not your destiny, or your djinn-bound soulmate. I was just a bard.”

My bard. Geralt wanted so badly to say.

“What could I have said?”

Jaskier’s lower lip quivered as he looked at the Witcher near-dumbfounded, as if his incredulousness were a dagger that cut him deep. He leaned back against the table.

“You tell me.” he shrugged, “For those two years, I was still stupid enough that anything would have worked. Really, I wished some of my eloquence rubbed off on you, and I could’ve gotten a plea that, in a spur of irony, I was one of the few blessings life ever granted you, but anything that sounded remotely like an apology would have worked.”

He put his hands on his hips. Geralt could tell how hesitant he was.

“...At least, it would have made me think I was worth an apology in your eyes, and I was worth all the work it could have taken, tracking me down to say it.”

He rubbed a patch of cloth on his trousers with his thumb. Geralt didn’t miss how the corner of his lip twitched.

“At least, I could’ve known that what you said really was just a product of the heat of the moment, sprung forth by a misplaced attempt at levity, and there was no truth to it. I was so desperate that I would have taken anything if it meant I’d stop missing you.”

“You obviously stopped missing me eventually.”

Jaskier threw his head back again, “Wrong again, Geralt.”

He stood up straight again and walked across the floor, which, to Geralt, was still littered with hot coals he couldn’t dare step over.

“Do you really think that the venom in your words - the spit from your lips - the fury in your eyes could clear you from my mind? From my heart?” he walked right up to Geralt, though the space between them felt like it was pushing the Witcher away from Jaskier like a magnet.

“Do you really think that anything but the Gods themselves could’ve made me stop missing you?”

Geralt couldn’t say anything. Hearing Jaskier’s words… it was like a vocal hex, like someone had sewn his very lips shut.

(Perhaps if he had done so himself before that day on the hunt, things wouldn’t have gone so bad…)

(No, no, he still would’ve found a way to ruin things. He was Geralt of Rivia, after all.)

Jaskier was only inches away from him now - a distance like something from a dream, after they’d been distant for so long… but even though this was the closest their bodies had ever been to one another, the Witcher knew that Jaskier’s mind - his heart - was as far away from Geralt as it could ever get.

Jaskier was the one to break eye contact - as if he was still terrified of giving the Witcher the chance to break anything - and he looked down to his feet.

“...If you want to know who broke my hands, Yennefer knows more than I.” he said, “She’s the one that found me, told me more of who he was. All I have is a name for a face.”

Geralt turned to leave. Jaskier grabbed his wrist.

The touch burned.

“But…”

Jaskier lifted his head and looked Geralt in the eye.

“...You want to know who did this to me? Who ruined me? Who broke me?”

Jaskier’s eyes bore into Geralt’s soul, the ice blue of his irises piercing him like shards.

“Go look back on that mountain.”

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #''who did this to you?''#fandom #fanfic #broken hands #torture #torture aftermath #hand injury #the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #my writing #mine

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scolopendress-tag · 3 years

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I said I'd make a post detailing my kid Asra working for Lucio theory in this post so here it is!

So Let's get STARDED.

So! To start off, how it began. We do know when Asra and Muriel were kids, Lucio came to them each seperately with a deal.

Essentially: work for me, or I'll hurt your friend.

This was the sentiment he repeated for both of them. So, not wanting the other to be harmed, they both agree - unaware of the other's deal.

For Muriel, it was playing heel/excecutioner at the coleseium. For Asra, it was doing... Well, we never know, aside from he worked under Lucio. But that's what we are here to discuss in any case.

Continued under the read more, for the sake of people's dashes.

Now presumably, if I got my timeline right, Asra at this time would've been around 12 or 13. We don't know much about how Asra was when he was younger, other than that he has certainly changed.

It's also worth noting that it's not amiss to say they were both also still homeless at the time, and the hut hadn't come into the play until after.

Asra was still living on the streets.

This all isn't overly important for any of my claims later, but perhaps someone else could make something of it. It does provide us with some framing for the situation as a whole, though.

Now onto Asra's time under Lucio. I don't know that we have any indication of how long it was, but presumably at least a year if not more.

We do also know that Lucio knew who Asra was. Both in that he knew Aisha and Salim had a kid, and that he knew Asra was said kid.

This is bring this up because we know Aisha and Salim were incredibly talented, and likely incredibly powerful. Lucio wouldn't settle for any run of the mill magician or alchemist for the work he needed. So he must've had some idea that Asra may take after that power as well.

To top it off, he also interacted and talked with the dock kids he also used, (two of which would actually later become palace guards,) and seeing as this is seemingly how he learned of Muriel, it's not off to think that this is also how he heard of Asra again to start. The kids knew of Asra's magic, and roughly where he was, and could've even continued talking about both Muriel and Asra to Lucio for unknown amounts of time.

So now Lucio knows that the kid of his two powerful practitioners of magic is not only still around, but taking after them as well.

If Muriel's intimidating size and physical power are what drew Lucio to him, why wouldn't Asra's considerable metaphysical power and talents draw Lucio in as well?

We know how much Lucio loves power, and that he has an interest in magic because of it, as mentioned in the main story. (no ss sorry... If you have one send so I can add. )

Plus, homeless kid in a vulnerable spot. Easy pickings.

That's what I think this whole thing was about, really. It's all power. Though Asra likely didn't have the full scope of power he does in the current game, he was probably still considerably talented, and was only getting better.

What Lucio specifically probably wanted from Asra then was either to be taught how to use that power, to use Asra for things that required it, and/or use his power for entertainment akin to how he used Muriel.

I think out of these however, using him for his power was most likely. Why? (And teaching him now, more on that further down)

(Sorry for bad quality lmao it's a small image. Also thanks to @8-bit-space for showing these to me like months ago. As you can see I can't stop thinking abt it)

These are screenshots from the old prologue. While they're not canon any more, there's reason to believe they still hold merit as to how Lucio feels about Asra.

Two things to me are major here. First is the "powerful potent magic," and how it's the "real deal," equating to a large part of how he views Asra yet again tying back to a heavy interest in his power. Now, you could argue this relates to using his powers in the palace during the plague, but the second point stands out even more to me.

"The one who broke him for me?"

What this implies to me is that Lucio could never quite get all the way through to Asra or control him when he was younger, and he's been dying to do so. He wanted Asra broken, presumably so that he'll become essentially a tool for him to use for his skill and not put up a fight- something Asra likely did as a child.

Because it seems that Lucio for the most part relied on control through fear when it came to Asra, threatening to hurt Muriel, lying to him about how he executed his parents, likely other things as well. But things seem to point to that never quite working like he had hoped.

This could allude to this as well. Though "impossible" is something Asra's been called a few times, namely also by Julian, there's no reason to assume Lucio wasn't also including his work with him as a kid in "always". Impossible to hate could be his draw to Asra for his power, his talent, his skills, the prospect of which I'm sure Lucio found practically mouthwatering. Impossible to love could be his stubbornness or reluctance to do what Lucio wants, always pushing against him or being hard to deal with, both as a kid and during the plague.

And lines like this, where he calls him a coward. I find it hard to relate this to the plague ritual as he was for the most part willingly helping with that, so it could be resenment for when Asra eventually ran off as a kid, unwilling to put up with him any longer, or his reluctance to do certain things for him then in general.

We know, and it has even been mentioned by a character within the canon, that Asra can be incredibly stubborn, to back that up. Plus, he could've been even harder to work with then both being a kid and as I mentioned earlier he has changed from how he was then, so he could've had more spunk to him or such.

This also easily means that what Lucio was trying to get Asra to do then was something Asra was quite obviously opposed to. Being used for his power is already degrading enough, but there could be more to it.

You'll notice in the post that was linked at the top (the reason I'm writing this) I mentioned pushing Asra to his physical limits and magical extremes. This could be one of the reasons for a push back.

If Lucio was having Asra do things for him involving magic, it's not out of pocket to assume he'd practically run him into the ground- I'm sure he really wouldve loved testing the limits of what Asra could REALLY do.

Wether it be huge expendure of power all at once, or tons of smaller things one after the other, it would absolutely take it's toll. We are shown a few times that using magic can exhaust someone, and I don't remember if this is shown in canon ever (tell me if so!) but pushing it even further could definitely lead to other things such as passing out, (Or nosebleeds, for the aesthetic,) alongside likely being incredibly painful and draining, both mentally and physically.

Basically, abusing his powers and the body that commanded them. It's also possible that the stubborness to work with Lucio could also be partially percieved because of this- Lucio taking Asra's literal physical inability to continue as defiance.

Another reason for push back from Asra would be making him do morally compromising things. This is a little more vague, but intimidation is a common headcanon I see for what Lucio made Asra do, and that could tie in here. Other things could be meddling in things and business he shouldn't, but again, it's a vague thing. Make of it what you will. Fucked up stuff all around.

[EDIT - TEACHING LUCIO]

(THANK YOU @tea-tye for showing me these, and credits to @hangedman-magician for the video they came from!!!!!!!)

...I cannot BELIEVE I forgot this, I KNEW I was missing something. Especially when I was fairly certain I remember Lucio being obsessed with the idea of magic. SO, MOVING ON,

There's not terribly much to pick apart here as it's rather direct- Asra saying he has in fact tried to teach Lucio magic. So in my eyes this solidifies that this was a component of Asra's time under Lucio. I still think my points about Lucio treatment (pushing Asra to his limits) stand, as well.

This can also tie in the stubborness mentioned as, well, can you imagine teaching Lucio? Asra backs this up by saying nothing he has ever said stuck with Lucio, and you know how Lucio gets when things don't go his way. He would've blamed his inability to learn on Asra, likely.

Looking to other quotes mentioned: the 'broke him' line still rings to me like he was trying to use Asra in other ways, and the 'coward' line could go either way from refusing to teach Lucio certain things, or refusing to do certain things for Lucio when he was merely being used. The "impossible" line could also go for others, as trying to teach someone like Lucio would've undoubtedly caused some head butting.

This is certainly really exciting and interesting to me as it gives a more complete picture on the exact situation at hand here. I still stay by my reasoning for Lucio simply using Asra as well on top of being taught because it seems highly likely that Lucio would've been too impatient to learn to do certain things himself, and like I said as well, I don't doubt he also just wanted to see what Asra was REALLY capable of. Something he could've saw as a tantalizing insight into the kind of power he could aquire of this kid would just... work with him.

NOW we have a MUCH clearer answer as to what exactly Asra was likely doing under Lucio, or at this point, almost certainly doing. It's a sad picture for Asra of course, but with this you can draw some interesting points as to how he could've been affected by this, as I'm sure it would've left some kind of imprint on him.

Sure it may not have been as traumatic as what Muriel went through, but when you look at it, it's hard to say it DIDN'T leave it's scars. If we consider all the points presented in this post truth we have:

A 12/13 yo homeless child, threatened with his friend's life to work for the Count that he knew was the one responsible for orphaning him and making him homeless in the first place.

Said child believing his parents are still alive, and as we see in Travel at Night, could very likely still be trying to find them. In a situation like Asra's that glimmer of hope probably was a big deal in helping him push on. This may also be a reason he agreed on top of Muriel's safety.

While working under the count, he is told that his parents were executed, no doubt devastating. The manner in which this was mentioned is up for debate, and could affect exactly how it was taken. Options could be Lucio joking or bragging about it (treating it as trivial or an accomplishment), or using it to threaten Asra, (as in I killed your parents, I'll kill you too,) both would work when it comes to controlling by fear.

It is also mentioned that Lucio told him the reason for his parents execution is that they messed up his gold arm, so Asra also has the knowledge that his parents were killed over something so unbelievably trivial.

Being used as a source of power and nothing else, both for teaching and pure work/entertainment, all for the man who killed his parents, day after day.

Being pushed to physically painful and mentally draining limits, expending so much energy that he completely exhausts himself, day after day.

Likely taking all sorts of verbal abuse from Lucio, day after day.

Like mentioned earlier, it seems clear that Lucio wanted to break Asra, so some other form of trying to chip away at his psyche to make him more convenient for Lucio is likely as well.

Those points alone, to yet again a CHILD no less, seem more than enough to cause some traumatic impact, and depending on certain specifics of what exactly went on during that time, it could be worse. I may make a post looking into the long lasting effects of this on Asra, I may not. It would mostly be headcanon regardless. If you want to add your hc relating to this situation though, I'll gladly reblog it!

And now that we are closing out, it's time to revise my summary. So, without further ado, THIS is what I think was going on during this time.

Lucio knows of Asras existence and parentage.

Lucio learns Asra is around and that he's got power.

Lucio LOVES power, so he threatens Asra into working for him.

Lucio uses Asra for his power and to be taught how to use it for himself.

While using Asra for his knowledge and power, runs him into the ground by pushing his limits to physical and magical degrees, possibly even moral.

Asra pushes back against a lot of this, or is at least percieved to, frustrating Lucio.

Lucio does what he can to try and control Asra even more, primarily via fear, but can't seem to crack him.

Eventually it's too much, and Asra leaves. Likely when the plague hit like Muriel, but it's possible it could've been somewhat sooner. Lucio is PISSED, because he wanted that magical power all to himself.

Less related, I can see Lucio trying to brush it off and pretending to be fine with it, excuse being "he was too difficult to work with, anyways," or something.

...And then... years later, as far as Lucio sees it, Asra comes crawling back- and he's tamed down to a degree! He's actually working with him. Lucio might not know what or who did it, but Asra is finally broke for him, and I'm sure he was absolutely ecstatic to have that power back in his hands- and more than ever before.

Think of all of this as you would like!

At the end this is all still speculative, so definitely feel free to make your own points or say if you feel any different abt anything- expansions or counters on this theory/headcanon welcome!

And if you also have any other screenshots or info not here that could add to the theory or change the outlook of certain things definitely add them!!! I feel like I'm missing stuff for sure, and my memory has probably muddled some things (hopefully I didn't get anything wrong, though.)

And @asrascherry thanks for the offer in helping word my hcs also! I forgot to say that. This one is just so long I wouldve felt bad bringing it all to you 😔 it's probably still messy as a result but I tried lmao (worried it's repetitive or unclear 😬)

Uh yeah! That's mostly it for NOW.

+All the love to Asra for going through so much I'm so sorry bb,,

Thanks for reading!

#asra #the arcana #the arcana game #asra alnazar #asra the arcana

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thechangeling · 3 years

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But you like her better: Part 1

This fic features Kit's potential new girlfriend hinted at in a letter from Tessa to Magnus in CC's newsletter. A bunch of people in the fandom built her from the ground up @littlx-songbxrd @foxglove-airmid @the-wckd-powers @adoravel-fenomeno and @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood to name a few, and gave her a personality, name and backround. Their name is Marí.

Kit uses he/they pronouns in this fic and Marí uses she/they.

Cw: Disassociation (or at least how I experience it idk it might not be the same for everyone), negative self talk, self injurious stims, and bad coping mechanisms.

Title is from Heather by Conan Gray.

Marìa. Marí as she preferred to be called, was a bubbly kind soul with a wide inviting smile and a melodic voice.

Even Ty could admit that they were quite beautiful, despite not seeing women (or in Marí's case anyone who was particularly alienated with womanhood,) in a romantic or sexual light. It took him awhile to realize he was gay, but when he did it just seemed so obvious. He had gone through a minor phase of experimentation at the scholomance when he was younger but it hadn't lasted long.

Still Marí was stunning. And perhaps what made her even more stunning was her kindness and generosity. Ty had met her on the beach in LA while she and her parents were visiting the LA institute for a downworlder/shadowhunter summit being held by Helen, Aline, Mark and Cristina, similar to the one Julian held in 2012.

Ty noticed that Tessa and Jem were present, but Kit was not. He was not exactly sure how that should make him feel. So Ty elected to push the pain in his chest further down. To shove all if his unresolved feelings and worries and questions about Kit Herondale back into the metaphorical box and move on.

So he had gone outside to walk on the beach to distract himself when he found Marí sitting on the sand and crying.

Apparently according to them, they had come across a few dead moon jellyfish, or Aurelia aurita as was more scientifically accurate, that had washed up on the beach.

Ty remembered being moved by how she had such compassion for another living creature who wasn't even a person. It was rare. Ty had helped her bury them. She seemed wary and a little hostile around him at first, noticing his runes. She was clutching her body tightly. Ty noticed her anxiety and told her how he was also a lover of aquatic life and he found marine biology fascinating. This had prompted her to instantly change demeanor and become very excited and start jumping up and down and waving her hands before she told him that she was studying marine biology at university in Devon.

The mention of Devon should gave promoted Ty to wonder if Marí knew Kit but he was still putting up mental blocks to protect himself from the Kit situation so it hadn't crossed Ty's mind.

They had sat on the beach and talked for hours. Marí told him their name and that they used she/they pronouns. They also told Ty that they were from Devon, but their family was from Loiza, a city on the Northeastern coast of Puerto Rico. And also that they were all werewolves who pretty much hated shadowhunters but he seemed ok because he liked jellyfish. They mentioned that marine biology was one of their special interests and that they were autistic and had ADHD.

It would have been the perfect opportunity to tell Marí about him also being autistic but Ty being guarded and asocial, decided not to and told her as little as possible. He supposed he had some trust issues after everything. He mentioned his name, that he was attending the scholomance, and a few basic facts about his family. He also talked about his friend Alyssa Reyes.

Alyssa or Ali as he called her, was a werewolf with Maia's pack in New York. She was assigned as a liaison to the scholomance to act as a bridge between the werewolves and future centurions. And BOY had she complained about it. Alyssa was basically the president of the fuck shadowhunters club and she was autistic and had ADHD. She and Marí would have gotten along quite well.

Marí overall did most of the talking but she didn't seem to mind. On the contrary.

Ty had no idea that by that point they were already dating Kit.

When Kit returned with apologetic smiles and a new found charisma and confidence, he also brought her. And she was so happy to see Ty again that he felt so guilty for feeling torn up inside.

Ty couldn't hate Marí. Not even if he tried. They hadn't done anything wrong and neither had Kit. So Ty would just have to settle for hating himself for being angry over nothing.

Kit and Ty weren't really talking. Sure they had exchanged some words together when basically forced to, but Kit was being standoffish and Ty was still feeling a little annoyed. But mostly hurt. Ty had heard that Kit was using he/they pronouns and now identified as genderfluid. He had so many questions for Kit but Ty knew he couldn't ask. At least not right now.

Currently Ty was watching Kit and Marí talking. Kit was in the middle of telling her what looked to be a funny story based on the way she was laughing. Kit pushed a lock of dark curly hair back behind her ear and smiled.

Ty felt queasy. He bit his lip and averted his gaze trying to shake off the horrible feeling. Everytime he saw them together his chest felt like it was being squeezed by a juicer. Like he was being crushed and torn up on the inside and it was his fault. Just like it was his fault that Kit left. Or maybe that wasn't true. Maybe it was just inevitable but that didn't make it any easier.

Ty didn't have the right to be jealous or upset. He had no claim over Kit. He was being ridiculous he told himself as he attempted to shove all of these dark feelings into the box.

But this time it wasn't working.

"Alright you look like you're about to snap crackle and pop," Ty heard a voice say beside him. "What gives Sherlock?"

Ty looked up to see Alyssa Reyes standing next to him. When they had all congregated together in the LA institute and Kit had brought Marí and his friend Janessa back with them. Ty had decided to bring his lucky charm and close friend with him.

When Alyssa first came to the scholomance things were quite rough. But they had connected, first on the basis of being autistic and then through other things. Ali also had a love of mysteries and the two of them together were quite the team. The two of them had become incredibly close. Anush called her Irene because she was the only one who could outsmart Ty.

Speaking of Anush..

He was currently still back at the scholomance. They had both decided it was best for him to stay behind so they could spend some time apart. They had recently broken up after Ty finally realized he wasn't in a good place emotionally to date anyone. Ty had been forced to put Livvy's spirit to rest permanently when it started to have an affect on the mortal world negativity. It had been Livvy herself who had begged Ty to save the world at her expense.

That had been about a month ago and Ty was still relatively numb. He had a feeling it would begin to hurt eventually. Just not yet.

"Hey did you hear me?" Alyssa raised her voice. "What's wrong?" Ty refocused on his friend.

She was wearing her costume for the Halloween party they were all attending tonight. Kit, Ty, Dru, Alyssa, Marí, Jaime, Janessa and Thaís. It was Dru herself who had suggested they need a break from essentially preparing themselves for what was probably going to be another war. So they were headed to a vampire hosted party at a club in downtown LA. Alyssa had been sure to grab earplugs for Ty and herself which he was grateful for.

Alyssa was dressed as Aeryn Sun from Farscape, one of the many autistic coded characters from scifi that she was obsessed with. She was wearing a long black leather trench coat with black leather pants and a black tank top. Her dark brown hair was pulled back onto a long braid traveling down to her lower back. She even had leather boots and a fake blaster gun holstered at her thigh to complete the look.

And Ty of course, was dressed as Sherlock.

Ty shook his head at her. "Nothing Ali I'm fine."

Alyssa glowered at him. "Bullshit you're fine. I thought we agreed never to lie to each other?"

Ty sighed, gazing back at Kit and Marí, still smiling at each other. Alyssa followed his gaze.

"Oh you're jealous aren't you!" She declared matter of factly. Ty instantly shushed her.

"Oh relax they can't hear us, she muttered. We're too far away." She twirled her long braid and stimmed with the ends of it. "You know if you plan on taking your anger out on that lovely girl, a member of our COMMUNITY no less, who has done absolutely nothing wrong, then I'm like legally required to throw hands," she said with a smile.

Ty didn't smile back. "I wouldn't," he murmered, looking down. He had been flicking his fingers lazily at his sides, but now Ty found that wasn't good enough. He dug his fingernails into his right palm.

Alyssa looked concerned. "Hey I was just kidding," she said softly. She took his hand that had been creating little half-moon red divots on his skin and carefully threaded his fingers through her own.

Ali squeezed Ty's hand. "You know I'm on your side no matter what." He squeezed back.

Ty looked at the couple again. Emotions swirled all around his heart like little ribbons grazing against the sides. It wasn't just jealousy neccessary and Ty was a little shocked to find that he wasn't angry anymore. He was just...what?

Sad?

Sad didn't even begin to feel like it covered it. He felt so lost. And alone. And.... He felt himself starting to drift away, separating from himself. Ty could hear the fuzzy far away echo of someone trying to speak to him, but he couldn't make out the words. They were getting further and further away.

Everything was blurry and out of focus.

"Ty!" He heard a voice shout. With a jolt he was snapped back into his body. He turned to face Alyssa who was staring at him, looking obviously alarmed.

But the worst part was that everyone else was staring at him too. Including Kit. They looked shocked, but also something else that Ty couldn't quite pinpoint. There was an air of desperation to their voice when they asked,

"Are you ok?"

Was Ty ok?

It was such a funny question coming from Kit who hadn't spoken more than two words to him this whole time.

Kit who had left.

Ty didn't know what else to do except laugh. He burst laughing hysterically, almost falling from his position of where he was leaning against the wall. He desperately tried to gasp for air as he cackled.

Everyone was staring at him looking horrified. Dru pulled out her phone as if she was contemplating calling someone, then decided against it. Tears were starting to roll down Ty's cheeks as he kept laughing.

Alyssa grabbed his arm. "Alright, come with me," she ordered, dragging him to the side. Ty managed to stop laughing as she guided him firmly into the training room.

Ty's eyes were still blurry with tears, so he wiped them away. Alyssa was smiling at him softly, looking sympathetic. "It's gonna be ok Ty,: she cooed, taking his hand again. Alyssa began to rub slow soothing circles onto his palm.

"Ok, you wanna tell me what's going on now?" She asked gently. Ty sniffed and used his other hand to wipe away the rest of his tears.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted. "I don't know how to describe or explain it.

Alyssa nodded. "Well, try. You can use quotes or song lyrics if you want." Ty smiled. He was grateful that Ali understood.

Ty chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. "It feels like a tear in my heart. Like a part of me is missing and I just can't feel it," he quoted. Alyssa stared at him, pondering. She continued to stroke his hand.

"Do you think what you're missing is Kit?" She asked. "Do you miss him?"

Ty glared at Alyssa and snatched his hand back. "No," he said firmly. "I don't."

Ali rolled her eyes. "Jesus you're almost as bad at love as I am! It's like trying to open a rusted toolbox with a fork getting you to open up!" She snapped.

Ty bared his teeth under closed lips and glowered at her. "Well maybe I never asked for your help!"

"Well maybe you should calm down and recognize that I'm your friend and I'm worried about you!" She shouted back.

Guilt instantly washed over him, pricking his skin. Ty squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry Ali," he whispered.

He wished he could cry. Now more than ever Ty wished he could make himself cry. Over Livvy, over Kit. Over the coming battle. Over everything.

"Do you love them?" He heard her ask. There was no need to ask who she meant.

Ty opened his eyes. This was the thing he never acknowledged. Never said outloud. Never even let himself think it. Because it was terrifying. The acknowledgement of the truth.

The truth was that Ty would probably give his life just to see that adorable smile one more time. That he could tell you how many freckles Kit had because he had spent so many hours staring at Kit and counting them.

The truth was that when Kit held him, he felt closer to anyone then he ever had in his entire life. Ty had sat outside of Kit's door for hours, days even when they had first arrived because he had felt something, even then. Something pulling at him from the other side of that door like a magnet. He told himself it was just curiosity. A scientific curiosity.

It was the only thing that could logically explain Ty's obsession. It wasn't serious. It wasn't-

"I love him," Ty admitted shakily, breaking the silence. Even Alyssa looked a little suprised.

"I'm in love with Kit."

Before Ali could respond, Ty sensed movement by the training room door which they had forgotten to close. Ty instantly whipped around to see who it was, wondering frantically if they had overheard what Ty had said.

Standing in the door frame wearing her Mortica Addams costume for the party, complete with a jet black long wig was Marí.

And the look on their face suggested to Ty that they had heard every word.

I will try and get part 2 up as soon as I can! It will be from Marí's perspective.

The song Ty quotes is Can you hold me by NF.

Tag list: @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @arangiajoan @queenlilith43 @adoravel-fenomeno

#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #kit x ty #ty blackthorn #twp #kit herondale #marí the werewolf #we need to give her a last name #marí tag

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dangerouslcve · 3 years

Text

Drawn Together

Pairing: Julian Albert x reader

Warning: Mature Content. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Julian is trying to get over the feelings he had for you. . . You make it impossible after seeking him out this time.

- - -

It started out as innocent teasing until it changed into something entirely different. Something darker and you couldn’t stop what it was. . . You did not want to. Julian was like a drug; you had a taste and now you wanted more. It was both frustrating and intoxicating, you hated him because of the way he made you feel, and he hated you because in his mind you were stupid enough to be with someone who did not deserve you.

You both danced around each other, the fire growing bigger and hotter between you two the more time you spent avoiding him. He looked at you now as if he could devour you and he did. Every night when your boyfriend was out of town. It was horrible. You BOTH were horrible. He was with Caitlin and you were with your boyfriend Zane. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but it felt so right at the time. The things he said… The things he did when you were together… It had your legs shaking, even now. When you broke it off, the burn for him never died. It was always their eating at you… Until today.

When you finally entered the office after weeks of avoiding Julian, your heart was racing, and your hands were shaking. You saw him leaned back in his chair; his mouth set in a hard line as he stared out the window with a distant look. He never noticed you walking in until you spoke his name softly and his gaze snapped over to you, his eyes darkening by a fraction before he clenched his jaw.

“How are you?” you ask after a long moment and Julian snorts. “Awful. Thanks for asking sweetheart.” You winced. He smirked seeming pleased with himself when you winced, almost as if he were enjoying some private joke. Julian Albert was a selfish man it had to be said. Well, it was said. . . Many times, when you were pressed against a wall begging for more but if you were as selfish as he were, you would not be having the conversation at all. Julian watched with a guarded expression as you took long careful strides over to his desk. He tensed his eyes flashed with uncertainty as he continued to stand completely still. You clear your throat looking up at him under your lashes, he said nothing. “And how are you doing today?” he asked you finally.

“I’m-“ truthfully you were terrified, you did not know how he would react to what you had to tell him. He mentioned he wanted to get you pregnant but if you held everything a man said during sex to heart you would end up with false hope and unfulfilled desires. That is why this situation was ten times worse, he may have said that as an in the moment thing but the way he truly felt about becoming a father was still unknown. “I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry.” As you turn away his hand shoots out grabbing your wrist. The first contact in weeks and yet the spark was still there, it shot through you like a bullet and the fire in his eyes had returned.

He felt it too.

“No don’t,” he said firmly pulling you back to his desk making you nearly stumble. “We have not had any sort of contact with each other in weeks. Obviously, you came here because whatever you have to say is important.” He said his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he gets a faraway look in his eyes, the same look he always got when thinking. “Just give it to me straight. Rip the band-aid off the wound, you already hurt me I’m sure whatever you have to say now won’t be as bad.”

You swallow hard looking at him fully. Admiring the way his hair was always brushed back, the light stubble around his jaw and upper lip. The faint glint of hope in his blue eyes, his parted plump pink lips, and his beautiful dirty blonde hair. He cut his hair; you had just noticed that. He looked so handsome with short hair. You take a long deep breath before gripping his hand tighter.

“I’m pregnant.” You say looking him dead in the eye and you watch him freeze where he stood. His expression unreadable before he drops your hand turning away with a cold expression. “It’s your baby.”

“How could you be sure it is mine?” he questions trying his best to control the rage that was surrounding him. “It’s most likely Zane’s.” he snarls and you look at the ground. ‘Just tell him everything.’ You will yourself and you could feel his icy glare on you.

“Zane and I never- not after you and I-“ why was this so hard to say looking at the ground. It was better than staring up into that intimidating gaze. You look up and he had his arms crossed over his chest with an arched eyebrow. “I never had sex with Zane after you, he wanted to, but I always said I was tired. I never allowed him to touch me after we had sex. I was too scared to moan you name instead of his because you were all I could think about.” You finish explaining and he makes his way around the desk his mask slipping back into place as he looks at you.

“Are you-“

“- We aren’t together anymore if that is what you are wandering.” You tell him and he released a deep chuckle rolling his eyes. “I’m keeping the baby. I want the baby.” You blurt out watching his eyes widen in shock. “If I don’t, I will always wonder whether the baby had your eyes or mine, if they had your hair or mine, if they acted more like me or you.” You tell him and he slowly cups your face with his hands. “I would never forgive myself Julian-“

“- I would never ask you to do that. I want the baby as well. This is our baby, and we will be the best parents.” He reassures you before his lips brush against yours making your breath hitch. Everything was heightened and suddenly his lips were on yours. It was not a sweet and gentle kiss… No. This kiss was different.

Possessiveness and hunger.

He backs you up against the table his mouth claiming yours shoving all the paperwork off the desk as it falls to the floor in a thud. He lifts you up by your thighs placing you on the table roughly his lips trailing down to your neck making you gasp as he bites down on your collarbone. This is what Julian was good at, distracting you from what mattered. He did not want to continue the conversation about the baby or about how you felt because the only thing he knew was you were putting yourself on the line for him and that alone drove him wild. You wanted to go in depth about the situation, but you knew, and he knew that you both were gone the minute his lips touched yours. You should tell him to stop but you couldn’t - you didn’t want to. You were both going to burn together.

_______

You both pant holding onto each other as he came with one last thrust groaning into your neck. You saw stars in your vision, you could barely breathe, your legs shook, and your thoughts were clouded by the pleasure of your orgasm which had washed over you just seconds ago. Julian seemed quite pleased with himself after giving you a mind-blowing orgasm. He lifts his head up and rests it against your forehead his grip on your hips loosening and you relax coming down from your high in his grip as he pulled out and away tucking himself back in his trousers.

“I want you to move in with me.” He tells you through his heavy breaths before he lets out a low growl when he watched you bite your lip. “I want to raise this baby together.”

“What about Caitlin?”

“She knew. She is not stupid.” He breathes and you fix your dress as you get off the desk nearly collapsing making him smirk. “She didn’t know you were the one I was cheating on her with don’t worry.”

“Julian, she will know because I am pregnant. They all will.” Panic set in. “Oh god… Barry will know.” This was wrong. What they did was wrong. It was all so wrong; you knew that the moment you both had sex for the first time.

“Fucking Hell.” He mumbles taking his hands through his hair. “I just-“

“-This was a-“

“-Don’t you dare say it was a mistake Y/n. We both enjoyed our time together, we both wanted more.” He said and you felt the anger rising in your chest. How can he be so okay with this? This could and will ruin the friendships you have made working at star labs.

“You don’t get it Julian! That is the thing, you never will, I have just ruined the friendship I had with them all. Barry was like a brother to me; he was so close to Caitlin and now that he will know you have been fucking me while dating his other best friend? Do you have no brain? I shouldn’t have- Julian we can’t- I can’t-“ you felt your chest constrict and Julian’s arms wrapped around you protectively.

“Caitlin and I were never close. We went on a few dates, kissed a couple times but that was it. She will not be angry with you, Allen will most likely be surprised at the news. You overthink when it comes to these things, everything will be alright.” He explains and you pull away narrowing your eyes at him. “I will choose not to take offense to the having no brain comment. I have plenty but when I’m with you it seems all common sense is tossed out the nearest window.” What a lovely post sex talk this was turning out to be.

“Should I not think far into these things? I cheated on Zane, you practically cheated on Caitlin. I am now pregnant with your baby.” You snap and he tightens his grip on you, his heated eyes looking down at you.

“You don’t need to remind me Y/n.” he sneers his mask sliding back into place. “I am aware you are pregnant and as I said before Caitlin and I were hardly dating. You should really ask yourself if you have the no brains in this moment.” His tone was ice and you shove him away, but he was too quick he caught your wrists in his grip.

“You are so frustrating! Do you not care?” you say angrily and his face was becoming red as his anger began to build.

“Of course, I care L/n! I only told you more than six bloody times!” he says raising his voice letting go of your wrists before turning away. You clench your jaw shaking your head. “Listen to me Y/n, now is your chance to tell me how you truly feel.” He says turning around his features hard and unreadable.

“I already told-“

“I want the truth. Do you care for me enough to move in with me?” you scoff at his ridiculous question. Of course, you wanted to be with him, but it was not that simple. You would continue to feel guilt even after telling everyone.

“Of course, I do-“

“-Then move in with me-“

“- Julian It is not that simple –“

“- You are overthinking this far-“

“- I will feel guilty doing that to Caitlin-“

“- Stop. Interrupting me-“

“- You stop interrupting me!” you say, and he rolls his eyes to the back of his head letting out a low growl.

“Interrupt me. One. More. Time.” He threatens and you quickly become silently. Surprising the both of you for obeying his demand. He sighs pinching the bridge of his nose before leaning on his desk looking down. “I am sure Caitlin was seeing other people as well when we were going out. It was more of a test run to see if we would be good together, but I found you and I did not need anyone else. You were all I craved- Bloody hell- if you knew what you did to me coming in here today in that tight little dress with an innocent look on your face.” He says glancing at you. It wasn’t like he just fucked you into oblivion on his work desk. . . Of course you knew what you had did to him.

“I think I had an Idea, but that is beside the point.” You tell him and he laughs looking to his right avoiding your gaze. “My point is-“

“- I know what your point is-“

“- No, you don’t know what my point is.” You snap and he looks over at you standing up straight. “What if she says she is okay with it but really isn’t.”

“That would be her problem not ours.” He rolled his eyes growing bored of this argument that was clearly going nowhere. You click your tongue to the top of your mouth stopping yourself from rolling your eyes at him.

“Fine.” You say after a long beat of silence. His gaze snaps up to yours, confusion written across his face before he pales. “I will move in with you.” His eyes widen and his cheeks flush. “On one condition.”

“Anything my darling. Anything at all.”

“Get your attitude into check. Your mood swings are giving me whiplash.” You say and he chuckles before swooping down pressing his lips to yours feverishly. His hands sliding under your dress pulling you flush against his body.

“You can be my personal therapy.” He whispers against your lips as you gasp feeling a hard smack to your bottom.

“We just-“

“I know.”

“You are insatiable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

#julian albert x reader #julian albert imagine #julian albert #Tom Felton #tom felton imagine #tom felton x reader #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy imagine #julian albert smut

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twiistedgalaxies · 3 years

Text

Three Times Jaskier Didn’t Seem Quite Human

(And one time Geralt asked too many questions.)

“Jaskier isn’t human,” Yennefer stated bluntly, swishing a wine glass in her right hand.

Geralt blinked, “What?” This gave Yennefer pause. She knew that her on and off again lover was oblivious, but she hadn’t realized it was quite to this extent. Jaskier gave her a pained, pleading look from the other end of the table. She ignored him.

“You seriously haven’t noticed?” she continued with a huff.

“...No?” Geralt’s brows furrowed together in confusion. The nerve of these idiots. Yennefer had half a mind to just state the obvious, to keep these two from continuing to dance around the subject, possibly until the end of time.

But it was much more fun to gently direct Geralt to the answer and watch his bard squirm. Yennefer took a sip of her wine, mentally cursing her high alcohol tolerance, “You’ve been travelling with the man for decades,” Geralt’s face was blank, the puzzle pieces not fitting into place, “He hasn’t aged, Geralt.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he protested, though from the way his eyes shifted towards his companion he was clearly thinking it over. If they were not at such a high profile party Yennefer would have strangled him. He opened his mouth to say something else, but it was at that exact moment that Jaskier decided to pick up his lute and perform for the crowd - granted, it was what he had been invited to do, but Yennefer sent him a withering glare anyways. She was met with a cheeky wink. Oh if looks could kill.

“I could prove it to you, you know? A few well placed detection spells and-”

Geralt shook his head, “He’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

“You two are hopeless,” Yennefer sighed.

-@~*^*~@-

It had been after a particularly difficult hunt, when Jaskier had to dress his companion’s wounds for the umpteenth time. Geralt sat upon a stool in the center of their tiny room at the inn. He looked more irritated than usual as Jaskier gave him what was essentially a sponge bath around where a kikimore had stabbed his shoulder with one of it’s spindly arms. Jaskier winced, it was too close to important organs for comfort. Humming as he worked, Jaskier tried to stitch shut what he could and thoroughly bandage the rest. The wolf medallion on Geralt’s chest thrummed contentedly each time the bard’s delicate hands drew near.

“Where did you learn?” he asked suddenly, his gruff voice cutting through the peaceful quiet.

“Hm?” Jaskier hummed, ignoring the Witcher’s grunt of pain as he applied one of his many salves to his shoulder, “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, dear.”

“The salves, the stitching, all of it,” Jaskier raised an eyebrow at that, but Geralt continued, “It’s a very odd skill for a bard to have.”

A laugh, Geralt had to bite back a hiss as Jaskier’s touches grew less gentle. He clearly wanted him to drop it. “What? Do you think that I was helpless before you came along with your bulging muscles and witchery glares?”

The witcher shook his head, silver hair sending droplets of water in the air, “No it’s not that,” the bard had certainly proved capable and skilled many times over, “It’s just, were you a healer before you became a bard?”

Jaskier froze, seemingly caught in a memory, “Something like that,” he began to bandage Geralt’s shoulder, “This kikimore did quite the number on you, didn’t it?”

Geralt gave him a look of disbelief because obviously.

“Come on, come on, give me the details, I can’t write my ballads off of just grunts and intrusive questions now can I?”

-@~*^*~@-

Jaskier had tagged along on what was supposed to be a minor contract. Nilfgaard had stormed a small town, leaving destruction and countless corpses in their wake. Corpses that were perfect for every Alghoul in a three mile radius.

He and Geralt were engaged in their usual banter (which consisted mostly of Jaskier rambling about whatever was on his mind, punctuated with the occasional grunt from his witcher), when a sudden, piercing screech rang through the air. It was high pitched, shrill, and caused Jaskier to clutch his head as he let out a groan of pain.

Meanwhile, Geralt immediately leapt into action, drawing his silver sword as a pack of the necrophages surrounded them. He was able to take out several, his sword and the ghouls creating a smooth, gory dance. It all seemed to be going well before an Alghoul caught Geralt off guard, leaping onto his back while extending its spines. This sent Geralt off balance, and he was quickly overwhelmed. His sword got knocked out of his hands in the scuffle and he thought that this, however stupid it may be, would be what would kill him.

A cry of rage. Slashing, tearing. Suddenly the weight that was dragging Geralt to the ground grew lighter. He felt something wet and sticky. Geralt looked up to see Jaskier standing over him, holding Geralt’s silver sword, out of breath, and covered in Alghoul viscera.

The bard looked down at himself, annoyance on his admittedly handsome features, “That was my favorite tunic too!” The tunic in question, once baby blue (like his eyes which were now flashing gold, what the fuck?) was now stained red and black. Jaskier brushed a bit of entrails off his shoulder, visibly disgusted.

“Huh?” Geralt said, intelligently.

-@~*^*~@-

The pair was making their way north, Jaskier strumming on his lute and Geralt sat atop Roach. The dirt road was a tunnel bordered by a wall of towering trees, whose orange and red canopies blocked out the sun, casting the duo in dappled shade.

Jaskier strummed a few chords in the major key, before he spoke, “Geralt, are you doing alright?” His face was soft and forget-me-not eyes distant like they often grew when he was lost in thought. Geralt shot him a confused look. “It’s just that, you’ve seemed rather distracted lately.”

“Hm?”

“I,” Jaskier sighed, collecting himself, “It’s just with the kikimore and the alghouls, and just last week when you forgot your potions in Roach’s saddlebags. I’ve never seen you get like this before, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” Geralt replied, gaze sliding to anywhere but his bard.

Jaskier reached up, intertwining his lithe fingers with Geralt’s own, “I’m worried about you, Love.”

Geralt huffed, he could never resist the man’s pouting lips and puppy-dog eyes, “Yen and I had a conversation at that party a few months ago.”

He felt the bard tense, “Is that so?” There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Jaskier must have realized Geralt, man of few words that he is, wasn’t going to elaborate any further, so he spoke, “What did you two talk about?”

“She said you aren’t human and I just thought about it more and… it makes too much sense,” Geralt began, feeling awkward as he tried to find the words to explain, “The way you don’t age, your medical knowledge (even of witcher potions!), how you know your way around a sword and how your eyes gleamed-”

“Geralt, as you know I have an impeccable skincare routine and-”

He frowned, “Don’t give me that shit, bard.”

Jaskier sighed, “You really want to know?” A nod. “Okay, well, here goes nothing.” The bard let go of the witcher’s hand, and pulled off a golden ring that, now that Geralt thought about it, he had never seen the man without. A shimmer fell over the bard’s body, like a statue being unveiled. The first thing Geralt noticed was his eyes, they were a sickening, piercing yellow. His face was marred by countless scars, from claws, burns, knives, and magic. Jaskier’s build underneath the glamour more closely resembled Geralt’s, though he retained his shorter stature. The bard smiled sardonically at the witcher’s shocked expression, “Like what you see?”

Geralt’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, “How?”

“You’d probably know me better as Julian,” Jaskier’s eyes got that distant look to them again, his face was downcast, an unusual expression for someone who typically embodied sunshine, “I was in the Griffin school, before we were attacked,” a joyless laugh, “I had never wanted to be a witcher, ya know? Wasn’t cut out for it. But my father, Viscount Pankratz himself, couldn’t pay a witcher for his contract, so he offered me up instead. I failed as a noble, so maybe I wouldn’t fail as a witcher. He was wrong, of course, I spent most of my time writing poems instead of studying Signs. Singing instead of sparring. After the trials I spent a few years on the path before I grew sick of it and returned to Kaer Seren.”

Geralt hummed, encouraging Jaskier to continue.

“I was made to look after the students, I had to patch up their wounds and keep them from blowing themselves up with alchemy. I loved the little rascals, which is why..” Jaskier trailed off, fingers tracing the grooves in his lute.

“It’s okay,” Geralt said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He shook his head hurriedly, “No, no I want to, I have to,” his voice cracked, “I left after the trials killed them. All of them. I couldn’t bear to be a part of it. A part of everything. So I ran, like a coward,” He spat out that last word like a curse.

The pair stopped. Geralt placed his gloved hand on the bard’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection and reassurance.

“Eventually, I found a mage and spent my life’s savings on a well-made glamour and the lute the elves at Posada so lovingly destroyed. It wasn’t until I had graduated from Oxenfurt that I found out what happened in Kaer Seren.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Geralt asked, his voice gentle.

Jaskier’s face flushed red with shame, “I was afraid. Afraid of what you would think of me. That you’d hate me.”

Geralt frowned, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

At that, Jaskier laughed, “Just look at me! I’m an ugly fuck-up.”

“No,” Geralt said resolutely.

“Huh?”

“I said no. Do you know how many times you’ve saved my life? Made long nights on the path easier to bear? I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you,” Geralt continued, looking Jaskier directly in the eyes. He didn’t reply to that, just slipped his ring back on and hugged his arms to his chest.

The rest of the day’s journey was spent in silence.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a comment, I love hearing feedback. I had one hell of a time writing this, I originally had only written the first scene, and it took a few months for my single window's screensaver brain cell to finally hit a corner and figure out how to continue and finish the story.

Ao3

#The Witcher #The Witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #ao3 #ff.net #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher!jaskier #feral jaskier #yennefer #dandelion #netflix #non-human jaskier

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kitsuragied · 3 years

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drunk on you (julian bashir x elim garak)

wrote a thing for deep space nine (because garashir my beloved), it's long, so i broke it up into two parts. here's the first one, it's 2k words and tw for blood mention, other than that it should be fine! enjoy!

“Mister Garak,” Julian Bashir slurs, leaning against said man’s couch, “has anyone ever told you how very precious you are?”

Garak tilts his head in that Cardassian way of his and gently pulls the bottle of kanar out of his drinking partner’s grip. “I do believe you’ve had enough, Doctor. You of all people should know how potent this sort of drink is in Humans.”

Julian offers him a loopy grin. “Aw, come on, Garak, it’s only two glasses, I’m fine,” he protests. His point is undermined by the fact that he keeps swaying unsteadily as he sits cross-legged on the couch cushion, not bothering to try and stabilize himself. Garak presses his lips together and tries to put on an exasperated expression. He thinks he does fairly well- in any other case it would’ve been impeccable acting, but the glass of kanar he’s already had makes the amusement he’s feeling shine through a little more than he’d like.

His friend doesn’t notice, lost in the alcohol and too busy further destabilizing himself, giggling as he tilts closer and closer to Garak next to him. “Whoa,” he mutters as he tips out of balance, twisting at the last moment and landing with his head in Garak’s lap. Garak freezes, and he has the odd urge to slowly raise his hands in a placating gesture, as if to demonstrate he doesn’t mean this beautiful creature in his lap any harm.

He doesn’t. There isn’t much reason to, anyways. They’re alone in his quarters- no one to be suspicious of him except, of course, himself- and it’s not like he’d hurt Julian anyways. Or want to. The man himself doesn’t seem very worried; in fact, there’s a fond look in his eyes, an adoring, trusting, almost-loving sort of look that he hasn’t seen directed at himself in a while. People look at him, yes, but always with fear or distrust or hatred tainting their expressions. Take your pick of reasons- Tain’s man, Obsidian agent, Cardassian, rumoured spy- but it’s always there, lurking beneath a thin veneer of politeness (or, more likely, outright glaring, veneer nonexistent).

Julian, though. Julian Bashir has always trusted him, from the moment he sat across from him in the Replimat to the time Garak raged and flipped tables at him to now, alone with him and drunk and vulnerable and feeling totally, utterly safe. It almost makes him uncomfortable, seeing the extent to which Julian trusts him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it, knows the doctor’s illusions of his mysterious but altogether clean past would shatter upon hearing of even the most irrelevant of errands he ran for the Order. Still, even with no small amount of guilt, he savors the kind curve of Julian’s mouth when he catches sight of his Cardassian friend.

Julian, not bothering to get off Garak’s lap, giggles and reaches up. He almost flinches away instinctively, but all Julian does is tap his nose once. “Boop,” he says with yet another giggle. Garak raises an eyeridge.

“And what, exactly, does that mean, Doctor?”

“Nothing.”

“I see,” Garak says, leaning back against the couch and looking around the rest of the room, content to sit in silence for a while.

“No- wait, it’s an Earth thing,” Julian says hurriedly, as if Garak had threatened him.

“Ah, I believe I’ve heard of it,” he responds absentmindedly, reaching down to thread his fingers through Julian’s hair.

“You’re lying,” Julian pouts. His mood suddenly turns serious, and he peers intently at him. “Why do you always lie to me, Garak?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t take it personally, my dear,” he says. He’s vaguely aware that he keeps forgetting to add “Doctor”, but at the moment Julian is warm in his lap and his mind is foggy and he can’t bring himself to deny this simple affection. “It’s simply a habit of mine.”

Julian hums in acknowledgement, but doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. He makes a grab for the kanar bottle, still in Garak’s other hand, and sits up, taking another drink before the bottle’s taken away again.

Garak, kanar in hand again, chides, “ Julian. You really should stop,” but for once he feels relatively safe and isn’t cycling through all the reasons he should stay far, far away from the Doctor and the tangled mess of feelings that come with him and so he tips the bottle up.

He sighs afterward, setting the bottle on the coffee table in front of him with a satisfying clunk , other hand still in Julian’s hair. Julian’s got a face full of anguish when he looks down at him, and Garak tilts his head, inviting him to explain. He shakes his head, but a moment later he lets out a long breath and says, “He annoys me so much.”

Garak laughs. “There’s a lot of men who annoy you, Doctor. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Julian goes on as if he never heard him. “Really, though, I wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s splendid, you know?” He gestures wildly on splendid, somehow managing to smack Garak in the face and nearly overturn the kanar bottle sitting on his coffee table. “So mysterious.”

Garak, clenching his jaw against the bitter taste of jealousy, manages to get out an “I see”, but it doesn’t really matter; Julian’s far gone at this point and continues to ignore him, lost in thoughts of this mystery man.

“He doesn’t love me,” he says, giving Garak heartbroken puppy eyes. “He doesn’t love me… he said he hated me, once. He was lying. I think. He always lies but he doesn’t lie sometimes and it’s so confusing- Garak, it’s so confusing. ”

“He doesn’t sound all that nice.”

“He isn’t, really- he’s nice to me, though. Makes me feel nice.”

“That’s nice, then.” Even with years of Obsidian training, it’s still a concerted effort to keep his voice steady. Damn Federaji , damn Humans, damn this particular Federaji Human with his honeyed smile and his charming naivete and his slender body and his brilliant fucking arguments and-

“He’s brilliant, did you know?”

“You seem to have forgotten you still haven’t told me who he is, dear,” Garak says. It’s an indulgement he can’t help but allow himself. He’s lost his Doctor; what’s one little word?

“I don’t know who he is, either.” Garak makes a questioning face. “I don’t know if he knows who he is either. He’s kind of lost. Stuck.”

“Ah.”

“It’s a sad thought.”

“That your-” he pauses for a second- “that he’s stuck?” He feels silly, trying to talk to an obviously drunk, in-his-head Julian who keeps ignoring him. He might as well have put on a movie and tried to talk to the characters.

“Most people have never heard their friends’ actual voice,” Julian says. Garak pauses, considering. It’s an interesting sort of thing to think about, if (as Julian said) a bit sad.

“I learned Kardasi for him,” he continues. And that’s even more interesting- this man speaks Kardasi? He dismisses a thought before it can form. Some aren’t worth entertaining, even for a moment; hope is a dangerous thing, flighty and tempting and ultimately disappointing, and he isn’t such a fool as to invite that sort of creature into his head.

“I learned it for him,” Julian repeats. “It’s a very nice language, you know. Very interesting. I speak it to my friends and no one notices. He didn’t notice either.” So he talks to the mystery man. Hm. He starts to analyse the information, mind almost subconsciously going through the steps and piecing together what he knows. So far, very little.

“Tell me about this man,” he says.

Julian gives him a little head-tilt. “Whatever do you mean? I’ve been telling you about him,” he says. Garak can’t tell if he’s genuinely confused or if alcohol makes him more of a little shit than usual. It’s certainly making himself more impatient.

“I mean that I don’t know who this man is, and if you’ll excuse my bluntness, I would like to know,” he says shortly.

Understanding seems to dawn in Julian’s eyes. “Oops.” Scale-less arms wrap around his neck and he pulls himself up and before he’s got a chance to think bad idea bad idea bad idea soft lips are on his and suddenly all he can think is OH! and Julian’s kissing him harder and maybe the Humans were on to something with their kissing because dear god it’s so good and he leans closer and Julian hums against him and

crash

He’s on the floor, rubbing at his shoulder, at the place where Garak shoved him away. “Garak-”

“Out.”

His eyes widen. “Garak, I’m so sorry,” he says, but his words are slurred and bad idea bad idea bad idea is rushing through and he gets up off the couch ( my dear Cardassia what have I done ) and picks Julian up and goes for the door ( damage control damage control ).

“No- Garak- wait- no don’t leave me I’m sorry we can talk about it-” the door slides open with that same mechanical beep-whoosh as he approaches- “Garak, please- you can’t just leave me out here-”

“I can and I will, Doctor,” he grits out. “You’re drunk. Go home.” Bashir is set down just outside his door.

“Garak- Garak wait- no-” the door starts to slide shut again- “Elim!”

whoosh-click.

He sighs heavily, leaning against it, head in his hands.

bad idea bad idea bad idea bad idea

The pieces of the kanar bottle are sharp as he picks them up off the floor. Julian’s momentum had knocked it against the opposite wall, shattering it, breaking it beyond repair just as surely as he’d broken any semblance of camaraderie between them, and now they lie glimmering in the window's meagre light. He can’t simply leave the pieces on the floor, jagged and dangerous- can’t keep seeing Bashir, all of our usual engagements will have to go, and then some- and so he picks them up, slowly, even though they slide against his palm when he closes it around them, edges breaking skin when he shifts the wrong way ( it’ll hurt, yes, but I can deal with it, I can deal with it, I’ll have to deal with it ). He can’t feel it, can’t feel much over the roaring in his head- Tain’s voice, of course it’s Tain’s voice, it’s always Tain’s voice- you knew this would happen, it’s your fault, you knew you shouldn’t have gotten closer to him don’t be so selfish now look what you’ve done. He’s gone and deluded himself into wanting someone like you and he’ll never have happiness and it’s your fault your fault your

There’s a sharp pain and the feeling of cold blood trickling down his hand. The glass piece slides out of his grip and lands on the carpet, dripping in the stuff and staining the carpet.

He huffs. Control, Elim. Control is the key. The memories seem to dissipate as he shakes his head, along with Tain’s admonishments.

There’s a knock at his door. Doctor Bashir. He’s the only person who actually knocks, like the Humans used to in the old days before automated doors. He’s also the only person who’d want to come see him in his quarters. “I’m not here!” Garak calls.

There’s a thump that sounds suspiciously like a human fist hitting the door in frustration, a groan, and then Bashir calls, “Let me in, Garak! I just want to talk!”

Unfortunately for the doctor, talking is the last thing he wants to do. Bashir keeps yelling, desperation seeping into his voice, but he simply turns and continues picking up more pieces of the glass bottle. There’s a flash of pain and then cold blood dripping from a fresh cut ( go talk to him, what the fuck are you doing, he wants you, go out there and just take him ) and he shakes his head, sighing, but he tips the piece into the bag he’s using to hold them all because he can’t just leave them on the floor ( the fuck do you mean just go out there and take him you can’t do that you’d destroy him, you know it, you and all your secrets and your cruelty would crush his bright-eyed smile ) and it’s always the harsher voices that are loudest but this one’s right. He can’t give in to the man outside his door, has to not be selfish for once in his entire bloodstained life and so he just keeps going, collecting cuts as he handles the edges of what used to be a beautiful, whole bottle and grits his teeth against the sting.

Eventually, footsteps sound, padding away from his door, and he sighs and slumps against the edge of the coffee table. It digs into his back scales uncomfortably, but he can't bring himself to move.

...

hooray! tumblr didn't kill my formatting (i think)! part two will be up soon, i pinky promise i'll deliver this time i swear it. comments fuel my soul and my writing if you reblog i am legally required to love you forever same goes for comments x

#star trek #ds9 #deep space nine #st:ds9 #garashir #fanfic #my writing

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cinderelliee · 3 years

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My final character opinions before Chain of Iron...

Just finished my reread of Chain of Gold ahead of Tuesday’s release!!! I am posting my thoughts/opinions of the main cast so that after Chain of Iron I can see how or if my feelings change. Spoilers: most of my opinions are going to be that I don’t know enough about them lmao. I love the big cast of characters, but that unfortunately also means less time is spent on each one.

Disclaimer: I know that I love some characters that people hate and vice versa. My intention is not to start anything, but more to be more open about what I think about the characters. It’s okay to disagree and just because I say I don’t like a character, it does not mean I believe they are badly written...

Alastair Carstairs:

One of my favorites of the series, and possibly TSC as a whole (let’s see how the series goes first). I love him so much and I can’t wait to see how his story goes. I love that he keeps everyone at arms length and pushes everyone away, but he would also go to any length for the people he loves. I think he has a gift of being able to see people as they are, and notice things others don’t. Probably why he was the one, not Cordelia, who saw what was wrong with his father and kept it from his sister. I’m sure he used to look up to his father like Cordelia did, but instead suffered great disappointment when he learned the truth. And then when he went to the academy, finally having some time away from it, all he found was more disappointment. He did what he thought he had to to survive. And I think along the way he sort of lost himself.

I do think Alastair should make amends with the Merry Theives, but less for their sake and more for his own. I think his journey is more about finding and forgiving himself. There are other ways to live and survive than hurting anyone who gets too close to you. I think he started that journey in Chain of Gold when he dyed his hair back to black and broke up with Charles. But fixing yourself is easier said than done, it’s not one choice, but something that you strive for everyday. His journey actually reminds me a lot of Matthew’s; they have a lot in common and I think their paths will parallel each other’s. I also think Thomas will be a catalyst for Alastair’s growth, as well as a helping hand.

I can’t wait to see his dynamic with the characters this next book as he tries to return to his true self. It’ll be interesting to see how his relationship with Elias plays out too.

Anna Lightwood:

I really like Anna so far. I think she’s very unique and exciting. I love how dedicated she is to being true to herself, but at the same time cares deeply about her loved ones and shows it. Often times I feel like characters like her often act like they’re above showing affection towards their family, so I was pleasantly surprised when she wasn’t. This is probably because her parents love and support her, so she never had to scorn familial love.

Romantic love is a different thing. Now, my two pieces about her life style is: why don’t we all just have a good time. I know there’s some people who didn’t like that she called her many partners ‘conquests’ and that she had a little black book. But I didn’t really see that criticism until recently and I’m confused as to what people thought Anna was doing? Would they rather her not keep track and forget them all? It’s perfectly healthy to explore your sexuality as long as you aren’t harming yourself or others. I know Anna is seen as older, but she is still only 19 (I think? 20 at most right?). She’s still on her journey to figuring out who she is. She is a bit self-centered and definitely privileged (see her relationship with Ariadne), but if she didn’t have flaws there would be nowhere for her to grow from. I highly doubt Anna will be living her seductress lifestyle by the end of the series

Personally, I cannot wait to see how her relationship with Ariadne plays out. Hopefully Anna will have some healthy confrontation with how she reacted to her heartbreak and why. Anyway, Anna is definitely one of my favorites.

Ariadne Bridgestock:

She seems like an interesting character, and I like how she’s not afraid to go after what she wants. I’d like to know a little more about her past and motivations. I also think she’s in a really difficult situation with her family and who she is/wants to be. I think she made a really understandable choice when she engaged Charles, and I support her journey in winning Anna back (I don’t not agree with the people who judged her for not backing off from Anna. She is fighting for who she loves and we are all fools in love). I think she has a lot of potential, but I can’t quite say that I like her yet since she’s probably the character we know the least about.

Charles Fairchild:

No opinion. I don’t love or hate him. No feelings whatsoever. The only thing I care about is the possible drama he will cause for Alastair and Thomas or the Clave as a whole lmao

Christopher Lightwood:

This boy is great! I have no complaints about him at all. He is precious. Honestly I’d just like to see more from him! His lines always make me chuckle. Also I’m not convinced that he would be able to create a antidote before the Silent Brothers would’ve been able to. But whatever, it’s just a story so who cares.

Cordelia Carstairs:

I just think she’s really neat. She is a fantastic protagonist and definitely on her way to becoming my favorite TSC lead, other than Tessa, obviously. I love her strength, kindness, relentless resilience, and how headstrong she is. I think it’s hilarious how straightforward she is. There’s so many scenes where she just says exactly what she’s thinking and just surprises everyone around her because they underestimated her or never expected her to so forcefully share her opinions. I adore her relationships with everyone. Her and Lucie are adorable. Her relationship with Alastair is so sweet and watching them rebuild their relationship was one of my favorite parts of the book, and definitely something I’m looking forward to. Matthew and Cordelia’s relationship is one of my favorites from the book; I love how they challenge and surprise each other (I think they could learn a lot from each other). Her interactions with the Merry Theives in general are perfect.

One thing I will say is there just wasn’t enough of her. I was very surprised when I read it that James and her were basically co-protagonists. I didn’t expect James to have such a prominent role, usually the split between the girl and boy lead is 60/40 at most, but this felt more like a 50/50 split. I just would’ve prefered more from Cordelia I guess, but that’s just me.

Grace Blackthorn:

So at first I was neutral towards Grace. I didn’t care about her at all, but after I came online and saw how many people hated her and acted like her was a villain, I started liking her more. She obviously is a victim of her mother’s manipulation and she doesn’t want to do what she’s doing to James. It’s clear to me that she is doing what she can to survive and to help her brother, the only person she truly cares about. Since she is also one of the few characters that it’s unclear where her story is going to end up, I am curious to see how her story goes.

I know there’s some people who just wanted her to be a villain, and I totally get that. But I feel like if she was, we would get a less complex character. Cassie’s villains, with the exception of Jonathan perhaps, tend to be one dimensional (which is fine because that’s not the reason I read her books anyways!). I also don’t really think she needs much of a redemption arc because she’s just trying to survive.

James Herondale:

This is where I’m going to get a little unpopular. I don’t love James, BUT I don’t hate him either. I am just not interested in where his story goes at all. I think I get what Cassie’s goal was with his character. He doesn’t have Will and Jace’s dark past and he’s not a morally grey bad boy like Julian. James is caring and sweet and noble and has a good family and I can totally see why people like him. For me, he still fills the same exact role that I’ve seen, not just from Cassie, but other YA books as well, and I’m just tired of it. His motivations are doing whatever he can to protect his loved ones and doing things because they are the right thing to do. He is willing to lay down his life for the greater good. I just can’t see anything about him that feels new. The only times I’ve felt anything towards him is when Jem, Cordelia, or Matthew were making me feel something for him.

It could be because I don’t really care for Cassie’s plots and his arc is so heavily involved with all the Prince of Hell stuff. And the bracelet just pisses me off in a bad way. The solution to it is so simple that it just frustrates me, but does not intrigue me at all. I will say I like him better with the bracelet off so I’m hoping in stays off this next book so I can enjoy his POV a little more. I really want to like him, but I just don’t connect with him at all. I wish Cassie had come up with something other than the bracelet as well.

Jesse Blackthorn:

Imma be honest: at the moment I don’t really care about Jesse either. I don’t know enough about him. But it seems like we’re gonna get more from him this next book so I’m reserving my judgement until then. In Chain of Gold I noticed most of his scenes were pretty expository or he was passing along information, but we never really got to know much about him. Hopefully I will like him in Chain of Iron though!

Lucie Herondale:

I really like Lucie so far! My favorite part about her is that she is so practical, but also able to loose herself in whimsical fantasies. She is totally 100% Tessa and Will’s child!! I don’t have much to say other than I love what I’ve gotten from her so far, but I just need a little bit more to connect with her. I’m hoping Chain of Iron really explores her darker side and her motivations. I kinda have a feeling this next book will either make or break my opinion of her.

Matthew Fairchild:

Anyone who has been following me for a while now could probably guess that Matthew is my favorite from TLH. I don’t know what it says about me, but I relate to him on a personal level. Although I haven’t made the same mistakes he has, (thank heavens for that!) I do know how he feels. I do know what it’s like to have something happen, that’s completely your fault, and have it change your life into something completely different than you thought it would be. I have made a lot of posts about him so if you want more in depth details, they are on my blog.

I’m just going to say that, very similar to Alastair, I think that Matthew has a lot of amends to make, to everyone in his life. And his journey is what I look forward to the most. He’s made a lot of mistakes, huge ones, and I know it’ll probably get worse before it gets better. But I hope his story isn’t going to be as sad as everyone believes, (I don’t think it will be, since a vast majority of Cassie’s characters eventually get happen endings) it just means a lot to me that his character doesn’t end up a tragedy. Like I said before his relationship with Cordelia is something I am really looking forward to. And his relationship with his family as well.

I love him your honor. *if I loved him less I may have been able to talk about him more*

Thomas Lightwood:

I really like Thomas!!! I favorite thing about him is that he can so easily see the beautiful and worth in everyone and everything (which makes him perfect for Alastair!). I love how gentle and kind he is. So far what I have seen from him has been so great. And how he was able to carrying on despite his sister’s death and then Christopher’s illness was really admirable. But I’m going to say for him as I’ve said for most: I want to see more from him!!! I have faith that his and Alastair’s relationship with be the best part of the book, so I have high hopes!

Okay!!! I think that’s everyone!! Let me know what you think?? Do you agree or disagree! I would love to get into some discussions with people to pass the time until the release!! If anyone wants to make their own post, please tag me!! I’d love to see!!! Do you think I have enough ‘!!!!!!!!!’?

#Anna Lightwood #ariadne bridgestock #Charles fairchild #Matthew Fairchild #cordelia carstairs #alastair carstairs #James herondale #Christopher Lightwood #Thomas Lightwood #Grace blackthorn #Jesse blackthorn #Lucie Herondale #chain of gold #chain of iron #the last hours #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare

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relenafanel · 4 years

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Squats For Thots - Geralt/Jaskier | PG-13.

This is mostly one long dick joke I wrote as an excuse to use “Squats for Thots” as a title. It’s also mostly foolish men with crushes objectifying each other’s asses. #whoops.

“The Countess likes her men a little more thicc, you know?” Jaskier said, burning through the starting set Geralt had given him surprisingly well. Well enough that he continued talking, though Geralt wasn’t sure the man ever stopped. “Likes something to hold on to.”

Most of the men Geralt saw at the private club thought targeted exercises were a quick way to improve what they considered to be small problem areas, like there was a cheat sheet to looking like a Hemsworth that wasn’t partially genes. Most of them thought they were a personal trainer away from movie-star abs, and Geralt wasn’t there to disabuse them of the notion.

“I figured,” Jaskier continued, breathing through his final 20, “if I found the trainer with the best ass in the place they’d be the person to show me how to turn this slab into fab.”

“Do you ride?” Geralt asked, making a note to make Thursday’s session more intense.

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, finally sounding out of breath. He batted his eyelashes and Geralt also made a note to recommend the man invest in a sweatband if it was going to make him blink like that, especially since Jaskier didn’t seem to be perspiring hard yet.

“How many times a week and for how long?”

Jaskier opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked flustered and then flummoxed, though Geralt pretended he didn’t notice since he couldn’t figure out why. Then Jaskier laughed. “Ohh, you mean a horse,” he said. “Not often, not since adolescence, though I can still manage a decent seat when needed. Why? Should it be part of my training? I can’t say I’ve noticed all equestrians have a juicy booty but I don’t know if I’ve been looking for the trend.”

“Hm,” Geralt answered, aware it wasn’t an answer at all. “My job today is determining your limits.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier agreed, probably because they’d already been over this before starting. There was also that flirtatious lilt to it that Geralt was realizing he should have been able to identify from the start.

Fuck.

Jaskier was one of those people who stopped by the club a few times a month and spent more time off to the side drinking smoothies and watching the people around him than he did exercising. It was a surprise he was able to keep up with the exercises Geralt had designed to easily break him. “Your lower body is better developed than I assumed.”

“Thank you for the compliment, even though I think what you really mean is you assumed my fitness level is the same as a 3 year coma patient and tested me accordingly. I don’t think I’m even insulted by that. Though we could have saved some wasted time if you’d ever seen me naked.”

Geralt leveled him with an unimpressed expression designed to ask ‘why would I want to do that?’

Jaskier flushed but didn’t look particularly embarrassed or emasculated, which was maybe the first thing he’d done in his favour. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug, “why does anyone?”

****

“I hear you’ve taken on the Viscount de Lettenhove as a client,” Lambert said, looking far too relaxed against the bar.

Geralt shrugged. He had six new clients since the last time he’d spoken with Lambert and the name didn’t sound familiar.

“Lord Julian?” Lambert continued. “Has a reputation for being very generous in bed, both generally and -“ he made a vague gesture to his dick. “A good third of the people at the club have either already had sex with him, want to have sex with him, or a combination of both. During your session last week, Rodgie said Lettenhove fucked him so well he thought he was gay for another three months, like he’d gone temporarily blind to the charms of women it was so good.”

Geralt scowled.

“I’m just repeating what he said. Don’t pretend you’re beyond gossiping about this.”

“I can’t place the name,” he admitted instead of answering that. Beyond gossip? Apparently not. Seeking it out? No. Especially about someone referred to as Lord Julian.

“Really? Tall-ish. Handsome-ish. Good with his hands. Treadmill squad can’t seem to take their eyes off him. Was in on Thursday.”

New client. Thursday. “Jaskier?”

“Yes,” Lambert agreed with a snap of his fingers. “That’s the name he uses. Rich people, eh?”

Jaskier?

Lambert shook his head. “I can’t tell if you just don’t notice people or if you genuinely aren’t into dick, sometimes.”

****

Geralt was into dick.

Sometimes.

****

He noticed.

Not anything different about Jaskier. The man still talked his way through whatever exercises Geralt threw at him, far too flirtatious for comfort, and never really seemed to notice that he was being openly appraised by almost every single person on exercise machines.

But Geralt did.

****

It wasn’t that Geralt noticed Jaskier, it was just that Jaskier was standing at the smoothie bar on a day they weren’t scheduled to work together and he noticed the incongruity of seeing Jaskier on a Friday morning.

Wearing shorts.

It wasn’t really the shorts that kept his attention, it was the same thing about Jaskier that he’d noticed from the first moment they’d started working together - Jaskier’s damn legs and those calves that told of a less sedentary lifestyle than Jaskier pretended. Geralt didn’t understand why someone would stop by the gym in a health club only to lounge around doing nothing if they obviously spent a lot of time working out their legs (at least).

It took him a bit longer than it should have to realize he was gawking just as badly as Jaskier’s damn treadmill fanclub. He turned his back and pretended he was very interested in something else. Anything else.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, handing Geralt the second smoothie in his hands. Geralt was sure the person overdoing it on the rowing machine wilted in jealousy. “Are you in a session?”

“Technically,” Geralt said and took a sip of the smoothie. It tasted like summer.

Jaskier grinned at him. “No show?”

“Sauna.”

“That’s an option?” Jaskier asked, but looked more amused than anything. “And here I’ve been exercising like a chump”

“It’s an option.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t leave you out here fully clothed. Seems like a waste.” He grinned at Geralt, sly in a way that included Geralt in the joke. “Maybe you could advise me on the best ways to steam it up.”

“It’s an option,” Geralt repeated.

“I…” Jaskier started to say and then closed his mouth. “Really?”

“But if you do, you won’t make any progress.”

“In my butt or with you?” he blurted out. “And yes, I can hear that sentence is one finished thought away from a dirty joke but I’m going to be the bigger man here.”

Geralt seriously doubted that.

“Oh my god. Are you one finished thought from making that into a dick joke?” Jaskier looked delighted. “Yass, Geralt.”

The sauna door opened, and Geralt prepared himself to finish the last five minutes of the hour, which consisted of making sure his client was hydrated before sending him on his way, rather than continuing this conversation with Jaskier.

“Wait,” Jaskier said, with a hand on Geralt’s arm. “Is there something I can make progress on?”

Geralt shrugged. There wasn’t NOT something, which he knew wasn’t an answer either.

“Ok, so, that’s not a no. I acknowledge it’s not a yes, but it’s also not a no, and you’re not someone who has trouble with the word no. So.” Jaskier waved his hand, spraying smoothie from the top of his straw. “That’s cool.”

That’s cool, Geralt repeated in his head as he walked away. He probably should have said no just to save himself the pain of hearing that’s cool.

****

“There’s a rumour you’re about to get laid,” Lambert said on their bi-weekly meet up for beer.

“That’s cool,” Geralt said with a shrug.

Which, honestly, was worth it just for the look on Lambert’s face.

****

“Ok,” Jaskier said on Monday, which also wasn’t one of their scheduled meetings. He showed up like some kind of annoyance mirage wearing a brightly coloured shirt and shoes meant for lounging. Geralt was in the middle of helping the Earl of Something’s second son work off his weekend bender. The man had run off to puke twice already and Jaskier’s shirt wasn’t helping any. Neither was the way Jaskier snapped his fingers in front of his clammy face. “Off you go, you’re looking a little peaked.”

“Thank you!”

Jaskier rolled a yoga ball over with his foot and perched on it, crossing his legs. It occurred to Geralt that Jaskier was like a male peacock posturing, with his vibrant clothes and stupid pose. It also occurred to Geralt that he shouldn’t be into it. “We should go out for coffee and stuff.”

“Fine.”

“What?” Jaskier said, losing his balance and almost falling on the floor.

“Coffee and stuff. Fine. Let’s go out.”

“I…” Jaskier opened his mouth. Closed it. “Expected more of an argument and to maybe leave disappointed.”

Geralt shrugged. “Why?”

“I don’t know!” Jaskier threw up his hands and then stood. His movements had an ease to them that they wouldn’t if he didn’t fucking exercise somewhere. Geralt was going to figure it out because he was pretty sure if he asked anyone they’d say it was from sex and life didn’t work that way. “Because you asked me if I ride and meant a horse!”

“You stop by the smoothie bar, grab a lounge chair for a few hours, and take a nap whenever you come in. Something needed to account for your legs.”

Jaskier started laughing.

“Don’t say it,” Geralt told him with annoyance.

“You noticed,” Jaskier stressed.

****

“I hate that I know why you look so relaxed,” Lambert grumbled.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier

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shiftingslightly · 3 years

Text

tw for blood at the end, nothing major just cuts. also sorry about the abrupt fandom change

Mister Garak,” Julian Bashir slurs, leaning against said man’s couch, “has anyone ever told you how very precious you are?”

“Nothing.”

“I see,” Garak says, leaning back against the couch and looking around the rest of the room, content to sit in silence for a while.

“No- wait, it’s an Earth thing,” Julian says hurriedly, as if Garak had threatened him.

“Ah, I believe I’ve heard of it,” he responds absentmindedly, reaching down to thread his fingers through Julian’s hair.

“You’re lying,” Julian pouts. His mood suddenly turns serious, and he peers intently at him. “Why do you always lie to me, Garak?”

Garak laughs. “There’s a lot of men who annoy you, Doctor. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“He doesn’t sound all that nice.”

“He isn’t, really- he’s nice to me, though. Makes me feel nice.”

“He’s brilliant, did you know?”

“You seem to have forgotten you still haven’t told me who he is, dear,” Garak says. It’s an indulgement he can’t help but allow himself. He’s lost his Doctor; what’s one little word?

“I don’t know who he is, either.” Garak makes a questioning face. “I don’t know if he knows who he is either. He’s kind of lost. Stuck.”

“Ah.”

“It’s a sad thought.”

“Most people have never heard their friends’ actual voice,” Julian says. Garak pauses, considering. It’s an interesting sort of thing to think about, if (as Julian said) a bit sad.

“Tell me about this man,” he says.

“I mean that I don’t know who this man is, and if you’ll excuse my bluntness, I would like to know,” he says shortly.

crash

He’s on the floor, rubbing at his shoulder, at the place where Garak shoved him away. “Garak-”

“ Out .”

“I can and I will, Doctor,” he grits out. “You’re drunk. Go home.” Bashir is set down just outside his door.

“Garak- Garak wait- no-” the door starts to slide shut again- “Elim!”

whoosh-click.

He sighs heavily, leaning against it, head in his hands.

bad idea bad idea bad idea bad idea

There’s a sharp pain and the feeling of cold blood trickling down his hand. The glass piece slides out of his grip and lands on the carpet, dripping in the stuff and staining the carpet.

He huffs. Control, Elim. Control is the key. The memories seem to dissipate as he shakes his head, along with Tain’s admonishments.

There’s a thump that sounds suspiciously like a human fist hitting the door in frustration, a groan, and then Bashir calls, “Let me in, Garak! I just want to talk!”

Eventually, footsteps sound, padding away from his door, and he sighs and slumps against the edge of the coffee table. It digs into his back scales uncomfortably, but he can't bring himself to move.

subscribe to the fic here to be emailed when it updates! part two is coming soon, projections indicate about three days

#star trek #ds9 #garashir #fanfic #fanfiction #school is hectic but a. what else is new and b. it's ending really really soon #like a day soon #so i should have more time for this!

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blobbyclouds · 4 years

Note

Hi um...I just got back into the arcana after a long absense and stubled upon this gem of a blog and adore your headcannons so maybe if ot isnt too much the cast with a highly sensitive empath mc? If not all then maybe just Julian, muriel, and lucio?

I literally love this idea, thank you so much for requesting! There are so many parts of it to think about and it’s really cute but also angsty if we want it to, just 10/10 I only did Julian, Muriel, and Lucio in this request, but I’m going to do the other three in a separate post just so things don’t get too long :)

warnings: none!

-Julian Devorak-

Julian was probably amazed that he was meeting a real life empath, since he’s only ever read about them, so he was probably a bit awkward at first

He didn’t know how to feel about someone knowing how he feels, because you know what that means? He can’t hide his insecurities behind witty remarks and flamboyant dramatics! :(

But he got used to it pretty quick, because it was actually nice not having to put his feelings into words? You’d just know and understand

You know just what to say, to the point he doesn’t even mind that he can’t hide emotions from you. Resting his head on your chest while you play with his hair and speak softly is probably the most peaceful he’s ever felt

He’s forever grateful to you for waking him up from nightmares when you sense them going south as you hold him close, you can feel his pure gratitude and love and it’s worth the sleep loss

He feels like the luckiest guy in the world having someone like you, and has absolutely no idea how he would manage without you. So, obviously, he tries to repay your favors however he can

Large crowds can be really overwhelming for you sometimes, so he does his best to keep you away from them as much as he can

Once in a market, he looked away from you for two seconds only to turn back to you nearly sobbing. Not realizing it was your magic, he lowkey freaked out and dragged you to a side street, where he stooped down and began asking if you were feeling ill plus normal worry-wart Julian stuff

You managed to hiccup out an explanation that one of the merchants had lost her entire family recently, and you had felt her emotions

From then on, he always watches for signs that you’re being overwhelmed

Considering Julian’s a doctor and very observant, he’d probably learn the signs of when your empath abilities are starting to affect you

Whenever he notices it, he’ll tuck his cloak around you and gets you to a quieter place to help you sort out all the emotions in your head

He doesn’t show it, but you crying is almost physically painful for him

Overall though, he’s very supportive in his own dramatic way, and always super proud whenever you make progress with your magic, like learning to subdue it’s effects. Because yes! You go!

-Muriel-

Was not a fan of someone automatically knowing how he felt

He distanced himself from you at first, not wanting to become an open book for you to read

But, of course, you’re not one to be easily resisted and he found himself warming up to you. You never pressed for answers about his emotions, but instead helped him through his feelings and let him tell you what he felt comfortable telling, which he really appreciated

And not having to try to put his emotions into words was such a weight off his shoulder, and made him realize maybe your abilities aren’t all that bad

It’s really cute to feel how much his emotions can change just by having you around

Like he’ll be bored and kinda annoyed, but then you walk in and he’s suddenly happier and more relaxed

He knows large crowds can overwhelm your emotions if you aren’t careful, and he’s more than happy to steer clear of them with you. However, when you do have to go through crowded areas, he puts on his brave face because he knows how hard they are for you

Muriel is always very observant of you because he’s overprotective, so he can usually tell when your powers are starting to overwhelm you so he can get you somewhere quiet to calm down at

He hates seeing you cry, especially because there’s nothing he can really do to help you when your powers are overwhelming you

But he knows being frustrated won’t help you any, so he’ll just draw you in close with his big arms, and let you stay there for however long you need, talking only if you want to

H’ell keep a warm fire going, give you the fluffiest blankets, and bring Inanna to sit on your lap because she’s very adept at soothing your emotions

If you’re really upset and you happen to be at the hut, he’ll fetch one of the chicks and let you hold it because how can you be sad with something so small and fluffy in your hands?

He’s a very good listener and will let you ramble on about your frustrations for as long as you need

Quietly proud of you with a small smile whenever you learn to control your empath abilities better

-Count Lucio-

The moment he met you he had so many questions because, let’s face it, that’s a pretty cool power you have. He thought it was amazing how you could just know how people felt

But he didn’t think it was so amazing when you could sense his emotions when he was feeling anything but happy, victorious, or cool

He lowkey forgot that your powers worked on him like anyone else until you softly said his name and asked if he wanted to talk. Then he was even more upset that you knew he was upset, and he couldn’t pretend to be your big, strong, unbeatable knight in shining armor

You gave him time though, and he eventually got used to the idea

Sometimes he doesn’t want to talk about it, and he’ll just cuddle up next to you and relax knowing that someone knows how he feels. Other times he needs to get it off his chest and will just ramble on and on while you listen

Either way he’s grateful and promises to spoil you afterwards

Which he absolutely does, let me tell you. This man literally can’t wrap his head around the idea his lover is a literal empath so he’s going to spoil you however he can

This includes, but is not limited to, randomly picking you up and peppering you with kisses, buying you expensive outfits, and buying you animals you like (which are not only cute, but help soothe you when your powers get the better of you!)

It’s actually really sweet to feel his pure adoration for you just radiating off in waves with that big, cheeky grin of his

His jealousy is not so cute. You feel that and are instantly c o n c e r n e d

Tries to keep you away from large crowd, but he also Lucio helps you out of your comfort zone a bit and have fun :) He still can’t get over how pretty you look when you forget about your powers and let go

But he feels very bad for not noticing the signs of your powers overwhelming you because he got caught up in the moment, so he always apologizes and is extra sweet when comforting you

Sometimes he feels out of his depth when comforting you because you’re an empath being overwhelmed by other people’s emotions and he barely understands all this magic stuff, but he refuses to just give up

This often includes bringing in Mercedes and Melchoir to cuddle you, letting you lay on his chest, and getting your favorite pastries

Lowkey gets mad at other people when you sense their negative emotions and it upsets you, but he’s too worried about you to go and start trouble

He’s your personal cheerleader as you make progress with your abilities :)

#the arcana #lucio x reader headcanons #muriel x apprentice hcs #julian devorak/mc imagines #lucio/apprentice #count lucio x mc #lucio headcanons #muriel x reader #muriel/mc #muriel headcanons #julian devorak x reader #ilya devorak x apprentice #ilya headcanons #empath!reader

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moth-and-raven · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

They left his new turban behind. It’s just coiled there on the dusty stone floor, spattered with blood darker than the red fabric. I pick it up in a trance, rubbing the soft cloth between my fingers. Someone must’ve torn it off of him as they paraded his body out of the Market.

This can’t be happening.

But it is.

I try hard to tamp down my panic, turning away from the entrance and pushing back through the slowly-dispersing crowd. All around me, people mutter their theories and suspicions. It doesn’t help as much as I hoped it would to hear their anger on Julian’s behalf; no one stopped the guards, they just watched, and let them take him.

Thank god Skylar is so tall. I see him through a gap in the milling bodies. Just the sight of someone who might be able to help brings a lump to my throat. I fight it back for the moment, but I know I’ll lose out soon.

“Skylar,” I gasp, half-choked from my quick pace and the threat of tears.

“Reyja?” He reaches out to steady me, concern already etched across his kind face.

“They— they t-took him—”

I have to hold it together. I have to. I have to help him. I have to get my Julian back. It can’t end like this. It can’t —

Skylar pulls me into a strong embrace and I break, sobbing against his chest. I don’t have time to be crying like a child, but it won’t stop. His soft stomach is too welcoming, his arms around my back too gentle. He lets me weep there in the middle of the Red Market, shielding me from curious onlookers until I can breathe again.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumble when my voice returns, thick with tears still unshed. We just met and I’ve already stained his shirt.

“He means a lot to you.”

“He means everything to me.”

“Hm.” He nods. “Well, let me tell you, Ilya’s gotten out of worse scrapes than this.”

“But if they took him to the palace…”

“I’m sure they did.”

My heart drops. He wasn’t supposed to agree with me.

“But he’s even gotten out of there before,” Skylar continues. “With help.”

With help… “We need to— I need to find him.”

“Let’s go, then.”

I shake my head, already awash in the guilt that always comes after letting someone see me at my worst. “You don’t have to come with me. I’m sorry, I just panicked and came right back to you, when you were—”

“He’s my friend, too.”

Julian has so many people looking out for him. I don’t think he knows what an effect he has. He’s not alone. We’re not alone.

I’m not alone.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Skylar says with a smile. He nods towards the exit. "Lead the way."

I wipe my eyes almost furtively on Julian’s turban, then drape it over my shoulders like a scarf. I'll get the damn thing back to him if it's the last thing I ever do. The thought almost makes me laugh: he can't even tell what color it is, and wore it for less than an hour. And it didn't work in the end, since it was meant to disguise him. But it's still his. I bought it for him.

We're out of the Market and halfway to the palace before I realize I don't really know where I'm going. I've never been to the dungeons, if that's where they took him, and my erstwhile guide— Oh no.

Skylar notices my hesitation and stops beside me. "What’s up?"

"Portia, Julian’s sister. I need to tell her."

"Little Pasha?"

"You know her too?"

"Only from Ilya’s stories. Although…"

"What?"

Skylar cocks his head, staring at something I can't see. "She's got the Devorak nose and hair?"

"Yes?"

He smiles to himself. I've just opened my mouth to ask why when my name, in Portia's strident voice, cuts across the rosy Heart District street.

“At least someone’s safe,” she says angrily, twisting her hair around one hand as she approaches. She’s crying, but I don’t think she even notices. “I knew this would happen, I just knew it! I never should’ve agreed to—”

Apparently protectiveness runs in the family too. “It isn’t your fault—” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“I fucking know that! I know that, but… but what if…”

“Did you see him? Is he…?” I can’t bring myself to ask if the blow he took was worse than I thought.

Her lower lip trembles. “I don’t know,” she admits softly. “They were heading towards the dungeons, I think. A bunch of them. I saw Vulgora, and Valdemar.”

I swallow hard. Valdemar. Whatever Julian had been about to say before the guards sprang their trap had to do with them.

“I left Balam behind to watch while I came looking for you,” Portia continues, stifling her tears with an enormous breath. “But she can’t… I don’t want her to do something stupid before we get back.”

“We were on our way,” I tell her, gesturing at Skylar.

“You found him, then?”

Skylar himself laughs. “I’d like the full story at some point, how Ilya got here and knew where I’d be. But not now, obviously. I can wait a little longer.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you up to speed,” Portia says. “The real version, not whatever my idiot brother might’ve suggested. Let’s go.”

I let her spin his tale while we walk, trying not to compare this to the last time I was approaching the palace with Portia and a tall man. It seems so long ago now, though it’s been only a few days.

I should’ve told him then. I should’ve said aloud what I’ve been thinking all along. He deserves to know that I love him. I’ve known the whole time and kept it to myself, because how could I possibly love a man I met a week ago? How can he already matter so much to me that I would lie and sneak around and break the law for him? The way his name sits on my tongue, the memory of his skin against mine and the sound of his laugh… I love him. More than I’ve ever loved another person, like all the love I couldn’t express the last twenty-five years has been saved up just for him. I stifle a desperate sob with the back of my hand; I don’t want to talk about this, not with Skylar and Portia. As much as I like and appreciate them, it isn’t theirs to see yet.

We reach the palace at sunset. Exhaustion sucks at my feet as I climb the last set of stairs. It’s been a long day, one of the longest I can remember. I just want my Julian, to hold him and kiss him, to tell him what I need him to hear.

It’s as though nothing happened. The gatehouse guards make Skylar give his name, but they don’t even frisk him for weapons or ask what he’s doing here. Maybe it’s because he’s with us, or maybe they were here when he was, three years ago. I suppose it doesn’t matter; we’re across the bridge, through the doors, and turning into a corridor I haven’t been down yet before they can change their minds.

A blur of color hurtles out of a side room halfway down the hall, fast as quicksilver, stopping Portia as we pass. The newcomer speaks so quickly, through an accent I don’t think I’ve ever heard before, that I catch only a few words.

“— as you thought, the old dungeons — sent for Vlastomil — tried to go down myself, but—”

Portia cuts in. “You said you wouldn’t!”

She shrugs, rattling the beads of her magenta bracelet as she throws up her hands. “He’s in trouble, no?”

Portia shakes her head, and, to my surprise, wraps her arms around her waist and kisses her cheek. “Please don’t do this to me, Balei. One person I love is already in hot shit. I couldn’t stand it if you were, too.”

Oh. Oh.

“Um, this is Balam,” Portia says, catching sight of the blush rising to my cheeks as she turns back. “We’re, uh… yeah. Sorry I couldn’t introduce you sooner. She’s been in Prakra for a few months, just got back last night.”

My heart clenches, knowing that Portia had chosen to spend her time chasing ghosts and opening her home to me and Julian instead of being with her lover. And I can’t stifle the wave of guilt that quickly follows: I don’t think that I, in her position, would’ve done the same. If I had to choose between people who asked for my help and spending time with Julian, especially after he’d been gone… well, I can hate myself for being so selfish later.

“You’re Reyja,” Balam says to me. Without waiting for me to confirm or deny, she pushes on. “Portia’s told me all about you, and Julian, and as I said, I tried to follow the courtiers to the dungeons to see if he was alright, but they got too far ahead of me, which I suppose is for the best, considering how armed they were, but I think—”

When does she breathe?

“— I can ask Yaz to let us in, since they—”

“Yaz” couldn't possibly be Yazakh, Nadia’s bodyguard, could it? I can’t imagine anyone being on good enough terms with them to call them by a nickname.

“— and besides, I’ve been away from them, too.” Balam smiles wistfully. “East Prakra will always be my home, but to be away from you, from all of you—” She pauses to tuck one of Portia’s long red curls behind her ear. “—was more difficult than I imagined.”

Skylar, who had been watching, amused, from the sidelines, perks himself up. “East Prakra?” he asks, following the question with a raindrop-quick series of words in a language I can only assume is, indeed, East Prakran.

Balam lights up like the sun and responds. They exchange another few sentences then switch back to Vesuvian.

“I like you,” she says. I’m surprised at her straightforwardness, even if Skylar doesn’t seem to be.

“I don’t know much more than that,” he admits. “I haven’t had the chance to speak it since I left.”

Balam chuckles.

“I’m Skylar, by the way.”

“He’s an old friend of Ilya’s,” Portia adds.

“Ah. Of course I want to hear all about your time in East Prakra, but…” Balam trails off.

But Julian’s still in danger.

“Yaz will be in the gardens at this time of day. I’ll be right back.”

She’s gone before any of the rest of us can speak, racing down the hall with her colorful skirts flaring and the jingle of her many bangles floating back even as she turns the corner and disappears.

“I’ve missed her so much,” Portia says with an affectionate sigh.

I cast around for something to ask, something to distract me from the new rise of fear in my throat. Every second we delay means another chance Julian might— I don’t even want to think about it. “How did you meet?”

“She works here too, in the library.”

“Oh.” It was probably for the best that she’s been gone, then, considering what’s happened in that library the last few days.

Portia smirks at me. “Don’t worry, it’s all been cleaned up. And anyway, she’s usually too focused on her work to notice if something… else… is going on.”

“What does she do, exactly?”

“Research. Writing. She’s a magician, too.” Portia draws herself up to her full height, still several inches shorter than I am, and beams with pride. “She’s compiling a history of magic, actually. She works so hard, I know it’s going to be amazing when she’s done.”

Despite the situation, my interest is piqued. I’d love to read something like that myself. Skylar, too, nods, green eyes already distant with the thought of what he might learn. I wonder if he had time to buy the book he was examining when Julian and I found him.

“Oh, and by the way, always check which bracelet she’s wearing. If it’s silver, use ‘he’ instead.”

It isn’t long before Balam returns, her voice musical and flowing like water. She’s clinging to Yazakh’s elbow; for the first time since I came to the palace, I see them smile. It falls from their face when the two of them stop in front of us.

Yazakh’s stern golden gaze sweeps over us. They’re even taller than Julian, though not quite Skylar’s height. “You are the magician,” they say to me.

The magician Nadia hired to bring Julian to justice. There’s no question in their eyes or their smooth, deep voice, but I hear it anyway. Why would I, as that magician, want to see him now?

Julian said our relationship would come to light sooner or later. This is the worst possible time, but I don’t have it in me to lie anymore. I simply nod, and Yazakh mirrors me. I’m sure I catch a glimpse of understanding before they turn away.

“Follow me.”

The path to the dungeons is surprisingly straightforward, decorated much like the rest of the palace in cream and silk and luxury. Behind me I hear Portia and Balam whispering to each other, but it takes most of my concentration to stay calm, hold back my tears, and keep my steps steady.

The air changes, turning colder despite the summer evening outside, as we pass into a barracks crowded with off-duty guards. All of them snap to attention when they recognize Yazakh, but they push on, unlocking a heavily-barred door at the end of the room to reveal a darkened staircase. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, behind my eyes, reaching out into the darkness in search of Julian’s. He’s down there, I know. I can only hope he’s alone.

Before we descend, Yazakh turns to another guard. “When did they leave?” they ask.

The guard blinks. “About ten minutes ago, Captain,” she responds.

“All of them?”

“Yes. And, er…”

They level their stare at her.

“We heard screams.”

A bone-deep chill washes through me. I can’t take it. I have to see him.

Though I’m sure they could’ve stopped me if they wanted to, Yazakh lets me rush around them. I reach the bottom of the staircase before the others have even started down it.

I’m shaking when I call light to my palm, illuminating the gray-black stone of the palace’s dungeon. Wrought-iron bars enclose narrow cells, some cracking with rust and disuse. For a terrible moment, I don’t see anything.

And then a flash of red catches my eye.

Julian is manacled to the wall, slumped forward over his knees with his arms spread. His shirt is in tatters, hanging from his broad shoulders; what remains is smeared with dirt and blood. I can barely see the rise and fall of his ribs, the only other movement being the steady drip of blood from his nose. As I stare, stunned to paralysis, he coughs, sending a spatter of blood droplets against the opposite wall.

“No…” I breathe. What have they done to him?

He hears me, but doesn’t recognize my voice.

“Back already?” he growls. “For more fun, I hope. I told you I could take it.”

The others, minus Yazakh, pause on the stairs behind me. Portia draws an unsteady breath.

“Ha, and you brought friends.” He spits a mouthful of blood. “Well, I’ve never backed down from a challenge and I’m not about to start n—”

At last, he looks up. His patch is gone, replaced by a storm-dark bruise that, even as I watch, is shrinking, evidence of the abuse of his captors erased by the magical mark on his throat. Our eyes meet across the room, through the door of his cell.

I can’t hold back the tears anymore.

"Reyja!" He thrashes against his chains, swearing when it results in nothing but a rattle. “No, they weren’t supposed to—!”

I stumble to the bars. I can’t reach him. “Julian…”

“I didn’t tell them, I swear! I would never—”

“I believe you, I just—”

Someone touches my shoulder. I think I hear Portia bury a sob in Balam’s neck and Skylar hiss through his teeth.

“You need to get out of here, darling,” Julian says, words racing like wildfire. “Please, I can’t bear to see—”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You have to!” He’s getting fierce now.

“No! Not without you!”

The door opens. I didn’t do that. But a key rasps against the iron and I fling myself into the cell as soon as the bars swing away, dropping to my knees at Julian’s side. He squirms again, trying desperately to break free though he must know it’s impossible by now. Tears blur my vision as I scrape uselessly at one of his manacles.

“Reyja—”

I can only answer with a sob, fed by my frustration. What kind of magician am I, that I can’t even break a lock? No, wait— The spell comes unbidden to my hand, after I draw another stuttering breath. I snap the cold iron at its seams, both wrists at once.

“Please, my dearest,” Julian tries again, even as his voice cracks from the weight of his own tears. “They’ll come back…”

Heedless of the blood, I press into his side. He can’t fight the desire any more than I can and folds over me, crying into the notch of my shoulder, still begging me to go even as he holds me closer.

I don’t know how much time passes before I come back to myself. We’re alone; our friends must have decided we needed this moment. Somehow, I retained enough awareness to keep the light in my hand glowing. I set it overhead so I can wrap my arms around Julian’s neck and hug him to my chest.

He winces. I recoil; the man was just tortured, I shouldn’t be causing more damage. But he doesn’t let me retreat from his embrace.

“They didn’t get you, did they?” I can barely hear him, though we’re intertwined.

“No. Skylar, and Portia, and Balam—”

He shudders. “If they find out—”

“Yazakh’s on our side.”

“The Countess’s bodyguard?”

“They let us in.”

“Perhaps they haven’t gotten everyone, then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, darling…” Julian sighs. “My goose is cooked.”

“What? But you didn’t do it!” He’s only in danger because of Lucio’s murder charge, and we have proof that he’s innocent. Surely—

“Didn’t I?”

I rear back to stare at him, incredulous enough to stop my tears at last. “What the fuck are you talking about? Of course you didn’t. Skylar said so, and so did Lucio himself!”

“To be fair, what he said was that I didn’t help him.”

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It won’t matter.”

I shake my head. “Nadia said you’ll get a trial.”

He laughs harshly. “In front of whom? Praetor Vlastomil? I heard Vulgora send one of their soldiers off for him. He’ll listen to the loudest voice in his ear, and wouldn’t dare go against what Valdemar wanted.”

“Why does it matter what Valdemar wants? They’re not in charge.”

“I’m not so sure of that. Nadia was gone for a long time, you know. The people who, erm, who brought me here, they're no loyal Vesuvians.”

“You think Valdemar consolidated power while Nadia was in Prakra?”

“They’re perfectly capable of it.” He gestures at his plagued eye. “I, ah, I still can’t remember everything, but what Skylar said… They were planning something, back then. Three years ago. Something I got in the way of. Something they never lost the drive to complete, it seems.”

I didn’t sign up for political intrigue. But I did sign up to solve this mystery, and if that’s where the next clue leads… “So what now?”

“Erm.”

I don’t like the way he said that. “What?” I repeat, narrowing my eyes.

“Well, ah.”

“Julian, please, just tell me.”

He lets out a long breath and tips his head back to look into my eyes. “Do you remember the night we spent at Mazelinka’s?”

“Of course I remember. It was, like, days ago.”

“I woke you up with my nightmares, but I couldn’t remember them.”

“Yeah?”

“What, ah, what Skylar said. I had been ranting about a bird. A raven-headed man with his wings bound. And I, erm. There’s a… there’s a book. I— I stole it. From Asra.”

Asra. Julian had been searching for my former master when we first met.

“I saw it again when we were in the library, but I couldn’t remember until… The raven-headed man is in it, along with some, ah, other things.” He pauses, scanning my face in the silvery light of my magic, and heaves another heavy sigh before pushing on. “Tarot things.”

Tarot? Like, my kind of tarot? What could he possibly— no.

“The raven-man is the Hanged Man,” Julian says quietly. “I think I contacted him once, long ago. The book says us non-magic folks can only do that through dreams, or… or…”

People without magical abilities rarely encounter the Arcana. They have no use for each other, and most of the time can’t communicate anyway. But every so often, in the depths of a dream or when the fabric between worlds thins, preparing for a departed consciousness to cross over…

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I can’t help the volume of my outburst. He really can’t be serious.

“I have to speak to him, Reyja! I have to! I feel it in my heart, my soul, the same way I— well, the same way I knew we would have something special. But dreams turn into nightmares every time. Something’s not working with that route. This is all I have left.”

New tears spring to my eyes, but these are fueled by anger. How dare he— “You want to get hanged?”

“Of course not!” He pulls me closer at the very idea. “But the, the mark… it won’t let me do it myself.”

His words fall heavily against the stone walls around us. He would only know that if… “You—?”

“Those three years were very long, my darling. Very long and very dark, at times.”

“You tried to—?”

“Just once, at my lowest.”

I can almost feel my heart break. “Julian…”

“I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t see another—”

I cut him off, hugging him tight, like if only I squeeze hard enough, I can erase that pain. I wish I didn’t understand it, but it’s all too familiar. I never got low enough to try, but the thought lingered through so many of my days. Every time the hopelessness, the loneliness, welled up like blood in a wound, I imagined how much simpler it would be to… My tears are soaking into what’s left of his shirt, and from the trembling of his body against mine, I can tell that Julian’s crying too. I give in and let it come, wondering distantly how much more I can cry today.

But there has to be another way. I won’t let him do this. I can’t let him do this. And we aren’t alone, not anymore.

“Have you talked to Asra?” I ask thickly, after I’ve hiccuped to silence again.

“About what, darling?”

“The Hanged Man. How to contact him in a way that doesn’t involve dying.”

“Erm. Well, of course I was looking for him. But I, ah, I didn’t have much to go off of, you understand. And when I found you instead… No, I haven’t.”

“Can we at least try that?”

“If you think he would listen.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Erm… no reason.”

"Alright then.” I wipe my cheek with the back of my hand, then clear away some of his tears too. He still looks horrible, but we can't do anything about that at the moment. And in any case, there’s something a little more pressing to take care of first. “Let’s go.”

“You know where Asra is?”

“Not yet, but we’re not looking for him right now.”

“What? Why not?”

I stand up and offer him my hand. “We need to talk to Nadia.”

—————

Skylar belongs to @ollifree.

Balam belongs to @atypicalacademic.

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#cw suicidal thoughts #moth & raven #the arcana #the arcana fanfic #julian devorak #reyja north

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loveactionsspeaklouder · 4 years

Text

happy birthday

Y/N was excited for her first girls holiday, she knew it was going to be the highlight of her year. She was fully ready for all the alcohol she was about to consume, it was going to be a holiday she didn’t forget quickly. She didn’t know if she was more excited to be spending it with her best friend or getting to show off her impressive dance moves.

The dance moves were obviously a clear winner.

The two friends had promised that the holiday wouldn’t be about boys, that being something she didn’t mind at all. But she didn’t expect to fall in love, something she had never experienced before. It was an emotion she was scared off, it was an emotion she never had to deal with.

Until she went to Ibiza and met him.

Julian Brandt was a superstar footballer, looking forward to his summer break with his friends. It had been a long season for the German, he had only been in Dortmund for over a year but he was already relishing the future opportunity’s. His only thought was on football, whether it was; playing it in front of the yellow wall, scoring against an opposing team or playing FIFA with his mates at home.

That all changed when he met her.

He would have never thought that his first night on the island would involve him meeting a girl, but she wasn’t just any ordinary girl. She was a girl with; piercing blue eyes, bright blonde hair and curves in all the right places.

But he had one issue, she wasn’t interested in him.

And that annoyed him. That annoyed him more than loosing or not scoring a goal, something he thought would never be topped. He couldn’t help but want to know who the blonde was, they had only seen each other for a second but that was enough to get Julian hooked.

Y/N on the other hand didn’t want anything to do with the German, she had barely noticed the brief meeting they had just had. But she only had one person to blame for the situation she was now in; her best friend Y/BF/N had called the group over for a chat, little did she know the connection she would make with one of them.

And that was the reason why Y/N disliked the name Jonas; because if Y/BF/N had never introduced herself to the boys, she would have never met Jonas and Y/N would have never met Julian.

Only slightly was she beginning to regret this holiday.

She promised herself that for the rest of the vacation she would walk around with a pout on her lips, she managed to do that until day two. The day her life changed forever, the day she finally decided to let the boy speak to her.

And she surprisingly didn’t regret it once it happened.

Julian didn’t know how to approach Y/N; he was used to girls falling at his feet, he knew if he wanted this to be successful he was going to have to work for it. He knew he was going to have to challenge his efforts he put into football, into this girl. But he wasn’t annoyed about that; for some reason, unknown to him, he was looking forward to it.

And that excited him. He had never felt this feeling before, he was generally used to his excitement surrounding the beautiful game. But this was a different country, with a fresh challenge standing in his way. He didn’t know what he wanted the outcome to be, he only knew he had to get through the first test.

Like normal, he passed that with flying colours.

Not only had he managed a conversation with Y/N, but he had also bagged himself a date. He wasn’t sure how he accomplished that one, but he knew he had to step up his game and he had the perfect plan. Luckily for Julian he was one step ahead of his target; his best friend Jonas happened to be getting close with Y/BF/N, this meant that he had easy access to finding out information about her, a way to hopefully impress her on their date.

Game. Set. Match.

Unfortunately for him, Y/N was also smart. She had noticed all the time Julian was spending with her best friend, she knew something was funny. Typically, Y/BF/N told her everything. Which meant that when she got to her date, she knew how the conversation was going to happen. She waited up until he dropped her off at her apartment and that was when she broke the news, she didn’t expect the reaction she got.

A kiss.

But not like a normal goodbye kiss; this was passionate, fast, sloppy kiss. This was a relieved kiss. This was Julian taking a leap of faith to capture the girls heart, it was something he didn’t know he was capable off.

He was thankful it paid off.

After that night, Julian and Y/N spent every second of every single day together. When they were due to fly back to their respected countries, their goodbye rivalled that of a romantic movie. They both promised to keep in contact, hoping one day they would soon reunite.

Y/N zoned back into reality, her vision becoming much clearer when she realised where she was. Off all the days to dream, she picked this one. She never got nervous, but today was a new day. She was in a different experience feeling a fresh sensation, it was a defining day in her short but exciting life.

But she was still feeling uneasy.

She had been thinking about this moment ever since she found out it was happening, that being a mealy three days ago. Everything was moving so quick, but it was a situation she didn’t mind being in. She never thought five months ago she would be in the position she was now facing.

That being Julian’s front room, or that’s where she thought she was.

Three days ago, Y/N received a phone call from a random number. She soon found out the voices on the end of the phone belonged to Julian’s parents, they had come up with a quite brilliant but crazy plan. Their son’s birthday was coming up and they knew he only wanted one gift, to see her.

Y/N was hoping he was happy to see her, they had been in constant contact since the holiday. It was something that surprised her; although she hated to admit it, she was nervous that he wouldn’t keep in contact with her.

It now felt weird if they didn’t share a FaceTime call every night.

Y/N felt her heart beat speeding up as she heard Julian’s voice coming down the stairs, that voice was so familiar to her even if she was covered in wrapping paper. She was eagerly excited to see his face, she was praying for a wonderful reaction.

She soon felt the paper slowly tearing from her body, her nerves rising with every tear. She was soon face-to-face with those blue eyes she got used to staring at, she couldn’t help but smile at his reaction.

Julian couldn’t hide his grin as he stared at his present, it was the best gift he had ever received. He slowly moved his way towards her, instantly connecting their lips. The kiss was slow but loving; it was something that he wished he could repeat daily. He knew that he would treasure this moment for the rest of his life.

“I can’t believe you’re here, I’m so excited to see you!” Julian smiled, a smile he knew wasn’t leaving his face for a long time.

Y/N gazed at him with adoration, he still stared at her in the same way from when they first met. She was happy that she took the advice of Y/BF/N, or else this moment wouldn’t be happening.

“Happy Birthday Julian.”

#julian brandt #julian brandt imagine #football imagine #borussia dortmund

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wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

Ch.12. Blinding Blue

Blue Buttercup Almost like buttercups, it took Jaskier a lot of time and trouble to bloom and find his place in the world, but it wasn’t all so golden… (aka: yennefer was his mother way before he was jaskier)

A/N: i’m a lil behind on crossposting but hey, i fixed the cliffhanger :) @dauntless-hufflepuff-pride @mayastormborn

previous chapter

“Who the hell are you?” Yennefer snarls, instantly on her feet.

Julian whimpers again, clinging to her as if his life depends on it, his arms looped around her neck like some sort of peculiar necklace.

(It’d be her favourite necklace, of course.)

“What, Marcio didn’t mention me?” the man asks with a smirk that, in any other situation, she might simply have killed him for.

“The other mage, of course,” Yennefer mutters, stepping back as he steps down from the ladder so she can half-turn and keep Julian as far away from him as possible.

The man smiles. “Marcio’s better partner, Tymon, at your service.”

Yennefer has a dozen things she could say about his service or lack thereof but she has priorities and the child curled around her is far more important than any kind of satisfaction found in insulting others.

(She’s fleetingly shocked by how quickly Julian has become her priority.)

“What have you done to him?” she asks, her voice steady but cold.

Tymon glances over Julian with a curious smile. “That depends on what he is.”

Yennefer’s eyes narrow. “I’m not here for riddles.”

With a casual hum, Tymon walks over to the desk, chuckling when he sees the mess of her having looked through everything. “You read the journals, didn’t you?”

She frowns, tightening her grip on Julian. “You’ve been toying with things beyond your control, I’m aware. How is that relevant right now?”

The answer is obvious to her even as the words leave her mouth and Tymon must see that on her face because he just laughs, waving a hand and promptly sealing the makeshift door to the room before settling in the chair smugly.

(She hates herself for not connecting the dots sooner.)

Julian hadn’t even needed to touch or eat anything for whatever Tymon has built into the walls to take effect. It’s clever, to bring people or creatures down into a hidden room and slowly weaken them until they can be experimented on, but it’s hurting someone important to her and Yennefer will not stand for it.

“Do you expect me to applaud?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I expect you to hand over the boy.”

Julian sobs into her neck at that and she shakes her head without hesitation, her lips twisting into a snarl as she glowers at Tymon. “Over my dead body.”

She’s not expecting the other mage to try and attack her but she’s ready nonetheless, one hand stretched out in front of her to form a shield before his chaos even reaches them, the spell bouncing off them harmlessly.

Tymon’s jaw clenches as he stands, lifting his hands once again. “He’ll be more useful in my work than he’ll ever be with you!”

(She doesn’t need him to be useful.)

Yennefer just scoffs, one of her hands curling around the back of Julian’s head and gently playing with his hair to distract him from hearing anything Tymon is saying. She steps back again, this time only to brace herself properly, and smiles.

“If you’re ready for death, it’ll be my pleasure to see you off.”

Tymon scowls at her and immediately throws himself into another spell. Having anticipated that, Yennefer throws back one of her own, purple and black colliding in the middle of the room in a burst of almost blinding sparks until they implode, Tymon being thrown backwards into the shelf behind him.

Julian’s hands clench into tiny fists around her hair and Yennefer winces when one of them pulls awkwardly but she doesn’t try to untangle herself, allowing him the comfort of knowing she’s still right beside him.

(Allowing herself the same comfort in return.)

The other mage doesn’t seem to be moving so Yennefer turns back to the trapdoor, knowing that Julian needs to get out if he’s going to survive. If his life wasn’t in danger, she might even have been impressed by the standard of the subtle cage around them.

“No!” Tymon yells from behind her.

She’s too focused on figuring out their exit to notice the objects that fly towards them in time to block them all. Several books, an inkpot, a paperweight, and an empty pitcher slip through her shield, most of them hitting her but something obviously catching Julian because he cries out, his grip on her hair loosening as he starts toppling.

(She’s loath to admit her heart misses a beat.)

Cursing loudly, Yennefer stumbles and uses both arms to catch him, twisting her body as she does and then steadying him against her, tucking him into her chest, both of them breathing heavily.

“You’re wasting your time, only I can open the door again,” Tymon gloats.

Yennefer’s jaw clenches as she turns back to him. “Maybe you haven’t heard of me, I’m Yennefer of Vengerberg and I am far more powerful than the likes of you.”

Adjusting her grip on Julian, she throws a hand out, her chaos hitting Tymon directly above his heart before he can blink. He screams, his knees buckling, and mutters something under his breath that she doesn’t catch.

Though it’s not that hard to figure out what he’s done because Julian screams seconds later, a horrible noise that Yennefer would rather she’d never have known.

(Now she knows why they say ignorance can be bliss.)

“You’re okay, I’ve got you, it’s fine,” she murmurs to a now quiet Julian before turning her attention back to the trapdoor. Unfortunately, Tymon, despite having choked on his own blood and slumped to the ground as a result of his own arrogance, was right: the seal does seem to be linked to his magic.

Yennefer quickly concludes that it’d be far easier to overcome his seal if she had both hands. Gritting her teeth, she keeps one arm firmly wrapped around Julian, who’s worryingly limp at this point, and places her other hand on the trapdoor above them.

And pushes.

The door doesn’t give but she wasn’t really expecting it to so she just pushes with her magic as well as her fingers, stubbornly pressing chaos into the stupid seal even as she feels her knees weakening and beads of sweat rolling down the sides of her face.

(She’d rather die than let Julian do the same.)

She keeps pushing and she’s not sure if she’s actually yelling or just imagining it but just as her vision starts to black out, the seal shatters and the door finally, finally gives, splintering upwards.

Yennefer pants, stumbling up the last few steps and all but collapsing onto the half-dusty rug, Julian lying still on her chest as he goes down with her. It takes her a long moment to even register his presence, her head still pounding and her eyes still ringing, but she pushes herself upright again as soon as she does.

“Julian? Julian, hey, open your eyes,” she whispers furiously, gently shaking his shoulders.

(She definitely doesn’t panic at the sight of his pale face.)

“Come on, little one, that’s it. Open your eyes for me,” she continues, managing a smile as his eyes scrunch up and he groans softly.

He coughs before he follows her instructions, his hands reaching upwards. “Yenny?”

Relief floods into her heart at the sound of his voice and she nods even though he can’t see it, allowing him to curl his fingers around her own. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

It takes several long moments for him to finally open his eyes and the first thing he does is frantically look around until his gaze settles on her, at which point he grins weakly but still widely enough for her to be sure he’s not dying.

(Never has she appreciated the colour blue so much.)

“Can we go home?” Julian asks her, climbing into her lap with tears shining in his eyes.

Yennefer frowns for a moment, and then frowns again when she realises that he’s referring to her cottage, that he considers home to be with her. She makes a mental note to worry more about that later and nods at him, exhaling softly as feeling finally returns to her exhausted limbs.

“That sounds like a good plan,” she agrees. Julian wraps his limbs around her again in response and without meaning to, she cradles him close, too tired to question how and why she’s become so strongly attached to this random child.

(She's not entirely opposed to be honest.)

sorry if it was lowkey anticlimactic, action is not my friend :p

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

#jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #hurt jaskier #protective yennefer #good parent yennefer #young jaskier #au #fluff and angst #fanfic #the witcher #my writing #bbu

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ourardenoliver · 3 years

Text

Second Chances | | A + Julian

WHEN: late 2018

LOCATION: Octavia restaurant and other locations, California

NB: after having been at Monarch University for a few months, Arden agrees to a blind date that’s organised by one of her classmates. the date itself is a disaster and as she goes to leave for the night, she runs into her high school ex-boyfriend @juliantaylor. It’s the first time that she’s seen him since their breakup. note: this is an ongoing chatzy and will be updated as we go.

Arden was still fairly new at Monarch University and had allowed one of her classmates to set her up on a blind date. She had high hopes at the start of the evening, especially as her date had booked them a table at Octavia, however the night had just gone downhill from there. The man had drunk too much, had political opinions that Arden strongly disagreed with, and some of his attitudes towards women were slightly archaic. Arden had politely declined his offer of a ride home, not wanting to spend another minute with him, and was now waiting outside the restaurant for her Uber to arrive.

Julian hated to admit it, but he spent quite some time thinking about his ex-girlfriend, for years now. The girl continued to occupy his mind, even way after the fact of their breakup; she was the only one to have that effect on him. And although he was certain she didn't keep tabs on him, he kept tabs on her. There were still a few mutual classmates from high school that followed her on social media, classmates that he was still fairly acquainted with -- which is why it wasn't so hard for him to find the girl. He had been in California for training that week, but made it a point to ask his trainer to find a gym in San Diego, so he can be close by. It was only merely a coincidence that the two had been in Octavia at the same time. Him being there for a professional dinner with his trainers and agent, and her being there for what was obviously a date. And a bad one, at that. She didn't notice him, but he sure as hell noticed her...which is why he subtly excused himself from the table before following her out of the restaurant. "That dick didn't say anything to you, right?" He asked, not even bothering to greet her.

Arden would recognise that voice anywhere, no matter how much time had passed since she had last seen him. Julian was her first love and her first heartbreak -- and as much as she wished that it wasn't the case, he still had a hold on her. It was surprising that she hadn't noticed him in the restaurant but as she turned to face him, she realised that was probably a good thing. He looked amazing right now and if she had seen him inside the venue, she wouldn't have been able to keep her attention on her date. "No, he didn't. If you must know, we're just not a match. He couldn't handle his liquor, his political ideologies clash with mine, and he thinks that women belong in the kitchen, not the court room", Arden informed him. "You can head back to whatever you were doing, you don't have to defend my honour". It said a lot about their dynamic that she wasn't even surprised that he was there, used to Julian showing up at the most bizarre of times.

Seeing Arden in the flesh for the first time in god knowns how long...well, lets just say it felt surreal to the man. It hadn't been the first time the two saw each other after their breakup, and yet every single time he knew that there was still something between them. Whether she wanted to admit it, or not, he knew he still had /some/ effect on her. He buttoned up his dress jacket, chuckling softly as she went on to explain what exactly went wrong with her date. "I don't know, you never had a problem being in the kitchen when I was around." He said cheekily, recalling one of the many moments they had together in high school. "So you're not going to question how we both ended up here at the same time, after all these years?"

Arden groaned and rolled her eyes at the cheeky comment. "Well, I made a lot of mistakes with you", Arden retorted. "You seem to have this uncanny ability of showing up unexpectedly, Julian. It's like you have this sixth sense for whenever I might finally be moving on so you show up to try and reel me back in. I don't know if you've realised this but even when you don't want me, you hate the idea of other people wanting me", she pointed out. "Since my Uber isn't here yet, I'll bite. What are you doing here? How have we both ended up here at the same time, after all these years?"

Julian raised a brow at her argument, shaking his head in amusement. "Now, I wouldn't ever really categorize orgasms as being mistakes." He argued back. As much as she hated it, he /loved/ going back and forth with her like this. It was like it gave him a high that drugs couldn't. Her next statement hit close to home, because she was right. He /hated/ seeing her with other people, just the thought of it alone made him sick. But he didn't want her, not in /that/ way, not in the way she needed or wanted. So he simply just ignored the statement. If he didn't respond, did they really speak about it? His eyes trailed down her body once more, taking in her curves in that dress. "I'm here for you." He said softly, the words rolling off the tip of his tongue naturally. He took a few steps closer to her, his eyes remaining fixed on her at all times. "I was hoping we can talk. I miss you, babe."

"Continually going back to you, despite the fact that you were happily giving orgasms to anyone that you found attractive, was the mistake", Arden responded. She always told herself that she wouldn't waste time arguing with Julian as it never got them anywhere, yet he knew how to push her buttons better than anyone else. "Besides, you aren't the only person that's capable of getting me off", she added. It was technically a lie -- Julian remained the only person that she had slept with but he didn't need to know that. Her pulse started to race as he stepped closer to her, even as she told herself not to believe it; not to buy into what he was saying. "I'm assuming that you drove yourself here, right? You can drive me home and you can have the duration of said car ride to talk, not a minute more".

Julian let out a deep sigh in response to her words. "It wasn't like that..." He trailed off, giving himself some time to come up with a good enough response for her. This was always the argument they got into - probably the only thing they ever did argue about. "Maybe not. But I'd bet money that I'm the only one who can make you feel certain things others can't." He whispered, his eyes slowly flickering back and forth between her lips and her eyes. The man knew this was bold of him, and that this probably wasn't the time to be attempting to get at her - and yet, he didn't care. He took a moment to consider her offer. It wasn't what he wanted in that moment, but at this moment he would take anything he can get. He knew how to wisely pick his battles. Pushing his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys to the rental he had for that weekend. "Start the car. I just have to say goodbye to a few people." He said as he handed her the keys, all before turning on his heels and walking back into the restaurant.

“It doesn't matter anymore. It's in the past and we're not together so it's not like it's going to happen again", Arden said simply. Her breath hitched slightly and her cheeks flushed a light pink in response to his words, making it impossible to deny the truth in what he was saying. "I... I wouldn't know. I haven't actually gotten that far with anyone since you", she quietly admitted, glancing away in embarrassment. She was surprised when he gave her the car keys without any further argument before disappearing back into the restaurant to say goodbye to whoever he was with. Julian was usually the one that called the shots within their relationship so it was surprising that hadn't argued with her; still, she made her way over to the car and waited for him in the passenger seat.

"Mhm." Julian simply hummed in response to her words. He came to see her one last time, to see what she had been up to lately. But more importantly, although he would never admit it to both himself and to her, he was there to make sure that nobody had replaced him. That /he/ remained her one and only. Because at the end of the day, there was a part of him that loved being loved by her - and there was a part of him that missed being loved by her. He gently stroked his hand down her cheek, turning her head so that she would look up at him. His efforts were matched with some resistance as she glanced away from him. "Why?" He asked curiously. Arden was a beautiful girl, and even he knew that she had the ability to get anyone if she put herself out there. Julian walked back into the resturant to say his goodbyes to his trainers, granting them a quick two minute discussion about when, where, and what time they would be meeting the following morning, and throughout the duration of his stay in California. After saying his goodbyes, he made his way back to the car. He unbuttoned his dress jacket and took it off before climbing into the drivers seat of the black bmw, making himself comfortable as the gently tossed the piece of material towards the backseat. "Where am I taking you?" He asked simply as he put on his seat belt, putting the car in reverse and beginning to pull out of the big parking lot.

Arden knew that Julian didn't love her in the way that she needed, nor the way that she deserved. He loved her in the same way that her father loved her -- she was a possession, a prize. It wasn't authentic and she knew that, yet he still had this power over her and they both knew it. Whilst she wanted to avoid his gaze, she reluctantly allowed him to guide her face so that she was looking up at him. "Sex means something to me. I lost my virginity to you because I was in love with you. I haven't met anyone that I've really cared about since then, nor someone that I find so ridiculously attractive that I'm willing to try the one night stand thing with". It didn't take long for Julian to join her in the car. "I'm living in the Theta Phi Kappa house".

Julian release a soft sigh, simply nodding his head in response. "Sex with /you/ meant something to me, too." He said in the gentlest tone, showing some emotion without making himself appear too vulnerable. The man turned on the radio so that light music was playing in the background, providing each of them a small distraction so that they didn't sit in the agony silence. He simply just drove anywhere, but specifically to the one place he can somewhat recall direction to -- his hotel. "I have no idea where that is. I think you're forgetting that I'm not from around here." He said with a light chuckle, there being no heat behind his words. "Why don't we go back to the hotel? It'll be more private there, and it'll actually put my money to use." He softly laughed once more.

“Just not enough”, Arden said quietly, more to herself than anything else. She knew Julian well enough to know that he’d side-step the uncomfortable topic. She sang softly along with the radio before laughing when he pointed out that she had forgotten that he wasn’t from here. “Right, of course. I’ve done a terrible job at navigating”, she conceded, having given absolutely no directions. She paused for a moment, considering his suggestion before nodding her head. “Fine but I’m not staying and we’re definitely not sleeping together. I’ll catch an Uber home once we’ve finished talking”.

#chatzy #c: julian #ongoing chatzy

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dhwty-writes · 4 years

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Chapter 3 - A Broken Day

Looks like we continue in the 4k words range. Looks like we also continue churning out daily chapters. I just want to inform you that this is not my normal modus operandi. Not that I am not pleasantly surprised. For those of you who are curious, I took Castle Eltz as a large inspiration for Lettenhove, though the colouring is more like Schloss Hohentübingen. Check both of them out, they are beautiful! This is also the chapter I am most unsure about until now so let me know what you think or if you're interested in betaing this fic!

Summary: Geralt has been in Lettenhove for less than a day and he is already done with it. And - who would have guessed it? - it can get even worse.

part 1 | part 3 | part 5

Read on AO3

Geralt slammed the door to the study shut behind him. He had been in Lettenhove Hall for less than a day and he already had enough of it. He fucking hated that everyone in this castle took the opportunity to just order him around whenever it presented itself. And not just that: there was absolutely nothing he could do about it!

He grunted in frustration and began the quite long way back to his rooms. 'Bastard,' he thought as he began climbing down the stairwell that led back to the courtyard. It was very obviously that his presence in Lettenhove Hall was only tolerated. If it hadn't been already by curtesy of Jaskier’s treatment, the fact that he had lodged them as far away from his own quarters in the east wing as possible without depositing him with the servants in the west, was a pretty strong indicator. At least he doubted that they were given the rooms above the gate house for the nice view on the town that lay to the south of the castle.

They were nice rooms, though, and by now he was fairly certain that Jaskier wouldn't throw Ciri out for his disobedience but that said nothing about him. No, if he was honest with himself, he was pretty sure his not-friend would be delighted to show him the door and if it was just to show him that he could. Or at least that was what he thought.

He pushed a door open and stumbled into the daylight. Only that he hadn't landed in the courtyard but on the gallery one floor above. With a wall on the other side. And no stairs. Great. He turned back inside. Now he'd taken the wrong turn, too. Lettenhove, while much smaller than Kaer Morhen, was no less a labyrinth as he discovered - and nearly as much an enigma as its master.

Because that was another huge fucking problem. Whenever he thought he finally caught a glimpse of Jaskier behind that facade, it vanished just as quickly. Whenever he thought he could finally pin down Jaskier's motivation or thoughts, they were contradicted the next moment. 'He changed a lot in those past eighteen months,' he thought angrily and stopped in his tracks. 'Or was I just too dumb to notice?'

He frowned and started pacing. Probably the latter. Since his arrival the previous evening he had learned more about Jaskier than in the last decade or so. His father was dead and his mother, too - at least there was no trace of a Lady Pankratz in the castle. He knew that he was a benevolent lord - that was no surprise - though strict - that very much was. He had learned that Jaskier had not only one but four sisters, two of whom were married and did not live in Lettenhove and one who was also married and vied for Jaskier's title. And that he knew how to fake various documents entirely too well for any law-abiding citizen.

That meant that he probably didn't know Jaskier half as well as he had imagined himself to. 'Great.'

He had also learned that he was apparently in some kind of mood today which struck him as odd. Geralt knew plenty of Jaskier's moods, of his thoughts that were too fast for his mouth to keep up, of his vanishing thoughts, of his laziness and his stories that always took two dozen detours as well as his mouth that spoke without thinking. He had lived through all of them - and not minded half as much as he'd always said. And today there had been no sign of any mood. 'Great,' he thought, 'so he's learned to hide that, too.'

"Sir?"

"What?" Geralt whipped around. It was that man again, the one who had come to him in the morning already to tell him that ‘His Lordship ordered that you cease your pacing at once’.

"I was told to inform you, witcher-"

"That's not my name," he growled.

The man blinked stupidly. Actually, he looked really stupid in general. 'This must be the most boring person in the world,' he thought as he took in the grey-haired man with the greyish skin wearing a grey doublet and grey breeches. "I'm afraid, we have not been introduced yet."

"Geralt of Rivia."

"Of course," he straightened his doublet. "At request of his Lordship, I find myself pressed to direct you to the stables."

Now it was Geralt who was blinking stupidly. "What? Why?"

"His Lordship demanded that in case you started pacing again, you would be sent to the stables. He also said that you are better talking to horses than people and that at least you won't scare them with your lack of social abilities."

Geralt was positively fuming. "Jaskier-" he growled. He would really like to strangle the bard right then. "Go tell his Lordship to go fuck himself."

The man looked appalled. "I would rather not. I prefer to avoid his anger. Though I can send an armed escort and you can go tell himself. If that is your wish, witcher. Still, I would advise a more peaceful approach to your stay in his Lordship's home."

Geralt frowned. 'You're forgetting who you're talking to,' he remembered Jaskier's words. "Right," he said. He might be fairly sure that Jaskier wouldn't throw Ciri out again, still he should know better than picking fights the first day. 'You know Jaskier,' he told himself, 'just trying to rile you up. He'll have forgiven you before you know it.'

He took a deep breath to clear the anger from his mind. "I know where the stables are."

The man smiled. "I'll just make sure you arrive there, too."

Geralt rolled his eyes and grunted, turning to the stairs leading to the courtyard. 'A bloody escort,' he thought, weaving through the small corridors, 'fucking great.'

The courtyard was just as awe-inspiringly beautiful as he remembered from the previous day with the only difference that there were a lot more people about now in the afternoon. Just as he stepped outside, he saw Jaskier in front of the stables, wearing all black riding clothes.

'Don't touch Roach,' was the first thing he thought when he saw him with the chestnut mare, petting her and sneaking her treats.

'Be careful,' he thought next when he put the reins over her neck, to grab them and the horn of the saddle with one hand and the back with the other.

His breath hitched when Jaskier brought his left foot to the stirrup and hoisted himself up. He half expected him to keel over to the other side or the horse to throw him right off again or anything else horrible- None of that happened. The horse just snickered quietly and he leaned over her neck to pet her and whisper encouraging words into her ear.

Then the gates opened and Geralt's thoughts stopped working for a bit. Jaskier clicked his tongue loudly and pressed his heels to her flanks. A moment later he was off down the road and Geralt could do nothing but stare after him and- stare. 'Jaskier can ride,' he realised very belatedly. And fuck, he rode like a madman, too.

He was still staring and wondering where he might be off to, when his attention was recaptured by the grey man who was walking to the stables. "Wiktor," he demanded, "come out here!"

A man who was roughly about Geralt's height stepped outside with an annoyed expression on his face, rolling his eyes at the grey man and looking Geralt up and down. "You're the witcher?"

"Geralt of Rivia."

"Wiktor. You can go now," He told Geralt's escort and tilted his head. "The Viscount said you know horses?"

"Have had quite a few."

The stablemaster scoffed. "That bad, huh?"

It took Geralt a while to understand what the man was saying. Then he snorted. "Horses don't even last a human lifetime. Never mind a witcher's."

"How old are you?"

Geralt thought for a moment. "Old."

Wiktor snorted "Wouldn't have guessed it. Come, I'll introduce you to their majesties."

By ‘their majesties’ Wiktor meant, to Geralt's relief, the resident horses in Lettenhove. There were ten in total, six belonging to the general garrison and four that could count as true nobility. The old dark palfrey of the late Viscount Alfred had seen better days but the chestnut mare belonging to one of Jaskier's sisters was true beauty. “His Lordship just took the other one,” Wiktor informed him. “They’re twins.” Geralt nodded, wondering what he would have to do to ride one of them.

"And that," Wiktor concluded and strolled over to a beautiful white yearling, "is our newest addition. Master- sorry, Lord Julian's new horse. His name's Pegasus."

Geralt snorted and let the gelding nuzzle his shoulder.

"Ridiculous name, I know."

"He’s Jas- Lord Julian's horse. Could've been worse."

Wiktor snuck Pegasus a treat. "Your horses had names?"

"Roach," he answered.

"And the others?"

"Roach."

He frowned. "All of them?"

"Hm."

That earned him a laugh. "And you mock him for Pegasus? That's hardly fair."

Geralt was still thinking about how to answer that when Wiktor clapped him on the back. "You can start brushing them out, if you want. The lads neglect that normally. You know how?"

"Sure."

"Good. Equipment's in the back." He left him, so Geralt was on his own to figure out where exactly said back with the equipment was, but he quickly found hard and soft brushes as well as a curry comb and got to work.

When he was done with the first two horses, he was still wondering what kind of bizarre punishment this was supposed to be. After finishing the fourth, he was pretty sure it wasn't a punishment at all.

He was quite content to spend the rest of his day like that until the blessed silence was - of course - interrupted by a Pankratz sibling: "Stefan, where's my- Stefan! Gods, where is that useless boy- oh!"

Geralt turned around and saw Jaskier's younger sister standing in the doorway, dressed in black riding clothes. It was remarkable how little and yet how much she looked like her elder brother. Her face was rounder still, as was all of her, truth be told, and her hair golden instead of brown, yet she had the same blue eyes all the Pankratz siblings seemed to share. And he'd be damned if the smile wasn't exactly the same.

"Witcher," she greeted him with that familiar smile.

"I'm not Stefan.” He offered a little bow. "My lady."

"I know. He's one of the stable hands. Though it is just as fine that I am stumbling upon you. I didn't expect to find you down here. Whatever are you doing here?"

Geralt grunted and moved to turned continue brushing the horse.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

Of course. Why would Jaskier's sister know when to shut the fuck up? "Got told off for pacing."

That made her laugh, though it was a puzzle to him why that should be funny. "And who would dare to send the White Wolf muck out stables?"

"Didn't ask for a name."

"Of course, you didn't." For him the conversation was done. Still, she looked at him expectantly. When he failed to give a satisfactory - or any - answer, she asked: "Well, what did the gentleman - or lady - in question look like?"

He shrugged. "Normal man. Middle aged. Grey hairs. Boring."

She laughed again. Was she mocking him? But there was no trace of that to be found, only true amusement. "You wouldn't be talking about our dear Jakub, would you?" This time, thankfully, she didn't wait for an answer: "Though boring does describe him rather well. He is my brother's manservant, almost never leaves his side. Though what Julek sees in him I can't tell."

Geralt frowned. "Hm." Was she insinuating that Jaskier and Jakub were- involved? The plain man was so unlike Jaskier's other conquests; he would have sooner guessed him to have taken a tumble with Wiktor.

"Anyways, if you wish to be relieved from your dreary punishment, consider it done. I am sure you could imagine much more interesting activities."

"I like horses," he answered. Being in the stables was probably the least 'dreary' activity in the castle - besides spending time with Ciri.

"How about you come with me for a ride, then? That way you can be with horses and tell me about some of your adventures."

'Gods, no.' The mere thought was mortifying. "I like the quiet."

"Oh, I can be quiet. I won't be-"

"-but silent back-up, yes, I know." He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Physical dissimilarities be damned, that was definitely Jaskier's sister. 'Melitele save me.' "I would to prefer to stay here, my lady."

"And let me ride alone, you brute?" She even pouted like Jaskier. "What if some kind of scoundrel tries to endanger my virtue?"

"I can fetch you a guard if you're worried."

"Well, you're no fun at all!"

"If you want to be entertained, maybe you should employ a juggler."

"You’re rude!" she declared. "Julek has got a terrible taste in men. I don't know what he sees in you, either."

A snort echoed through the stables. "As if yours is any better," Jaskier answered. "As if yours isn't the same. Back off, Józefa, my witcher has standards."

There was an odd warm feeling in the pit of his stomach when Jaskier called him his witcher and he found himself distracted for a moment by the sight of him. The Lord of Lettenhove leaned against a wooden pillar, his doublet nearly completely undone under his cloak and his hair windswept with the occasional leaf stuck in it. His left hand rested on the pommel of his sword. 'Wonder if he knows how to use it.'

"Obviously not very high ones," Józefa's words brought him back to reality. "Don't you have any decency, brother?"

"That goes without saying." Jaskier sauntered over to them, closing the buttons. "He only takes a tumble with powerful witches who could - and would - kill him with the flick of a wrist. And for your information, I do. I am a viscount, after all."

"A friend, I suppose?"

"More of an acquaintance of mine. You would like her, though. Magical gossip is even better than normal one."

‘Wait, what-?’ He stared at Jaskier. He hadn’t thought too much of it when he had told him about Yennefer the previous day, but that almost sounded like they had talked to each other only recently. ‘That almost sounds like they like each other.’

Józefa scrunched her nose and turned back to Geralt. "So, about that ride-"

"Not interested," he grunted. "My lady."

Jaskier cackled gleefully. "Told you."

She shut him up with a dark look. "And you would know plenty about his disinterest, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe I do." He waved her off with a hand. "Off you go, Józefa. Your horse is waiting outside. She's a bit slow, though."

She scowled and for a moment Geralt thought she might start shouting at him. To his surprise, she just pecked her brother on the cheek. "See you at dinner, Julek." With that she was off and there was blessed silence again.

At least until he broke it: "Is she always like this?" he heard himself asking. "My lord."

"That is none of your business, witcher." Geralt nearly flinched at the coldness in his voice. "Just do all of us a favour and do not fuck my sister. Neither of them."

Geralt frowned. 'Weird to hear that advice from Jaskier.' "Didn't plan on it," he answered.

Jaskier turned to face him and tilted his head.

"My lord," he added.

Still, the viscount did not stop staring, measuring him with his glare like some- some- "Walk up and down the aisle," he commanded.

"I'm not some kind of dancing bear you can make walk on his hind legs on command."

"Just do it, witcher."

He stared at him, trying to get him to relent, but Jaskier didn't even blink. Geralt bristled with anger and pushed past him, but did as he was told all the same.

When he stopped in front of him again, Jaskier still stared at him. "How long since the fight?" he simply asked.

"You, b-" He looked around as if he was searching for onlookers. Safe for the horses they were alone. "How did you-"

"Just answer the question.”

Geralt ground his teeth. "Four days, my lord."

Jaskier snorted and started walking. "Come."

He hesitated only a moment before following the command. "Where are we going?"

"Back to your room," Jaskier snarled. This time Geralt did flinch. He had never witnessed such pure and unadulterated anger in his bard.

They covered the short distance from the stables in the West Wing to Geralt's room above the gatehouse in silence save for the time when Jaskier flagged down a servant to utter an order.

Only when the door fell shut behind them, did he start talking: "I can't believe you haven't told me before!", Jaskier hissed.

"There wasn't really an opportunity for that." After a moment he added: "My lord."

"Nonsense," he declared. There was a sharp knock on the door and a moment later an elderly woman entered and bowed to them both.

"My lord," she said, "are you unwell?"

"No," answered and pointed at Geralt. "He is."

"I-" Geralt started and was promptly interrupted again: "Sit down, shut up and let her do her work," Jaskier ordered. "You're hurt, don't pretend you're not."

Without thinking he did as he was told. If he was completely honest, his injuries from the fight did still hurt. They would heal on their own, of course, but maybe a healer wasn't the worst idea.

"Fiona?" was all that Jaskier asked.

"Next door, my lord."

"I expect to see you at dinner," he said and left the room.

Geralt looked up at the healer and quirked an eyebrow. She crossed her arms. "What are you waiting for, lad?" she croaked. "Get undressed, I can't see your injuries with your clothes on!"

He sighed. He should probably get used to being ordered around. He suffered through the whole healing session silently, only sometimes answering her questions and completely ignoring her tuts about all his scars and how badly most of them had healed. When she was probing at a particularly nasty one, he raised his head in exasperation: "His lordship's responsible for that one."

She clicked her tongue. "Of course, he is. Master Julian has never been good at sewing." She prodded at the newest one, still not quite healed and probably a bit infected. "You really should take better care of yourself, young man."

He wanted to retort that he was probably far older that her but she raised her hand. "Ah ah ah! No protesting!" She started rummaging around in the oversized bag she had brought, putting selves on the nightstand next to his bed and explaining their uses - which he knew already. Still, he found himself too dumbstruck to say anything. She glared at him and threw his breeches again. "You can get dressed again. I'm done." With that she turned to leave.

"Wait!" he called after her when she was already at the door. "I have no coin to pay you."

She tutted again. "Silly witcher. Master Julian has paid already." With that he left Geralt alone to get dressed and once more reassess Jaskier's intentions.

"Geralt?" There was a timid knock on his door, accompanied by Ciri's frail voice.

"Yeah," he sat up and quickly pulled a shirt over his head. "Come on in."

The door opened just a bit and she slipped inside.

"How was your day?" he asked once she was comfortably settled against him and he had one arm around her.

"Fine," she said, "I think I like Józefa. She smiles a lot. And the woman who met us at the gate yesterday spent a lot of time with me today. Look, she even did my hair!" She displayed the braided bun proudly.

"Hm. You like that?"

"I think so."

"Good."

"Julian came talk to me, too."

"Jul-? Ah. And?"

"I don't know. He was weird."

"Weird how?" Geralt frowned. "Was he mean?" 'Jaskier, if you fuck this up-'

"No, I don't think so. Just weird. Not like yesterday. He got down to his knees and called me princess and all that. He also smiled a lot and told me of his plan and all. He was pretty nice."

Geralt blinked in confusion. "What's the problem then?"

She chewed her lip. He had given up trying to correct her. "I think he doesn't like me."

That startled him even more. Jaskier did not just not like people. Jaskier liked everybody. And everybody liked Jaskier in return. Those, at least, who didn't have to spend more than ten minutes at a time with him. "Why would you think that?"

"He doesn't like you."

"That's-" Geralt faltered. '- true, probably.' He sighed. They did not have the time to lead that conversation. Nor did he have the nerves. "Jas- Lord Pankratz asked us to join him for dinner. We should be polite guests and hurry. It's not nice to be late." He got up and pulled Ciri on her feet.

"I hate dinners," she complained.

"Me too," he agreed. "But it will make Lord Pankratz happy."

It was already dark outside when they walked back to the East Wing, where dinner was usually eaten as Ciri informed him. He nearly cursed. 'How come she knows twice as much as me about Lettenhove already?'

She took him by the hand and led him into the building and up a flight of stairs from where he could already hear the sounds of cutlery on plates and the occasional thunk of a wine goblet. No talking, though.

A servant opened the door for them and even those sounds stopped. The three Pankratz siblings were all sitting at the long table staring in long distances and pulling long tables. 'And that is why I fucking hate family affairs,' Geralt thought.

"I don't think it makes Lord Pankratz happy," Ciri whispered entirely too loud and he nearly winced as the silence carried the words through the hall.

That at least startled some life into their hosts. Janina gasped indignantly and Jaskier frowned, opening the mouth to say something. It was Józefa, however, who beat him to it. "Don't mind my brother," she said with a bright smile, "he's in a terrible mood today. This lady Pankratz, however, makes your presence very happy. Come sit with me, Cousin Fiona?"

Cousin Fiona. Right. They had roles to play. Ciri moved and sat down next to Józefa. She even smiled a bit.

That meant that for him there was one seat left, exactly- 'Fuck.'

"Saved you a seat," Jaskier said and pointed to the place between himself and his elder sister. The words were innocent enough, yet his voice was cold as ice.

Geralt was slow to move, cautiously looking back and forth between the stony masks that were the faces of the two older siblings. "My lady," he said to Janina as he pulled the chair back. "My lord," and sat down. He didn't know what was worse: the complete and utter ignorance of Janina or the nigh unnoticeable flare of Jaskier's nostrils. He decided that he didn't like either one very much.

He and Ciri were quickly served their food but if he had hoped that that would maybe lighten the mood or - something, he was promptly corrected. Józefa tried to strike up a conversation once in a while, always promptly smothered by Janina's resolution to ignore Jaskier and Geralt and Jaskier's to return the favour. Geralt wasn't much more talkative either. 'And it isn't like Ciri's shyness helps.'

He had hoped that they would get out of it quickly. He had been wrong. There was a whole fucking feast prepared for their arrival. And they suffered through the whole ordeal in silence. 'If Ciri thought Jaskier was weird before,' he mused, 'I wonder how she would describe this.'

He looked pityingly at his child surprise who sat miserably across from him as if that could tell him her thoughts. 'I should probably teach her some proper swearwords beforehand, though.'

#my writing #of witchers bards and broken hearts #OWBABH #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #cirilla

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