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lunastarhawk · 8 days

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You can just have it

“You don’t need to earn affection, Julian. You can just… have it.”

I tripped and 2300 words of fluff fell out, oops.

Part of the Between the Deep Blue Sea and the Devil collection of Altheia-flavoured rewrites of particular scenes in Julian's route. This is the scene at Portia's cottage in Book VIII chapter 3. Wasn't sure whether to post it as it feels personal to me but the collection wouldn't be complete without it, so here it is.

Important note! This is angst-scented fluff but the full collection on AO3 contains scenes that are very 18+, please don't go there if you're a minor.

For a while, as Altheia had sat with Julian and Portia, listening to Julian’s tales of adventure and Portia’s childhood stories, the light-hearted bickering between the siblings, and tentative thoughts of the future, she almost forgot why they were there. That they’d had to escape from the library after nearly being caught there by the Countess; that Julian had a key in his pocket that he couldn’t remember but which he knew was important somehow ; that he was a fugitive, on the run for murder. That she, hired by the Countess to bring Julian to justice, was instead helping him; and if they were caught, she could hang on the gallows alongside him.

But here, sitting on benches outside Portia’s cottage, laughing and eating in the warm evening air, that all seemed distant. They were family. They were home. And Julian was happy . With every smile, every laugh, every pantomimed offence taken at Portia’s stories, and every theatrical gesture accompanying his stories, the fondness and affection that Altheia felt for him grew, her heart swelled.

Eventually, Portia left them and went to bed. Altheia looked over at Julian. Leaning back against the wall of the cottage, the soft light of the fireflies dancing over his features, his hand running idly over Pepi, Portia’s cat, curled up on his lap. The corners of his mouth were slightly lifted in a smile of contentment as he, too, just for a moment, forgot the truth of their situation. The auburn curls of the forelock of his hair drifted down over his right eye, his eyelids were dark and heavy, the breeze ruffling the collar of his shirt against his long, pale neck.

He was beautiful.

With a sigh, he turned to look at her, the back of his head still against the wall. He looked into her eyes for a moment, contemplatively, and then he lifted his arm towards her in tentative invitation. Pepi stretched and jumped off his lap as Altheia sat beside him, he draped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her close, and she slipped her hand inside the open front of his shirt, spreading her fingers through the soft hairs, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the strong and steady beat of his heart. She felt his nose brush along the centre part of her hair, his lips press a kiss there.

“This is nice,” she said eventually.

“Mmm. It is.” His hand moved to her thigh, and a heat rose up in her. But that heat was quenched as quickly as it had risen when he said, “Shame it can’t last.”

“Can’t it?”

“Can it?”

Altheia pushed back from him, rest a hand on his cheek and turned him to face her. A shadow of sorrow had passed over his countenance, and she sighed softly as his gaze dropped.

She slid slightly along the bench away from him, then patted her lap.

“Come here. Lie back.”

He blinked at her in surprise, then smiled and twisted around, pulling up his legs to rest booted feet on the bench and laying on his back, resting his head in her lap and wriggling in until he was comfortable, one leg bent up, the other dangling off the edge of the bench. Altheia returned her hand to his chest, the other in the thick waves of his hair. Silence fell between them, as Altheia slowly ran his hair between her fingers, lightly scraped his scalp with her short nails, looking down fondly as his eyelids slid shut.

“If I was a cat, I’d purr,” he murmured sleepily. And then, despite not being a cat, he made a sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth that did sound remarkably like a purr, and Altheia laughed.

After a few minutes, he quietly said,

“I wish it could.”

“Hmm?”

“Last. I wish it could last. I wish… I wish I was a better man. Someone who deserved it.”

A lump of sorrow rose to Altheia’s throat, and she brushed Julian’s hair back from his forehead. She ran her forefinger along the top edge of his eye patch, eyebrows raised questioningly when he looked at her. He nodded with an uncertain smile, and she gently removed the patch. Julian blinked and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand as it adjusted to the light. Now, when he looked back at her, she could see the depths of both of his eyes, the crimson sclera that many feared or found shocking but which she saw as a scar of a battle he’d fought and won, of his strength.

“What do you want?” she asked. “When this is all over, when we’ve found the truth, proved that you didn’t kill the Count, proven to you that you didn’t do the bad things that you think you did. What then?”

“What do I want? What does it matter what I want?”

Altheia ran her finger down Julian’s jaw, along his bottom lip. “You’ll have to do something . Go somewhere. Be someone.”

A faint frown touched his brow. “I uh. I don’t know. I've never thought about it. I was sure I'd hang , and there's not much of a future after your neck snaps, you know.”

Altheia tutted disapprovingly. And then waited, her fingers lightly tracking the sharp contours of his face, watching the thoughts running behind Julian’s eyes as he looked up at the stars.

Eventually, he tentatively started,

“Do you think…” He shook his head as if frustrated with himself. “No, I couldn’t. No. I can’t think like that.”

“Humour me.”

“Hmm?” He looked up at her, puzzled.

“Pretend that you think you can . What do you want?”

“This.” His voice was very small, strained, as if he didn’t dare to hope. “I want this. With you, and… and what Pasha has. A… a home.”

He closed his eyes, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

Altheia smiled gently, resting her palm over his cheek. He sighed and nuzzled into it. Her heart pounded with a kind of excitement, a surge of nervous happiness that he’d said he wanted her . Almost without thinking, so self-absorbed that he hadn’t even realised the effect his words could have on her.

“Why can’t you have it?”

“I don’t deserve it. I’ve done nothing to earn your… your affection, your feelings, for me, whatever they may be.”

“You don’t need to earn affection, Julian. You can just… have it.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a small, sad smile. “Is that so.”

It wasn’t a question, not really. It was a statement that she was wrong, that it wasn’t so, that he couldn’t just have affection. Altheia looked down at him, at his head cradled in her lap. His gaze drifted, breath exhaled in a soft sigh through his nose.

“Yes, Julian. It’s so.”

He turned his eyes back up to her with a slight shake of his head, almost as if pitying her naivety. The fingertips of his left hand brushed over the backs of her knuckles, of the hand resting on his chest. There was a wistfulness to his tone as he quietly said,

“My dear, everything has to be earned one way or another.”

Her heart ached for him. She turned her hand over and curled her fingers around his. Only then did she realise how rare it was for one or other of them to not be wearing gloves. Of course, his were to cover the murderer’s brand on the back of his left hand; but he didn’t need to hide it from her. Now, she ran her fingertips in slow circles around his large, cool palm, tracing the lines, creases and callouses of a life lived. With another faint sigh, he brought her hand to his lips. Seizing the moment, with one eyebrow raised, she said,

“Do I have to earn it?”

Julian froze with his lips against her knuckles, eyes wide as he looked up at her.

“N-no? No! No of course you don’t.” His lips moved against her skin. “You deserve it, unconditionally. And… from someone better than me.”

She shook her head, lips curving in a slight smile as she combed her free hand through his thick hair.

“Better? Who would be ‘better’?”

His eyes dropped, his expression melancholy. “Anyone.”

“I don’t want ‘anyone’.” It was her turn now to raise his hand to her lips. She couldn’t convince him that there wasn’t anyone better , not for her. But she wanted to make him see that she saw all the things that he perceived as his flaws and imperfections, and she didn’t just want him in spite of them, but because of them, because there were many other facets to him, many things that were perfections , and every little part of him, the good and the bad, were what made him, him . There was no shadow without light.

His gaze turned up to hers again, surprised, confused, but… hopeful .

“You… you want…”

Altheia smiled, nodded. There were probably words she should say, something affirming, reassuring. But instead, she placed his hand over her heart, and placed her hand over his heart, feeling its pace pick up in sync with hers. A kind of wonder came to Julian’s grey eyes, and Altheia bent and brushed her lips over his, feeling his shuddering breath.

“Yes, Julian.” Her voice was low, velvety. “I want you to have my affection. All of it. And the only thing I ask in return…” She pressed her lips more firmly against his. “... is yours. ”

“You have it,” he said on a gasp, his voice and eyes earnest in their promise. He seemed to choke a little, and then repeated her words back to her. “All of it. All of… of me .”

His hand hooked around the back of her neck as she bent down the rest of the way to kiss him with as much affection as she could manage. His body trembled beneath hers, small noises escaped his lips and tripped over her tongue as she swept it gently over his.

Eventually she pulled up, looking down into dusk-grey eyes as her thumb stroked his cheekbone. She was suffused with warmth, a feeling that they’d ignited something , committed themselves.

A lump rose to her throat as Julian held onto her hand over his heart, as if he thought that if he let her go, he’d lose her.

“I’m not going to leave you,” she told him with a warm, reassuring smile. “I…”

I love you .

The thought came to her from a pulse of her heart that flooded every part of her with a warmth and certainty that the embers burning between them since they’d met, had ignited into something more, but that it wasn’t new . It was right . It was a coming home after a long journey. It was waking up in strong arms after a nightmare. It was a love that had always been, and always would be.

But she couldn’t say it. It was too much, when Julian had only just accepted affection , to expect him to believe that she loved him. More, she couldn’t expect him to return her feelings.

So all she said was,

“I want to be with you. I haven’t felt myself for three years. And I don’t know who I was before. But what I do know is that this…” She laced her fingers with his, their hands over his chest, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart. “This is right . There was something between us before. I don’t know what it was, and I don’t know why we can’t remember it. But I think… I belong with you. I did then. And I do now. If you’ll have me.”

Julian looked as if he wanted to speak, taking a deep breath but letting it out soundlessly. He bit his lip, his eyes shimmered. Suddenly he sat up, and Altheia panicked that she’d said too much, that he’d push her away, repeat his assertion of the night before, that he was a terrible person who’d only hurt her.

“I’m sorry…” she said hastily.

But Julian only shifted so he sat beside her, his hip and thigh pressing against hers, and his arm wrapped around her front, gently tugging her to twist at the waist to face him. He was still trembling, little whimpers and fragments of words escaping him, and the fingers of his left hand entangled in her hair and held her as his mouth moved against hers. She leaned into him, one hand snaking up into his hair, the other around his back, pulling him close. His right hand rested in the curve of her waist, slender fingertips pressing against her flesh and making a spark of pleasure ripple through her.

“Altheia…” His voice was a hoarse, shuddering whisper against her lips as he pulled back just an inch, just enough that his eyes could meet hers. “I’m yours.”

She felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks, couldn’t stop a delighted smile.

“And I’m yours.” She laughed softly. “And you’re mine?”

“Yes.” Julian’s smile was unreserved, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m yours, and… and you’re mine.”

“You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

They laughed together then, eyes closing, foreheads resting against each other, arms wrapped around them, shirts gliding over skin beneath restless hands. Altheia didn’t know how long it would take to solve the Count’s murder. She didn’t know exactly what their future looked like. Much was uncertain. But she did know that her feelings ran deep, she believed that Julian’s did, too, and that their future, whatever and wherever it may be, would be together . Even if he didn’t quite believe it yet, she knew it.

She loved him.

#the arcana #julian devorak #the arcana fanfiction #julian devorak fanfic #julian x oc #julian x altheia #juleia

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mermaidchan05 · 8 days

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Vesuvia Weekly: Forgotten First Kisses

Some bullet-point thoughts on the first kisses that happened pre-ressurection.

Nadia and Chimalus

Neither of them remember this now, but Nadia and Chimalus actually met long before Nadia came to the shop that fateful night.

The two of them first met at a party when they were much younger, around 13-ish.

It was a decidedly fancy party thrown by Nadia’s parents. A party that neither of them actually wanted to attend.

Chimalus, who grew up in a noble family, was dragged along by their father, a sadly common and always uncomfortable occurrence.

They eventually got the chance to flee into what they thought was an empty balcony.

It turned out Nadia had done exactly the same thing.

The two of them ended up talking for a while. They really enjoyed each other’s company.

For both of them, it was a chance to shed expectations and just be kids.

When they finally had to part, Nadia took Chimalus’ hand and gave them a very Regal Kiss on their knuckles.

Chimalus was a blushing mess after that.

And Nadia’s family teased her about her “first kiss” for a while.

Damian and Julian

Julian is a doctor. Damian is an alchemist. The two of them worked very well together when trying to find a cure for the plague.

And they found they worked wonderfully together in other aspects as well

Which led to Julian shouting out the above line after a particularly impressive breakthrough moment in their joined work.

Damian replied: “Go ahead.”

Julian was Stunlocked for a bit

But eventually he managed an adorably awkward cheek kiss.

Damian chuckled and gave him a real kiss in return.

It was a small one. But it absolutely left an impression on poor Julian.

Julian was red for the rest of the day. And it was hard to look Damian in the eye.

Damian found the whole thing adorable.

Asra and Meleia

Meleia and Asra didn’t get an official first kiss until after the Lazaret incident, as they sat on their gondola under the fireworks of their “first” Masquerade together.

But Asra did sneak a kiss on Meleia’s cheek when they were younger.

This was back when she was still living with her Aunt.

Her aunt didn’t approve of their friendship (which was slowly budding into a relationship)

So Asra could only stop by for visits on rare occasions.

The two “snuck” out when they could to see each other (i.e. Meleia let Asra know when she was going to the market and they met up there perfectly normally)

And one day they stayed out later than planned, going well into the night.

Asra walked her home. And gave her a little kiss on the cheek as a goodnight kiss.

It was 100% impulsive. And he immediately ran away the moment he had done that.

Meleia just laughed at his antics. Though she did Meleia consider herself very lucky that her aunt wasn’t home that night

(She also spent way too much time blushing and giggling over that kiss like a schoolgirl)

#vesuvia weekly #first kiss #the arcana game #the arcana headcanons #nadia x oc #nadia x mc #asra x oc #asra x mc #julian x oc #julian x mc #my stuff #oc stuff #apprentice chimalus #apprentice damian #apprentice meleia

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sillyppi · 1 year

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drawing them sillies again :p

#the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fanart #julian devorak fanart #julian devorak #julian x apprentice #julian x oc #original character

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redcasper · 1 year

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bam Oc x Julian art. Are they my mc? ... no. Will I explain? also no. Small note: I don't have a clue about anything else in the arcana world. All Ik is Julian's reserve route and my adhd can sit threw so much romantic writing/reading of a character that im frankly not that interested in. So I only know Julian's bullshit. But I'm too soft to think about some poor dude giving up a part of his organ to keep someone they look alive JUST FOR THEM TO BE BAGGED BY THEIR FUCKING EX. So uhhh to make this ramble short. My oc is not like my mc, they're just an oc based off an oc I have that I lazily cramped into a world I have no clue about.

#sorry for the unneeded ramble #🦞🩸my art!#julian devorak #the arcana #the arcana oc #oc #oc x canon

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adelia-the-apprentice · 2 years

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Oh, I forgot to post this here lol

Hand kiss 💋

Time lapse <3

#art #my art #adelia the apprentice #julian devorak #julian #ilya devorak #ilya #the arcana apprentice #adelia #my apprentice #julian x oc #the arcana julian #julian x mc #julian devorak fanart #julian x adelia #hand kiss

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sketchycrowz · 1 year

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I haven't read the new tales but I still wanted to make a matching cg

#the arcana #julian devorak #the arcana julian #the arcana x apprentice #the arcana game #julian #julian x mc #julian x oc #jumi #rumi #rumi sokolov #apprentice #apprentice rumi

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ilyas-salty-bitters · 1 year

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I’m still working on the Christmas oneshots!!! I promise!!! It’s halfway done!!!!

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wiltingdecay · 2 years

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he drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow

word count: 4179

pairing: rowan aisling x julian devorak

characters: rowan aisling, julian devorak, asra alnazar (mentioned briefly)

warnings: hurt no comfort, alcoholism, depiction of a toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, extreme self-hatred, implied/referenced self-harm, references to suicide and suicidal ideation, blood, injury

synopsis: life in the hanged raven is about as happy as you'd expect.

author's note: this may be the bleakest thing i've ever written. i had to take multiple breaks while writing it because it was depressing me. please for the love of god heed the provided warnings, proceed with caution, and let me know if you think there's any warnings i missed out on. i'll be happy to revise the list accordingly. that being said, i'm very proud of this fic, and i hope you'll enjoy.

Rowan's taken to sitting in front of the mirrors, recently.

Of course, the mirrors are unavoidable no matter where you sit. Julian had done a good job of smashing them sometime before Rowan ever came here, but they are many and they are everywhere - walls, ceilings, no matter where you look, there's your reflection staring back at you; shattered beyond repair, whole pieces missing, but inescapable and undying nevertheless.

They're oddly relatable, Rowan thinks.

In the position he's in now, lying on his side so close to the glass, Rowan doesn't have much difficulty making out his reflection, jagged and scattered as it is. He's not sure what exactly it is he's looking for. He's never been sure, but his body is laid out in front of him for his own inspection regardless.

He looks at his hollow cheeks, his pallid skin, his tired, unfocused eyes, his long and tangled hair, the frenzied claw marks where sharpened fingernails had torn his face open, and wonders, not for the first time and certainly not the last, where it all went wrong. What he could have done, short of doing the world a favour and killing himself before he ever got a chance to ruin it, to fix things.

But even if Rowan could turn back time, it's a useless question to ponder. Rowan doesn't fix things. He destroys them. He burns them into ash.

"My love... why are you on the floor?"

Rowan rolls onto their back, tipping their head towards Julian to look blankly up at him through the hazy fog in their mind that never seems to go away. They don't bother dignifying that question with a response. Why the floor? Why not the floor? What makes the floor any worse than any other place in this fucking shithole they're stuck in-?

Uh-oh. They're getting angry again, and even though they're so sure they didn't speak a word of their thoughts aloud, Julian looks upset. Then again, when doesn't he look upset?

Rowan will never begrudge him that, though. He has every right to be upset. Even if this is all his fault. It's all Rowan's fault, too. Fitting, then, that they should live out the rest of their days in this den of iniquity, this dank and vile prison of their own making.

At least they're together now.

Uncomfortable in the silence, Julian shifts his feet, talons clicking against the floor near Rowan's head. Rowan's not sure why he seems so uneasy. They've always been quiet. They think. Isn't he supposed to love them? He should know that already.

"It's just that," Julian begins again, his voice timid like it never was when he was human. "There's broken glass on the floor, love. From the... from the mirrors. I don't want you to get hurt."

A memory slowly swims through the murk to the forefront of Rowan's mind. Julian erratically pacing around him, feathers puffed up and wings spread out in an ultimately futile intimidation attempt, trying to scare him away. The distinct sound of sharp, painful crunches with every step, jagged shards of glass being crushed into splinters under his feet.

"Oh," Rowan says quietly. His voice sounds strange to his own ears. It almost hurts. Thinking on it, he can't quite remember when was the last time he spoke. He supposes he doesn't have all that much to say anymore.

(Well, there's plenty he could say. But nothing Julian would want to hear.)

Rowan's painfully aware of Julian's gaze, fraught with worry, on their back as they slowly push themself up into a seating position. They mentally curse themself when they hear the telltale tinkle-crunch of broken glass shifting underneath their body as they move. Their magic, influenced by the ever-constant presence of the arcane around them, is far stronger than it's ever been, but it's still not a miracle cure. If there's any glass stuck in them, their skin will just close over it and push it further into their flesh if they use any of their usual healing spells.

Craning their neck to have a proper look, they stare numbly at their thigh and hip for a long moment, where some of the bigger shards of glass have torn through their clothes and pierced what little remains of the soft flesh underneath. They hear Julian's breath catch in his throat behind them, knowing he's staring in transfixed horror as blood slowly blossoms outwards from the worst of them, and for the first time, the wounds begin to sting.

"Fuck." Rowan mutters.

Well, no sense in drawing it out. Sucking in a long breath through their clenched teeth, Rowan grips the worst-looking shard between forefinger and thumb and pulls. They hear Julian gasp, see the bloodstain quickly get larger, certainly feel the pain get worse, but they ignore all of it and just keep pulling until at last, the glass is out. A sharp, thick spliner about the size of their little finger, all but a few centimetres near the base coated in the warm, wet, bright red of Rowan's blood.

He flings it away from himself into a darkened corner of the tavern and gets to work pulling the rest of them out.

Behind him, Julian twitches. His wings flap, his talons tap, his hands clench and unclench. Rowan can hear it, and he knows it must be killing Julian, that he's only able to watch as the person he loves treats their own wounds, that the hands of a doctor were replaced with those of a monster, a demon; incapable of helping, only causing further harm.

Try as he might, Rowan finds he can't muster up any sympathy for Julian's predicament. He'd welcome his help if it was offered to him. Human or demon, he never stopped craving Julian's touch, his physical declarations of his love. Like most of Julian's many troubles, this is purely self-inflicted. He can't help Rowan because he won't allow himself to.

Still, though, Rowan knows all too well that Julian has his many weaknesses, and he knows exactly which ones to exploit in order to get what they both want. Namely that if Rowan directly asks him for something, no matter what it is, Julian is loathe to refuse them it. And so, once they've pulled out the worst of the glass, they turn back to him with the most pleading look in their eyes that they can muster, and extend a hand towards him. "Can you help me up, please?"

Julian freezes. Even his wings seem to stiffen as his eyes, wide with apprehension and painful hope, flit between Rowan's outstretched hand and beseeching expression. He's quiet for a long moment, biting his lip hard enough to break the skin, and Rowan can see in his mismatched eyes that he's fighting with himself, that all he wants to do is sweep them up in his arms, consequences be damned, and never let them go.

They wish he would. Even if it kills them. At least they'd die happy, never to be parted from him again.

But Julian knows his limitations, and his need to keep Rowan safe from harm (ha) will always outweigh any of his desires. Some time later, he swallows, closing his eyes briefly, and gives a tiny, jerky nod. "Of... of course, darling."

His hand is shaking when he reaches for theirs.

He must be sober, or at least as sober as he's capable of being, judging by the way he takes their hand. Or, rather, the way he doesn't take their hand - even as Rowan grips his wrist, he only rests his own hand ever so lightly on their forearm to help them balance, his talons barely brushing Rowan's skin. He's never this careful when he's been drinking, forgetting that it's no longer safe for him to touch them thoughtlessly.

Not that Rowan particularly minds. When it happens, when he touches them casually (forgetting that he thinks he's no longer allowed to) and it doesn't hurt, they're ecstatic. When he does hurt them, they know they deserve worse.

They don't even tell him when he hurts them anymore; thankfully he's wrapped up enough in himself that they have time to heal whatever he's done before he notices. The last time he found out, when Rowan had gone to console him after a nightmare and he'd hugged them so hard he snapped their ribs, he'd been so sick with guilt and shame that he hadn't touched them, hadn't even spoken to them, for what had felt like years. Even though they'd been able to heal themself within seconds, every time Julian caught a glimpse of the ugly scars where the jagged edges of bone had pierced through Rowan's skin, he'd retreat to his booth in the back of their prison and refuse to so much as look up from his tankard of bitters. The deprivation of any sort of contact had almost driven Rowan insane. Julian hadn't come back to them until they quite literally started banging their head against the walls and tearing their hair out. Best not to let such a thing happen again.

Rowan's slowly lifted back to his feet as Julian moves backwards. He stumbles when he tries to stand, the thick fog in his head almost feeling like it's alive, and he can't help but let out a little yelp of fear. Julian reacts without thinking, his free hand shooting out and cupping Rowan's elbow to steady him, helping him find his balance. He freezes up again when he realises and tries to move away, an apology for crossing a boundary that doesn't exist already on his stuttering lips, but Rowan silences him with a hand pressed to his cold, feathered cheek.

"You didn't hurt me, Julian. 's okay." He tries to make his voice sound reassuring, but it just comes out flat, his words slurring together. He supposes it can't be helped. Julian doesn't seem to mind, anyway. He relaxes, his eyes sliding shut, rubbing his cheek against Rowan's palm. Feeling almost warm, Rowan returns the caress, running his thumb along the jut of Julian's cheekbone, tenderly stroking the tiny, downy feathers under his eye.This is alright, he thinks. This can be nice. "Can we sit down, please? I'm tired."

They have to stretch up to do it, he's so tall now, but Rowan slings an arm across Julian's broad shoulders, and he wraps his own arm tentatively round their waist, supporting their weight as he leads them away from the mirrors. It's funny; they have their pick of all the booths in the tavern, but they somehow always end up in the back corner, as far away from the door as they can get. Julian seats himself against the wall, where the window would be if there were any. Rowan slides in beside him, their hip flush against his. Julian tenses, blushing at this chaste touch as if he's not already fucked them before, and Rowan wonders, dimly, if he might suggest they sit opposite him instead (he'd never move them by force); but after a moment or two, he relaxes, lifting his arm up before wrapping it gently around them. Rowan closes their eyes, letting out a sigh of contentment. Their wounds throb, but they ignore the pain for the time being. They won't heal themself until they're sure all the glass is gone, and they're not bothered digging around in their own skin right now. It'll be fine. It'll have to be.

"Are you alright, my dearest?" Julian eventually asks. "Does it... do the cuts hurt?"

"No," Rowan replies, the lie sliding off their tongue as easily as a knife through softened butter. They can vaguely remember that they used to be a bad liar. Perhaps they still are; Julian may just be reluctant to call them out on it. They suppose they'll never know. "Don't worry about it."

It's not completely a lie, anyway. They didn't start to hurt until Julian pointed them out.

Whether he's bought it or not, the lie seems to relax Julian. He falls silent, and Rowan does too, resting their head in the crook of his shoulder. Soon, they feel Julian start to play with their hair, and they almost smile at the feeling, at the normalcy of the gesture. They know that Julian marvels over the fact that Rowan still has hair to be played with. After they'd decided to stay here with him, they know he'd fretted that the same fate that befell him might be waiting for Rowan; that they would become a twisted monster, a demon, just like him.

But despite his fears, Rowan remained human, their body only changing in ways that any human's would when living this way of life. Because unlike Julian, Rowan did not make any deals to be here. They did not trade their soul for something that could never in a thousand lifetimes be worth the price.

Knowing what they know now, knowing what they are, they have their doubts as to whether or not they even have a soul to sell.

Julian's thumb smooths across Rowan's bangs, and they relax, letting their thoughts go and allowing themself to enjoy the affection. He used to love their hair, they remember; always playing with it, always burying his hands in it when he kissed them fervently, always winding the curls around his fingers or affectionately rubbing them between his fingertips. Rowan used to take such pride in their hair, too. Julian always had a compliment about it - how soft it was, how nice the scent of it was.

Was. Of course, there is no space for trivial matters such as hair care in the Hanged Raven. Even though Julian doesn't seem to mind, Rowan knows it's tangled beyond repair and disgustingly greasy, and that the old them would weep if they saw it. They just can't bring themself to give a shit. In fact, thinking about it, Rowan's not sure if they've even seen water ever since they set foot in here, let alone anything else they might use to clean their hair.

They crack an eye open, glancing down at the tankard that's somehow appeared in their hand. It's full of straight whiskey, as it always is. He can vaguely remember a time when it would be filled with cider, fruity and sweet, once his favourite thing to drink before it was no longer enough to numb him. But there was never water.

Rowan misses water.

"Julian?"

"Yes, my angel?"

"D'you remember what water tastes like?"

Julian's hand stills in their hair. Rowan can almost hear him frowning as he ponders their question. "No," he replies eventually, after a pause that could have lasted a minute or a month. "I don't."

Rowan lets out a breath he forgot he was holding in a long sigh. "Me neither." He punctuates the statement with a shrug that shifts Julian's arm on his shoulders, prompting him to hold him just that little bit tighter. Rowan's tempted to move again, deliberately this time; just a little, just enough to make Julian increase his grip on them until they're satisfied, but they know they ought not to push their luck lest he release them entirely. "Nothing to be done about it now, I s'pose."

Well. Not quite nothing. He could get up from his seat, walk across the floor, ignore the crunch of glass under his feet. He could step out the door, out into the mangrove swamp, under the sky and the sun or the stars or the moon or whatever it is they've got now. He could walk until he finds water, clean the blood and filth from his body, drink deeply and experience the refreshing joy of having something that's not alcohol in his system. He could find other people. He could listen to birdsong. He could breathe fresh air. He could be free. He could live.

But he won't. Because he knows he no longer deserves these things, if he ever did in the first place.

And because he knows Julian's devotion only goes so far. He's not stupid. He knows Julian doesn't love him more than he hates himself. If he decides to leave the Hanged Raven, he knows Julian will not follow him. He will stay here, drinking himself into a death that will never come, and eventually forget that he was ever loved, that he was ever a human at all.

So Rowan stays.

It's better this way, he knows that. He almost killed himself time and time again trying to find Julian in the first damned place, and he's not going to have all of that be for naught.

Perhaps he really did kill himself back then, he muses as he lifts his drink and takes a sip, and the thing he's been reduced to now is nothing more than a ghost that just doesn't know when to quit. That seems fitting, considering what he is. What he's always been since the day Asra performed that god-forsaken ritual that only lead to ruin in the end. As if it could've ended any other way.

Asra. Now there's a name Rowan hasn't thought of in quite some time. But now, for the time being, they remember; fluffy white hair that always smelled of smoky tea and hibiscus, kind purple eyes with an underlying glint of mischief, lie after lie after lie falling from softly smiling lips. God, how they hope he'll never show his face around here. Rowan might just have to strangle him if he does, and there's still a long-buried part of him that would be upset about that.

No matter how hard Rowan's tried to drown it.

To distract himself, he takes another drink, enjoying the stinging burn as it washes down his throat and into his stomach. It almost makes him feel like himself again. Whoever that is.

With every sip, the smog in his mind becomes wonderfully thicker, and heavier, until it's blocked out... whatever it was he had been thinking about. It's funny to think about how much he used to yearn for a past to call his own, how he craved to remember. Now he sighs dreamily, content to have forgotten the things that once caused him such despair, leaning closer to Julian and cuddling into his side.

"I love you so much," Rowan tells him. And really, how could they not? He's the only thing that matters. The only thing that will ever matter.

Julian turns his head to look at them, and Rowan doesn't care that he's a demon (not that they ever did, not really); they only care about how he's looking at them with such fondness, such adoration, such need, like he's a man drowning and they're his first glimpse of the shore. They wish they could forever hold this feeling of being wanted and loved and craved, and lock it up tight in their heart, where nothing and nobody can take it away ever again.

"I love you too, my darling." Julian speaks slowly, so that Rowan can hear the sincerity in every word. "More than anything. More than life itself."

They know.

Rowan presses even closer to him, head lolling back on his shoulder, hooking one of their legs over his thigh. This is nice. What were they even upset about earlier? This is so nice. This is almost normal.

They take another drink.

And another.

But no matter how much he drinks, no matter how many times his tankard refills with whiskey and not water, there's something that won't stop nagging at Rowan from underneath the brain-fog he's trying to bury it in. He fidgets in his seat, tapping his fingers against his and Julian's thighs, face creasing in a frown as he tries in vain to smother the voice, or perhaps to uncover it. He's not quite sure.

Eventually, Julian notices that something's not quite right. "What's wrong, my love?"

His voice is gentle. Tender. And it cuts through the thick, muddled haze in Rowan's mind as if it were the sharpest knife.

Dearest. Angel. Darling. Love. Rowan has always adored these pet-names, these reminders of how much Julian still loves them despite everything. They especially love hearing a "my" in front of them, that little note of casual possessiveness that makes them feel positively treasured.

But come to think of it... when was the last time that Julian addressed Rowan by simply their name?

And so, the penny drops.

"You don't remember what my name is, do you?"

Julian doesn't need to answer for them to know it's the truth. If they didn't already know on some strange, fundamental level that they can't quite explain, his body language would be more than enough to give him away; out of the corner of their eye, they see his face fall, his eyes widening with sudden realisation and downright horror. His whole body tenses, arm tightening around their shoulders, and they hear the telltale tapping of his talons against the wooden floor, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he starts to panic, desperately clawing through what remains of his mind in an attempt to grasp the memory of their name. His mouth opens and closes like some kind of fish, choking on... what, exactly? A lie? An attempt at a guess? A stammered, pathetic apology?

They could alleviate this so easily. A simple "It's Rowan" would be more than enough to, not exactly fix things, but it would be enough to cut through Julian's mounting panic, calm him down enough for him to remember, to wonder how he even forgot, of course their name's Rowan, how could he not remember? He'd beg for their forgiveness, they'd readily hand it over, silencing his inevitable self-flagellation with a hug and a kiss and endless, endless coddling. Eventually, once Julian had gotten bored with metaphorically flogging himself, they'd both pretend it had never happened in the first place, and end up forgetting about it entirely until it happened all over again.

They feel drained all of a sudden, exhausted down to their bones, and far, far too tired to deal with this whole bullshit song and dance anymore. They find that they are in no mood to even attempt to lift Julian's spirits. Why should they? No matter how hard they try, it hardly ever works, and even when it does, it certainly never lasts.

He brought this on himself, anyway. He should be the one who has to deal with the consequences.

"I-I'm... I... n-no. No, I, I don't." Julian eventually forces his words out, every octave of his voice steeped in guilt and shame, eyes glistening with tears. Ah, so it's the apology, then. "I'm trying, my love, I promise I'm t-t-trying, I'm sorry, I c-can't believe I for-forgot, my darling, I'm so, so sorry, I-"

"It's fine." They cut him off mid-sentence.

Julian gapes at them, tears running freely down his cheeks, mouth hanging open like a baby bird looking for its next meal.

For their part, they're tired of being the meal.

"It's... fine?" Julian repeats hoarsely, voice hesitant with disbelief. "You... are you sure?"

They nod once, sharply. "It's fine." They repeat. "It doesn't matter. Not anymore."

Julian's staring at them like he's not sure if they're real. "You're not..." His voice is so small, so timid. At times like this it's hard to remember that he's almost a decade older than them. "You're not mad at me?"

"No." It's not even a lie.

I'm not mad at you. I just wish I'd never met you. We both would've been better off that way.

"Besides," they continue, reaching once more for their tankard, looking down into its depths to avoid Julian's gaze. It's refilled itself again. "It was never really my name, was it? Maybe you're better off forgetting it. Maybe we both are."

They know they're right, much as it hurts to admit. They aren't really Rowan. They never were. Rowan is just the name of the dead person whose face was forced onto them. Let it die with him. Perhaps it's the only way he'll be able to finally rest in peace.

He deserves at least that much.

They hear Julian swallow nervously, feel as he tentatively wraps his arm back around them, holding them tighter, pulling them closer. "If... if you're sure, my darling." He shakes his head slowly, casting off his thoughts as best he can, before picking up his own tankard and taking a swig of bitters. He doesn't even flinch when drinking them anymore. When he's done, he turns his head, pressing a soft and chaste kiss to their brow. They lean into it, closing their eyes.

"I love you," Julian says quietly against their skin. "So much."

Their throat hurts. The cuts on their leg and hip throb. There's tears in their eyes. Their mouth is dry. More than anything, they'd like a drink of water.

"I love you, too."

They tilt their head back, and drain their tankard once again.

#fern's writing #reversed!rowlian au #rowan aisling #julian devorak #the arcana #julian x oc #julian x apprentice #the arcana fanfic #bird julian devorak #julian devorak reversed ending #birblian #i refuse to put this into their main relationship tag

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taycheshire · 2 years

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Just pretend Angel Lynn has a leg. (I was just struggling to much with drawing it right) Merman Julian and my oc, Angel Lynn.

#mermaid!julian #julian devorak #mermaid #merman #merman!julian #the arcana mermaid au #julian x oc

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choih3ra · 1 month

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Have been obsessed with their pre-route recently. (yes i know again fucking AGAIN)

Wrote fics. Rewrote fics. Commissioned fics. One has arrived and the other is on its way.

Help.

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bakuliwrites · 2 years

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OT3 Challenge, Day 3

All prompts can be found here. All of my OT3 Challenge stories can be found here.

Day Three- Date

In which Julian, Bakuli, and Lucio go on a peaceful boat ride, where everyone ends up in the water by the end.

Bakuli trails her fingers through the emerald water, watching as she sends gentle ripples across the surface. The lake around her is still, save her slight disturbance of it and the gentle rocking of the rowboat. An iridescent dragonfly hovers just a few feet away, its wings nearly invisible in their swift, repetitive motion. Bakuli glances at her partners. Julian looks utterly serene, leaning back in the boat, letting the gilded autumn sunlight wash over him. His hair sparks like threads of copper and gold and his long eyelashes create gentle shadows on his high cheekbones. Lucio, across from them, dozes peacefully, a white handkerchief draped over his face to shield out the light. He sports a jaunty, cream-colored linen ensemble and maroon boat shoes.

This lazy afternoon is just what the three of them have needed: silently basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun, tranquilly enjoying one another's presences. Bakuli gives a contented sigh before picking up the booklet of poetry resting on her lap and leaning back into Julian's welcoming embrace. He hums softly as she rests her head against his chest.

"What are you reading, my darling?" he murmurs, cracking one eye open to look at the book she holds open in her hands.

"Some Prakran love poems I found at a rare book stall at the market last week," Bakuli returns, angling the book so Julian has a better view.

"That's some awfully spicy stuff, my darling," Julian purrs, quirking an eyebrow up as he scans the page. He leans down to whisper in her ear, voice low and husky, "Would you care for a spirited reading of one?"

Bakuli feels heat rise to her cheeks, which are no doubt painted pink at Julian's suggestion. An impish smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

"Why, I would absolutely love one," she coos, passing the book to Julian and making herself quite comfortable in his lap. Julian takes the book from her, keeping it open with one hand while the other traces the top of the lacy stockings that peek out just underneath the bunched up hem of Bakuli's elegant, white dress. He clears his throat before launching into a sultry, albeit melodramatic, reading of a romantic Prakran ballad. His voice is velvety, the sensual words rolling off his tongue with ease. He has a mastery over the language and a mastery over the poem, itself. It's music to Bakuli's ears.

It's then that Lucio perks up, throwing off the handkerchief and leaning forward in his seat. His silver eyes gaze curiously over towards his partners. Bakuli knows he can't understand Prakran, but he can certainly guess at the contents of the poem based on Julian's roguish grin and the drawl in his voice. Bakuli casts a coquettish look his way, something impish glimmering in her hazel eyes. Lucio beams something wicked back at her.

"Mind translating for me, Jules?" Lucio croons when the doctor is finished, "Or maybe demonstrating on our lovely Bakuli?"

This last part he suggests with a devilish wink at Bakuli, who turns a deep crimson in response.

"Is that what you'd like, my dear Bakuli?" Julian offers, setting the book down and tilting her head so he might press his lips softly to hers. As their kisses turn heated, Julian's hand slinks further up Bakuli's skirt. She gasps into him, before giggling as she feels Lucio trail searing kisses from the top of her foot, all the way up her leg.

"Don't have all the fun without me, Jules," Lucio whines, inching off of his seat and trying to make his way closer to the two of them. He stands- ready to cross over the middle seat- when suddenly, the boat lurches, causing Julian and Bakuli to pull back from one another.

"Lucio, the boat!" Bakuli cries, just as Lucio starts to take another step. He balances on one leg for a mere second before losing his balance altogether, silver eyes wide with panic as he tips over into the emerald water below. The boat rocks violently, water splashing up the sides, but Julian manages to steady it just as Lucio resurfaces, sputtering and utterly drenched.

"Dear God, Lucio" Julian wheezes before bursting into laughter at the sight of Lucio, make-up smeared across his face and blonde hair hanging limply in front of his eyes, "What did you think was going to happen when you stood up?"

The mercenary scowls at the doctor, before a wide-grin splits his lips. Before Julian has the chance to react, Lucio grips him by the wrist and pulls him down into the water. Bakuli gasps as the cold water splashes up against her.

"What'd you do that for?!" Julian cries, skimming his hand along the water, launching some at Lucio.

"You deserved it!" the mercenary returns, beaming wickedly as he returns Julian's splash with an even larger one.

"You two are terrible!" Bakuli scolds through her laughter, peering over the boat as Julian shakes off his wet ringlets. She regrets her words as soon as Julian and Lucio share a silent, mischievous look.

"You know, I don't think it's fair that we're the only two in the water. Don't you agree, Lucio?" Julian begins, turning back to Bakuli.

"Oh, no you don't," she giggles, backing away towards the other side of the boat. But there's really nowhere for her to escape to.

"I think it's only fair we all get wet," Lucio returns. And suddenly, Bakuli feels herself being pulled over the edge of the boat, the sting of the cold hitting her skin almost immediately. She resurfaces with a gasp, blinking water way from her eyes before dissolving into laughter with Julian and Lucio.

"You'll pay for that!" she shouts teasingly, skipping her hand across the rippling surface, hoping to catch both Julian and Lucio with her splash. The air is filled with laughter and the sound of splashing water for the remainder of the afternoon.

#the arcana #julian x oc #lucio x oc #julian x lucio #julian x lucio x oc #fan apprentice #fan apprentice bakuli #slight spice #bakuli bjornsdottir #bakuli's ot3 stories #i headcanon that Bakuli and Julian speak a lot of Prakran with one another #she's happy to have one partner that she can speak one of her native languages with #dani writes

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lunastarhawk · 15 days

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The Ties That Bind

Tides of Memories (Julian post-route continuation) part 24, on AO3.

Summary

While Julian and Nadia bond over astronomy to help make the talisman that Julian needs, Altheia and Asra reconnect, reminisce, and look to the future. But when Asra discovers a disturbance in his gate and seeks advice from the Magician, Judgement delivers a dire warning.

Will post an extract later!

#the arcana #the arcana fanfic #julian devorak fanfic #tides of memories #julian devorak #altheia featherstone #julian x oc #the arcana game

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jazztato · 2 years

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Paint Catastrophe

Requested by: @ladywarlock03 @adelia-the-apprentice It was a peaceful morning, the birds were chirping, people were out of their homes chatting as their day goes on, and nothing supernature was going on either, as the day went on Jasmine was cleaning her little home, but was soon interrupted when a knock was heard coming from the front door she set her broom off to the side as she answered the door, with her surprise it was none other then Adelia and her husband Julian, but they weren't alone in Adelia's arms was the cutest little girl she's ever scene. "Adelia! Julian! What brings you by? And who may I ask who is the little angel in your arms Adelia?" Jasmine opened her door a bit wider so they may enter as she eyed the cutie in her arms.

Adelia let out a small laugh. "Jasmine you should remember her, but I guess it has been a while since you last saw her, but this is mine and Julian's daughter, Cecilia. The last time you saw her she was barely 2 years of age, but now she's 4 almost 5." Adelia set the little girl down onto the ground as she looked around with wandering eyes.

"Noooo That can't be little cecilia cant it, it's been so long! But I'm sure you didn't stop for a visit just to show me the little cutie now did you?" Jasmine knelt down to be eye to eye with Cecilia who just giggled hugging her little raven plush.

Adelia set a bag of things onto the table in her living area. "You're right, we actually came by to ask for a favor.." Adelia looked up at Julian who gave her a nod smiling.

"Alright, what's the favor you wanna ask me?" Jasmine stood up straight to look at Adelia.

"Julian and I were wondering if you may be able to watch Cecilia for a few hours? We could really use a date night but everyone else was busy with their own plans so we were hoping that maybe if you're not busy you could watch her?" Adelia gave her an awkward smile unsure of what she would say.

Out of nowhere a small laugh escaped Jasmine's lips. "I'm a bit sad that I was the last one you asked but of course i'll watch Cecilia while you two get a night out." Jasmine gave the two a sweet smile. "So go! I got it from here." Jasmine started rushing them out of the house.

As Adelia stepped out the door seeing how Julian was already on his ass because Jasmine accidently shoved him a bit harder. "Thank you so much! We owe you one, we'll be back later tonight." She looked over Jasmine's shoulder and at Cecilia. "Cecilia sweetie! Be nice to aunty Jasmine while your father and I go out for a few hours, we'll be back but make sure you have lots of fun! Love you sweetie.." Cecilia looked up at her mother before waving bye. She looked back at Jasmine. "Please be careful with her, we'll be back later.."

Jasmine sighed before slowly closing the door. "Don't worry, she's in good hands, now go have some fun." Before Adelia could give her a response back Jasmine shut the door and walked back over to Cecilia who was sitting on the floor hugging her little raven plush. "Hi there Cecilia! Today you and I are gonna have some fun! Now what is that you like to do?" Jasmine looked around thinking a bit before eyeing a couple bottles of paint. "Oh! How about we do some painting? Wouldn't that be fun?" She picked up the pant bottles along with a blank canvas, setting everything up.

Cecilia started eyeing the paint tilting her head. "Paint." She started to stand a bit wobbly before walking over to the paint that was off to the side of the canvas.

"That's right Cecilia, Paint! and it's the baby safe kind." Jasmine started looking around for the brushes. "Cecilia i'll be right back i'll just be over here." As Jasmine turned around to grab the brushes from the kitchen Cecilia was trying to reach for the paint, but Jasmine ended up putting them a bit out of reach for her so she wouldn't try and eat it, as Cecilia continued to reach for it a little spark of magic grew from her fingertips as her eagerness to retrieve the paint grew, it started to slowly lift off the table and float down towards the little 4 year old. As Jasmine turned around with the brushes in hand she watched as Cecilia tried to reach for the now floating paint bottle, her eyes grew wide as she ran over trying to get to it before she could, however she was a bit late as soon as Cecilia touched the bottle, a huge boom, could be heard as paint was splattered all over the walls and all over the two girls. Jasmine raised her hand up to her eyes wiping from the paint before doing the same with Cecilia who was just giggling like crazy. "Who knew you had magic.. If I knew then I would've magic proofed the bottles." She started spitting out some paint that ended up in her mouth, before laughing. "This is a mess! But look at us! We look like a painting gone wrong." Jasmine couldn't stop laughing, She gently picked the girl up. "Looks like we both could use a bath." Before Jasmine was able to walk to the bathroom with the paint drenched child a knock was heard from the door. "It couldn’t be time already? Can it? No.. Maybe Julian and Adelia just grew worried and decided they didn't need a night out.." As soon as she opened the door, she was met by a very concerned looking Adelia. "Adelia! Funny seeing you here... So early.."

Adelia couldn't find the words at what she was seeing. "Jasmine.. Why do you look like a paint fight went down... Please don't tell me you had a paint fight with my daughter.."

Jasmine scratched the back of her neck nervously. "Well.. Good news, your daughter has magic! Bad news when she touched the paint bottle, it exploded.." Jasmine gave her a nervous laugh.

"My daughter.... Has magic.." She looked at the little paint covered child in Jasmine's arms. "This. Is. Incredible! I can't believe my little girl has magic!" Jasmine let out a sigh of relief before handing Cecilia over to Adelia.

"Yup! But you never answered my question, why are you here so early?" She leaned against the door frame waiting for an answer.

"Julian was called back into work.. While we were on our date someone from the clinic came out and got him.. So our date night is on hold for now.." Adelia looked really sad.

Jasmine put a paint covered hand on her shoulder. "Hey it's alright, I'm sure there will be a next time but as you can see I have a lot to clean up and I'm in need of a shower, I have paint in places where paint shouldn't be.." Jasmine started heading back inside, but was called, causing her to turn around, it was Adelia who reached her attention.

"Thank you again Jasmine.. We wouldn't have been able to do an attempt at date night without your help.." She gave her a small smile.

"It's what's friends are for, I'll see you later Adelia." Jasmine closed the door before looking around her messy home. "This is gonna take a while.. But first a nice bath will have to do!" Jasmine wandered down the hall of her home and towards her bathing area, as she bathed she let out a long sigh before sinking deeper into the warm waters.

Bonus

As Jasmine exited the bathroom in new clean clothes and no longer covered in paint, she walked into the living area only to see it spotless! She couldn't believe her eyes, every inch of paint was gone! But how.. Her question was soon answered as she walked further in and saw Adelia and Julian with buckets filled with the paint that used to be on the walls. "You guys! You didn't have to do this.." Jasmine started tearing up at how thoughtful this was.

"It's the least we could do.. You helped us out so we decided to repay the favor!" Adelia walked over giving Jasmine a small yet comforting hug.

"When Adelia told me what happened, I felt kinda bad so I decided to help clean up." Julian picked up 2 of the buckets carrying the outside.

"Thank you once again guys, I know I used to be mean and stubborn in the past but this really means a lot." Jasmine walked over picking up one of the other buckets and setting it outside along with the others.

"Your a lot more mature now Jasmine, plus even if you were the same when you were younger we would still help out." Adelia picked a now clean cecilia up off the ground. As the sun had set, the moon had risen, Adelia said goodbye to Jasmine as she walked out hand in hand with Julian as it was now his turn to hold Cecilia. As the two returned to their respected home they celebrated Cecilia for inheriting magic and will need to be trained before another paint catastrophe could occur.

#Paint catastrophe #julian x oc #cute little angel #babysitting #clean up time #arcana

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