#i love u echo

[starrylothcat]

hello friend!

could i request something angsty with comfort with Echo during TCW? maybe it's a citadel fix it where he went dark with no warning, and the two of you finally meet again when you're just about to leave to start new again.

Promise Kept

Echo x Reader One-Shot

Summary: You’re about to move on, leaving Coruscant and memories of Echo behind. A knock on your door changes everything.

Warnings: Post-Skako Minor Echo. Angst, sadness, insecurities. Comfort. Kissing. Happy/Bittersweet ending. 2,000ish words.

Author’s Note: Ahhh Echo…my sweet Echo! Thank you for this prompt @toomanybandstocare I’ve been wanting to write something about Echo for awhile. He deserves the world. ❤️ I hope you like it and thanks for reading!

Your apartment was almost empty. Moving containers were neatly stacked at the front door, with only a few personal items left to pack before your flight off-world two days from now.

It was time to move on.

Your apartment, this city, this planet, they all held too many ghosts.

Every morning when your eyes opened, there was hope he was still alive, that he was in bed next to you, ready to kiss your tears away.

Reality wasn’t far behind, always crashing over you when that split-second hope was ripped away, realizing you were alone and that he was gone. Dead.

You knew it was cowardly to run away, but your heart was heavy, your mind distracted by loss. You knew if you stayed on Coruscant any longer, you’d fade away, caught up in the past and what could have been.

A few weeks ago you requested a job transfer to a remote Republic outpost on a planet composed of small farming villages. The Separatists had recently razed the planet for natural resources, and they were desperate for help. You were assigned to a team dedicated to rebuilding and getting the community back on its feet.

Your job was how you met Echo, his squad assigned to you near the beginning of the war. You had supported The Republic with humanitarian aid, facilitating the setting up of refugee camps on the front lines. Your paths continued to cross, whether it was on the battlefield or on Coruscant, becoming closer each time. You were drawn to one another’s dedication to fighting for what was just, and helping those who couldn’t help themselves.

Eventually, you found yourself in his arms, his soft lips pressing to yours in an unsure first kiss, not knowing where this would lead the two of you. You continued to find one another though, your relationship and love growing stronger each time you could be together.

You lifted the last box of your belongings, setting it by the door as a lump grew in your throat. Tears clouded your vision as you remembered the last time you saw Echo, a memory that replayed in your mind every waking moment. It was what you thought of as you opened your eyes each morning, and the last thought you had before falling into a restless sleep, tears wetting your pillow.

Echo lay with you in your bed, holding you against him. The sun just coming up, light peeking through the curtains of your bedroom. Neither of you got much sleep the previous night, not wanting to waste one moment together.

Echo whispered sweet nothings in your ear as his warm hands roamed your body, his lips moving to leave featherlight kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

“I love you, mesh’la. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

You buried your face into his neck, hearing his gentle words, feeling his heartbeat against yours. You traced your hands over his taught muscle, having already memorized every dip and curve on his body.

“I love you, too.” You kissed him deeply, wishing you had more time. Echo had to leave soon, off to join General Kenobi and Skywalker to rescue a kidnapped Jedi.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, soldier.” You murmured, pulling your lips away from his always soft ones.

Echo nudged his nose against yours, closing his eyes. “I never break my promises.”

Echo let himself relax, getting lost in you. He wondered how he was so lucky to have you. Out of all the men in the Galaxy, out of all the men that shared his exact genetic makeup, you chose him.

At first, he didn’t know why.

You worked alongside ritzy Coruscant politicians and senators that could offer you stability and a real future. He was just another soldier, born to serve and fight, not knowing if his next mission will be his last. But he found you in his arms over and over again, and every time it was harder for him to let you go.

The regulations he had come to know by heart never prepared him for this.

You understood him, saw him for more than just a soldier, another face in millions. You made him think of a future where you could be together, where you could rest. It inspired him to fight harder.

“You’re pouting.” You chuckled, noticing Echo was lost in his thoughts.

He glanced at you, his pout turning into a small smile. “I never pout.”

You hummed as you brought him in for another long, loving kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you, always. You know that, right?” You whispered, staring into his honeyed as they tenderly gazed back at you.

“And I’ll come back to you, always.”

You took in a shaking breath, wiping tears from your face. You couldn’t wait to get off this planet to start anew, hoping with time, these memories would fade and you could heal, just a little bit.

You sat down on a small chair, one of the last remaining pieces of furniture in your apartment. You looked out the window, watching speeders and ships fly by, the sun beginning to set over the endless city.

A faint tap interrupted your thoughts, coming from your front door.

At first, you thought it was something outside, or someone knocking on a door down the hall. You turned your head toward the sound as a louder knock solidified the fact it was indeed coming from the other side.

You stood up, slowly striding over as another knock sounded.

“Hello?” You called. You weren’t expecting anyone.

There was a moment of silence.

“Hello?” You called again, wondering if it was just your imagination.

A voice, muffled and uncertain, uttered your name from behind the door.

The voice was familiar, a gentle cadence that could only belong to one person.

One person who was supposed to be dead.

Someone who shouldn’t be standing on the other side of your door.

You felt like the air was sucked right out of your lungs, immediately recognizing the voice.

You were trying to breathe, your voice barely a whisper, your chest feeling like it was about to collapse in on itself.

“E-Echo?”

You felt nauseous, wondering if this was a sick joke. Was this a nightmare, did you fall asleep in the chair? Will you open the door, and no one will be there?

Your stomach churned as you heard your name again, faint and insecure.

Bile rose in your throat, and blood rushed in your ears.

“Open the door, mesh’la. It’s me.”

Your hand shook as it hovered over the button, not knowing if you wanted to open the door or not.

You bit down on the side of your cheek, tasting blood as you tried to discern what was reality, seeing if you were indeed trapped in a nightmare.

You leaned against the door to steady yourself, inhaling ragged breaths. A million thoughts raced through your head, a million emotions bubbling to the surface as your hand slammed the button to open the door. You gripped the side of the doorframe to stop yourself from falling to the ground.

Whoever stood there, whether it was a delusion, a trick, or a hallucination, was wearing his armor, his helmet.

You couldn’t speak, your throat feeling like it was closing up.

Echo was standing there in front of you. Your legs shook as you stumbled backward, still not believing what you were seeing.

“E-Echo?” His name was a choked sob as he gingerly stepped into your apartment. You continued to stumble backward, your head spinning as you backed into a wall.

“It’s me…” His voice was trembling through his helmet. “I…I wasn’t sure if I should message you or…I figured coming in person was best…I’m here, mesh’la. I’m sorry, I can try to explain…”

You couldn’t formulate words, your body was in shock. Echo didn’t approach you further, seeing your distress. “Echo…I don’t understand…you were dead…they told me and…I…” Your vision was going blurry with tears, trying to process what was happening.

“T-take off your helmet, I need to see you.”

Echo nodded, swallowing thickly.

This is what he feared most.

Not you being angry at him showing up at your door, saying he’s alive after all this time. Not you having moved on, maybe even with a different man.

It was the look of disgust you would have when you saw him, what they did to him. Nonetheless, he had to come to see you, you deserved to know that he was alive, and he had to know that you were okay.

Echo raised his arms toward his helmet, hesitating. This is when you noticed he was missing his arm, and the cybernetics in his legs. “I’m…different.” He uttered, seeing you staring. “I’m not the same.”

“Please…Echo…” You took a step closer to him, your legs still shaking, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I need to see you. I don’t care.”

You watched as his shoulders fell, still hesitating to take off his bucket, preparing himself for the worst. He sighed, sliding it off his head, revealing his shaved head and ports in his skull. You were momentarily shocked at his sullen and pale appearance, not from disgust or fear, but from what he must have been through to come back to you.

These were all questions for later.

He looked different, yes. But it was undeniably him based on the look in his eyes. Maker, his eyes. Those eyes that used to look at you with so much fondness, loyalty, and love. Now they were swimming with sadness, fear, and uncertainty.

It was him, there was no doubt in your mind.

You launched yourself at him, Echo not knowing if you were coming at him for an attack or an embrace. Surprising him, it was the latter. You swung your arms around his neck, pulling him into you, sobbing his name over and over into his chest. His helmet clattered to the ground at the shock and impact of your embrace.

Too many emotions were threatening to explode out of you. Happiness, disbelief, shock, anger, everything. All you could do was cry. You spent so long thinking he was dead, your grief almost swallowing you alive every day. But he was here, breathing, real.

Your legs were weak again, desperately hanging on to him. Echo’s arm came around you, holding you in place, not knowing if he even deserved to touch you, keeping his scomp arm hanging at his side.

You stayed like that for a while, gripping him tightly, letting everything you’ve been keeping in for so long out, your body heaving with every sob of his name. He rested his chin on your head, wanting to say so much, tell you everything, but it was caught in his throat. He felt his tears swell at the corner of his eyes, hearing your cries knowing the torment you must have been carrying around with you since he was gone. He felt guilty.

Finally, you had no more tears left to cry. You steadied your breath, pulling away from his chest, looking up at him. He refused to meet your gaze, his expression grim.

“Echo, look at me.”

“I’m not who I used to be.” Echo’s voice was low. “I understand if you don’t-“

You didn't let him finish, crashing your lips against his, gripping the back of his head, putting everything you had into this kiss. All the sadness and loneliness lifting away from you, feeling his lips once again, hearing his voice. The same soft lips from your memories, what you dreamed about every single night.

Echo melted at your intense kiss, his insecurities forgotten momentarily as he felt your body against his, something real and whole. He hadn’t stopped thinking about you ever since he was torn from the machines, wondering if you’d still want him, if he could even find you.

You pulled away, gasping, your face still wet from the tears. You kissed him again, this time all over his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead, everywhere you could get your lips. You wanted to show him that you still loved him, you didn’t care if he was different. He was still Echo, the man you loved.

His body was shaking against yours, wanting to touch you, show you how much he missed you. He couldn’t for fear of hurting you, waiting for you to recoil once you realized what he had become.

Broken. Unworthy. More machine than man.

“Echo, you’re still you. You’re alive.” You whispered between kisses. “Whatever happened…I’m just glad you’re with me. I love you no matter what.”

Now it was his turn to hold on to you tightly, wrapping both his arms around you, careful not to rib you with his scomp. He was still getting used to his new body.

“I love you.” He whispered, his voice trembling. “I never stopped loving you.” He buried his face into your hair, inhaling your fragrance. “You kept your promise.” You muttered. “You came back to me.” You looked up at him, gently caressing the side of his face. A faint smile ghosted at his lips, his expression softening, realizing you might not run away from him, after all.

“I told you I’d come back to you.” He leaned down toward you, pressing his forehead against yours, not wanting to let you go. “I never stopped loving you either, Echo.” He squeezed you tighter as you both stood there, embracing one another, your broken hearts healing with every passing second.

“You’re leaving.” He spoke finally, your empty apartment hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

“I am…yeah. I thought…I had nothing left here.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster. “That I put you through this…”

“Echo…you don’t need to apologize for anything.” You leaned back from him, nodding toward your bedroom. “Lay down with me?” Echo felt panic rise his chest. The thought of being intimate with you and exposing his body was too much, even though he desperately wanted you.

You saw the panic in his eyes. “No! Not like that. I just want to…be with you. Is that okay?” Echo nodded, feeling relieved. He followed you into the bedroom. A familiar feeling washed over him, remembering the nights he would stay over. Sharing kisses, whispering loving confessions under the sheets, always wishing you had more time. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was almost surreal, being back here, with you.

The room was devoid of all your personal belongings now, just the bed in the middle of the room. Things were going to be different from here on out, but maybe it was for the best. It was time for both of you to move on, together.

You sat down at the edge of the bed, Echo sitting next to you. You took his hand, entwining it with yours. He leaned against you, feeling the warmth of your hand on his, his heart threatening to explode.

You were still the same kind, gentle person you always were. The way you gazed at him…it was like nothing had changed. He felt whole. The anxiety in his chest lessened, becoming aware that you didn’t care how he looked. Echo leaned in, giving you a chaste kiss. “You’re leaving too, aren’t you?” You whispered against his lips.

He nodded. “There’s a squad…I’m heading out with soon.” Echo replied. You knew he couldn’t quit the soldier lifestyle, just like he knew you couldn't quit helping those in need. It was who you were, and why you loved one another. You laid backward, bringing Echo with you. You cuddled up against his side, your hand still in his. You both had so much you wanted to say, but there was time for that later. For now, you just wanted to hold one another.

“I’ll still keep my promise.” Echo mumbled against you, squeezing your hand. “I’ll always come back to you, mesh’la. Always.”

@wanderer-six

[decimatlas]

❛ This world is cruel, but I still love you. ❜

Independent and selective multi-muse blog. Contains both canon and original characters from various media, including: Shingeki No Kyojin, Star Wars, Marvel, DC, Doctor Who and more.

Written by Bree. Google Doc. Promo Credit.

[ghostlygeto]

real late to this but i’m so so glad we’re friends and ily lots even if you refuse the gojo twerk affection (you have no idea who i am)

anonymously tell me how you feel about me !

[mroddmod]

tried the blind color palette challenge a few times with some suggested characters :))

[misstoodles-doodles]

Safe & Sound 💙

I just really wanted someone to give Echo a blanket so why not let it be Rex

Closeups T-T:

Bonus Doodle:

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: if you have stuck around and waited u are INCREDIBLE thank u so much for ur patience <3 esp cos i'm still testing it with my slowburn lmao + tell me what u think lovelies and as always, enjoy

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

CHAPTER TEN :: SHADOWS

Azriel is a spy by his very nature.

It makes sense; the gift of Shadowsinger is never bestowed so lightly so that it could ever leave any doubt of the user. Shadowsingers are spies, even well before their gifts revealed themselves. Always watching. Always listening.

It was, then, a tad against his disposition to keep his nose out business that wasn't his — as that was precisely what Azriel did best.

But his decision was resolute. Azriel had promised himself he would not be the first to break the distance between you two.

However, for a fae over five-hundred years old, it's quite unsettling to yet again feel the pangs of impatience. Years of practicing restraint and then, in a mere few months, his hard earned patent for patience begins to fray at the ends. You'll be his undoing, he's sure of it.

Like a young and fresh-faced warrior itching for battle, it's almost embarrassing how Azriel can't seem to stay away from you. His feet wander and all paths lead to you.

His shadows are not helping.

Azriel thinks they've managed to get more insistent, which he hadn't really believe was possible. They've proven him oh-so wrong. When he walks the halls of the House of Wind, the dark wisps dart out, as though trying to tug him along.

He had trusted them all of two times before, face flushed and with an ungraceful but thankfully unnoticed exit, he learned just where they were leading him.

They were following the invisible thread between you, taking him to see his mate.

When it became clear he wasn't going to be coerced along, his shadows had only got more devious.

It's a particular brand of torture, Azriel thinks, to be delivered little parcels of knowledge of the person he's not allowing himself to see.

And they're ruthless about it. Whispers about how you're healing and the growing steadiness of your feet, the way you stand a little taller each day, about the tentative trust extended to Cassian.

Gods, that one had made his hand jerk across the paper in surprise, spilling a patch of ink onto the report he was in the middle of.

You were talking to Cassian— no, you were nearly friends with Cassian. The magnanimous hope had ballooned within him before Azriel remembered to stomp it back down.

Mor had teased him for the black stains on his hands during dinner.

He studies them now, nearly washed away completely, before he lifts his head. In the cool air of dusk, Azriel surveils the training ring from the shadows of the door, eyes scanning across the balcony.

It's empty, as expected. The rising moon is his only company.

You've stuck to training in the mornings, of course.

He's relieved and disappointed all at once—then Azriel forces that disappointment out of his system with a frustrated huff.

He is not allowed to be disappointed. Your trust is something he still needs to claw his way back to, to earn, and that required waiting and accepting that.

Azriel would see you... when you wanted to see him.

Despite his resolve, the thread between you still gives a futile tug before he can stop it. Scowling at himself, he rubs at his chest meanly, banishing the feeling. He steps down onto the balcony and heads towards the equipment.

As his scarred hands reach out and pluck one of the training staffs off the rack, his shadows twirls and trill, an almost teasing motion. It takes one pointed whisper, one tug on his heartstrings —they used that one just earlier today— before his hands are glowing warm from the second-hand touch.

His fingers spring apart and the staff hits the tiles with a loud clatter. Even though it's just him out on the balcony, he still casts an awkward glance around him. Gods

If his brothers could see him now, Azriel thinks dryly.

He swats at the shadow that had unhelpfully fed him the information. It dances away from him, swooping down to circle the staff on the ground with its others, a mass of black surrounding it.

Azriel bends down and gingerly picks up the staff, his hazel eyes staring at it for a long moment. Where your hands have been.

After a moment, his fingers curl around it. His marred hands feel like they're glowing again, warm and tingling, even if he knows it's all in his mind. Even so, he swears the golden thread between you hums, just ever so slightly.

He'll allow himself this, just this once, Azriel decides. His grip tightens and he heads to the ring, preparing to train, his hands where yours were just mere hours before.

—

The day after you had met Cassian, as the dawn breaks over sky, you find him on the training balcony before you.

You're a little later than you'd normally be, the sun actually rising before you do. You're moving a little more sluggishly too, but for once it's for a better reason.

Sleep, normally light and fitful for you, had actually been a reprieve last night. You slept deeply, falling into dreamless slumber and resting properly.

When morning crept in, dragging your eyelids up had felt like a mountainous amount of effort. Part of you wonders if it's because of the male across the balcony from you.

Allies, you had agreed upon.

It's a little easier to rest when you've made one less enemy.

Watching him now, stretching his supple and bulging arms, you have to force down the instilled anxiety that festers up, a force of habit that's kept you safe all these years.

You're not in Exordor anymore. You're not keeping any secrets.

Cassian clocks your hesitant stance in the doorway as he turns, a wide grin breaking across his face. His wings perk up, a genuine sign of his excitement. He stops his stretching momentarily to wave.

"Morning!" He calls out, despite the fact the distance between you doesn't require him to do so.

"Ally." He adds pointedly, leaning over to give an over the top wink.

Somewhere buried deep inside you, a laugh almost wants to wriggle free, but it's smothered before you can think too hard. You give him a wry smile instead, the best you can manage, and take a tentative step down onto the balcony. Your wings give a tiny shiver in the passing breeze.

"Good morning," You manage to return, the words sticking in your throat on the way up. It's awkward but nothing in Cassian's friendly demeanor changes to indicate he's noticed. Your feet lead you over towards the weapons rack.

It's as you reach them do you realise your heart is rabbiting wildly, pounding in your chest, stewing you in discomfort. The hair on the back of your neck rises, prickling with unease. Your back is turned to a fierce warrior, one that could very well attack you.

And worse, you'll be training next to him, still not healed, still stumbling on your feet—revealing all the ways to strike you down.

You—you haven't done this, ever. You haven't trained with someone completely as yourself, with no facade to hide beneath. It suddenly becomes incredibly vulnerable.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the training staff and you try your best to swallow down your nerves.

Cassian has kept his distance, resuming his stretches, but you don't miss how his eyes dance over to you every couple of seconds. For a moment, it alarms you but as you find a place and settle into your stance, you steal another glimpse.

It's more like... a dog wagging its tail, you think faintly.

You press down the urge to smile and begin your exercises.

There's all of ten minutes of silence before it gets broken.

"How do you like Velaris?"

You pause in your motions, huffing to catch your breath as your grip the training staff loosens. You cast a glance over at Cassian who's now picked up one of the broadswords, beginning to throw its weight around easily.

You blink and for a moment, your eyes dart out over the edge of the balcony, to the city teeming with life, so close and yet so far from you. A part of you aches fiercely to see it.

"I... haven't been into the city." You answer honestly. It comes out curt and doesn't exactly answer his question.

Eyeing his sword nervously, your force your aching muscles through another series of exercises. You're a sliver better than the day before but when your ear twinges loudly, you still stumble, a minuscule motion. Your heart lurches up your throat, frustration welling like a tidal wave within you.

"Okay, then how do you like the House of Wind?"

You pause again, looking over to Cassian tentatively, the pain in your ear momentarily forgotten. The rising frustration in you dissipates at the distraction. He waves a casual hand over to the house you've been residing in since you arrived in Velaris and smiles once more.

You swallow thickly. What is his angle here?

"I haven't..." You struggle to put your thoughts into words. It's... different. New. Unsettling. You don't want to say the wrong thing. For all you know, this may well be his home.

Eventually, you find your voice. "I like my room. It's—" Several words ping to the front of your mind. "—big."

You cringe. Some compliment that is. You're too honest even if it is true; you're far too used to the familiar cramped space of your own cabin. Even sharing walls with others is foreign to you and you're incredibly thankful you haven't run into anyone unexpectedly in any corridors yet.

It doesn't occur to you that it might entirely be by design, thanks to Rhys' strict instruction.

Cassian grins. "Yes, I recall Illyria being hardly known for it's roomy cabins."

He swings the sword around with a flick of his wrist, more like an idle motion than anything. Your eyes still flicker down keenly, watching for any threat, just in case.

"So, you haven't explored the house much then?" Cassian continues, feigning a stab forward with the sword, his eyes on his motions but his attention still focused primarily on you.

You follow his lead and swing the training staff again, in an arching whoosh. You shake your head in answer to his question.

"Do you want to?"

"Do you always talk this much during training?"

The words come out before you can think to check them, sucking in a sharp breath as you realise how snappy that sounded. Like you're looking for a fight.

You ready yourself to sink into a defensive stance, before you realise that Cassian has only laughed in response. A curl of his tied back hair comes loose as he shakes his head, the action almost... fond.

"Only when I'm trying to make friends." He grins warmly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Sorry, I'll stop prying."

You swallow and nod slightly, hoping it won't be read as rude. Though you'd had a hard time believing it, Cassian had been true to his word; no fighting unless it was in the ring. You hadn't dared to go near it yet.

Readjusting your stance, you prepared to go through the motions once more. It's still a bit more of the juvenile exercises than you're used to—forced back to the basics as you retrain your body—but also because you're solitary training. You're used to sparring with others.

Stealing a glimpse at Cassian, you ponder if—if you might, eventually that is, train alongside him as you had done with Azriel.

Moving the training staff deftly, you thrust it forward and twist your lithe body to dart forward again, a small patter of your feet on the stone.

It's maneuver used for rushing opponents, throwing them off their balance and driving them backwards. It works for you, mostly, but the way your wings cut through the air, the slightest whistle through the holey scars, makes you a little unsteady.

"You fight like you're bigger than you are."

Straightening up, you breathe heavily and peer around the edges of your wings back at Cassian—who apparently isn't done talking at all.

He nods to you, in reference the maneuver you've just performed. "That is a move usually far better suited for someone of a larger stature."

You clear your throat, wings curling in a bit closer around you. "Yes. Azriel, he- he was trying to rectify that. There's only one way to train Illyrians, as I'm sure you know."

Cassian nods again, lowering the sword to hang at his side. "That I do. However, I feel Azriel may have been taking the wrong approach given... the information he was not privy to at the time."

Your brows knit together, something wrong twisting tightly in your chest.

"Because I'm..."

Female.

"Not a male?"

The words come out sharp without meaning to.

Cassian's picks up on your defensiveness, his expression softening. He gives a little so-so motion with his free hand, his wings rustling behind him. "A bit, but not for reasons you may think."

When you don't speak, he continues, his explanation unfurling.

"Your centre of gravity is different to ours. That actually changes the best way for you to fight. More of your strength comes from these—"

He slaps his hands down onto his thighs with a grin.

"—than from your arms. For that reason, there are moves you will be better at than what you've been taught."

Cassian cocks his head, his dark eyes squinting for a moment, deep in thought. "Azriel likely switched your training to agility based, didn't he?"

You nod gingerly. You had no idea if what he was said was true. If there was a fighting style suited to females. That would require... female warriors which, for all you've ever known, is a highly unlikely thing to exist.

Though, being he is the General of the Night Court's armies, you'd likely assume Cassian knows what he's talking about.

He nods, that same easy smile. "He was right to do so. Most camps focus on brute strength and stamina. Makes for good warriors that can take hits and keep going. You can train that way if you still wish but you might find you excel when your efforts are put elsewhere."

It takes a long moment before you realise exactly what his words mean.

An offer. He's offering to train you, to teach you.

Pleasant surprise blooms inside you, warm, curling up behind your ribs like a purring cat. Cassian's eyes are light and friendly, his body language relaxed as though if you turn him down, it'd be of no consequence to him. Merely an offer.

You turn it over in your mind, back and forth. The gentle wind from the mountains caresses across your cheekbones, a warm touch.

Inside, deep in your chest, there's something telling you to trust. To take the step forward, to accept Cassian's outstretched proposal. That you might regret it if you didn't.

"How?" Your eyes skirt up and down on instinct, still on alert for a threat that isn't coming.

Cassian grins infectiously, not even attempting to hide his glee. He rolls his shoulders back and assesses you once more.

"Have you ever heard of the headscissor takedown?"

—

Flesh hits stone, a large shuddering bang that echoes out the courtyard. In the distance, a couple birds take flight, squawking loudly. Pain ricochets through your knees, a warbling and jarring pain that has you gritting your teeth.

"You're..." Cassian's breath comes out raggedly. "Incredible!"

He beams from where he's pinned beneath you and your pain dashes away in a moment, something gleaning and prideful taking its place.

There's a rivulet of blood under his nose, his hair knocked loose, and you know hitting the ground as hard as he did won't have been nice. He continues on as if he hasn't.

"That was perfect form. You're a Cauldron-born natural!"

You huff a breath that might be an actual laugh this time and quickly retract yourself, standing to your feet. You waver momentarily, hesitance poisoning your thoughts, before you decide. Holding out your hand to help, Cassian is quick to put his hand in your own and use it to lug himself up.

When he gets to his feet, his grip loosens but he doesn't let go altogether.

"Hey," He says, more serious this time. His fingers around your wrist, soft and warm, still make your pulse jump nervously. You force yourself to meet his gaze, still friendlier than ever. "Seriously. You're very skilled and you're a fast learner. You've got the makings to be lethal. The Night Court is lucky to have you on our side."

His hand slips back, grazing your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips a beat.

No one has ever been... lucky to have you. It's so foreign that hearing someone say it aloud makes you forget to breath for one long second.

"I—" The word pushes out before you think about it. "That's... You-"

Praise is not a part of Illyrian training. You fumble with it, feeling entirely out of your depth, feeling oddly proud of yourself. It feels like your cheeks are warmer than usual.

Cassian chuckles, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "You're welcome." He says pointedly, making you realise you're supposed to say thank you after someone compliments you.

You flounder for another second, making Cassian laugh again, louder this time. He reaches forward and lightly taps you on the shoulder, a faux punch.

"You'll get used to it." He says. Part of you really, really wants to. "Now, c'mon. Let's go again. Hit me."

—

You think that now Cassian's got what he wanted—the two of you training together, learning the plethora of new moves, stances, blocks he has in his repertoire—he wouldn't have anymore questions.

You're sorely, sorely, wrong.

Two mornings later, the pair of you prepare for some sparring with the swords in the ring. Cassian's purposefully picked one of the heavier ones for himself, broad and long, but he'd put aside a blade for you.

It's smaller, lighter. It reminds you of Heartstriker.

Which reminds you of Azriel.

The mere thought of him has your heart humming, miserable and elated all at once. You're still not sure if you'd like to see him just yet, the confusing twist of betrayal too fresh, but still, some part of you seeks him out, consciously or not.

You want to wander the halls until you find the door to leads to him.

It's because he was your first friend. You reason, as you step up towards the sparring ring. He was the first person you trusted. Was? Is—maybe.

Do you still trust him?

Cassian is already in the ring, waiting as patiently as he can. His rustling wings give him away, even as casual as he looks leaned up against one of the corner posts.

His wings are stretched out, towards the sun's rays that are just beginning to slip over the horizon, trying to steal some of their warmth.

A yawn slips past your lips. The night of restful sleep was an outlier it seemed, the tendrils of a calming, easy sleep stolen away just as quickly.

Fingers curling around the hilt of the short sword, you step gingerly into the ring, eyes casting across to your opponent. You roll your shoulders back, warming up the muscles a bit more, and give your own wings a little shake. A shiver wracks through you in response, the chill of the morning touching on sensitive scars.

"Is there a particular reason Azriel is avoiding you?"

Your head snaps up at the sound of Cassian's voice, cool and calm.

He hasn't shifted, though his wings are tucked back in now. His sword is still relaxed at his side, his worn hand tucked around the hilt of it freely.

The usual chattiness that Cassian has been able to coax out of you these last few days shrivels up. Azriel is avoiding you? You hadn't wanted to see him but this—something curls up inside you, sour and foul. You swallow hard.

"I hadn't realised." You murmur, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your words.

Cassian blinks and seems to realise his mistake. He waves a hand dismissively, as if it can scratch away his last words. "I misspoke. I believe he is... keeping his distance."

He furrows his brow, face pinched, picking his words carefully. "For your sake." He adds.

You... don't know how you feel about that. On one hand, you're relieved. It's not by pure chance that you haven't seen him yet, it's purposeful—he's keeping out of your way, giving you peace.

On the other hand, something twined in your chest pangs sorrowfully, mourning the distance between you.

While Cassian's presence as an ally (or perhaps, you'll even admit, a friend) is comforting, you'll admit it does not fill the same shape in you as Azriel does. You miss him, quite terribly so.

"What makes you think he's avoiding me?" You ask.

Cassian gives an little shrug, his head tilting to the side just a bit. He smiles in a way that tells you he knows more than he lets on. Or maybe, he simply knows Azriel far better than you do.

"He usually trains in the morning." He explains nonchalantly. "He's taken to training at night since your arrival."

You frown at the new information. You don't want Azriel to be changing things for you, to bend and warp his routines in his home, just for you. You don't want him to avoid you either, even if you're beginning to think you might never be brave enough to face him.

He left you. He was your first friend and the betrayal of that is entirely too new— but you don't know where to draw the line.

You don't know for how long you're allowed to be upset — or how long you can let this go on before you're punishing yourself just as much as you are him.

Flexing your grip on the sword, you stare across at Cassian and when you open your mouth, the words tumble out with warning.

"He..." Your breath hitches.

Something awful hooks into your chest, remembering the way he had folded himself into shadows, away from you. The look on his face.

"He left me. When I needed him more than ever." You admit.

Your voice doesn't waver but Cassian can still see the slight tremble in your shoulders, rolling in. Your eyes have dropped to study the floor of the sparring ring, seemingly lost in the memory.

Cassian's face softens, his heart aching for you. You don't even notice how your own wings have begun to curl in, a soft, comforting blanket around yourself.

It's clear you're struggling to juggle the myriad of emotions that haunt you and he gets it, Mother, does he get it. It had been hard the first time, during those first tentative months of friendship with Rhys, before Azriel was even in the picture. Cassian had one emotion that served him any purpose and that was spite.

Spite kept him alive. Spite told him who to knock down and who to put down.

Friendships and spite are not the greatest combination. When Rhys had done something Cassian had vehemently disagreed with, it had felt like a deception, stinging as badly as the backhand from Lord Devlon, sneering the word bastard.

It took time to undo the messy tangle of emotions, to learn that not all betrayal fell into the same box. That forgiveness for some people was not weakness at all.

So, Cassian asks. "Did he come back?"

You glance up at him, eyes flickering with emotion at the question. After a moment, you swallow and say. "Yes. He did."

Cassian nods. He stretches his wings out a bit and reaches up to push a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"Alright. How long do you intend to punish him for that mistake?"

You freeze at that question and Cassian can tell he's hit the right spot. You're unsure how long you should—because all you know is that you're hurt. And when you're hurt, you don't know any other way to deal with it.

There's only one pathway ingrained for when someone hurts you. Cassian realises suddenly, Mother help him, that he must try to be good at the talking side of things. He needs to show you there's other ways you can go.

"Because," He continues, not waiting for your answer. "I can assure you that Azriel will punish himself for far longer and far harsher than you ever will. I've known my brother a long time. If there anyone who understands the gravity of his actions and will torture himself over them, it's Azriel."

A hesitant expression shutters across your face, your brows furrowing slightly. Cassian doesn't need Rhys' daemati gift to understand the conflict that's battling within you.

"You think I should forgive him."

You don't pose it as a question. A little bit more of that iciness has bled back into your voice, on guard again.

Cassian can tell that, like him, you don't take well to being told what to do. That's fine; Cassian has no intention of doing that whatsoever.

"I think that is your decision entirely." Cassian says, letting the words breathe so they truly sink in. He watches as your eyes narrow momentarily and then your shoulders relax, sinking down an inch.

"But," He says gingerly. "If you avoid each other, you might never move past this. Might never move forward. It might be worth considering what you really want at the end of the day."

The sun has properly broken across the mountain ridges, no longer just sparse rays. You turn your face, facing towards the warmth. There's still that scrunch between your eyebrows, betraying your deep thought, but Cassian has said enough for now.

He moves his sword and taps the end of it against the stone, a soft steel ping grabbing your attention. You whip your head back to face him and Cassian grins, raising his sword.

"Enough talking. More fighting."

You smile, a little hesitant but entirely genuine, and raise your sword in response. That's one thing you're sure you know how to do right.

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

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@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

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@lovingkelj @itsswritten @breadsticks2004 @marina468 @sapphena

[the-bi-space-ace]

For the first month after Echo joins the batch he’s lowkey convinced Crosshair is trying to kill him. Mainly bc Crosshair follows him everywhere and glares in his general direction, pops up anywhere he is, chews on toothpicks at him, and is generally a bit overbearing. It’s only after he overhears Wrecker tease Crosshair about ‘imprinting on Echo’ that he even realizes that this man is a protective oversized cat who can’t vocalize anything but will instead trot after him to every room, sit quietly next to him, and bring him cool rocks he found as if they’re the product of a successful hunt.

Echo brings Crosshair the next pack of novelty toothpicks he finds.

[prodigal-sunlight]

She’s having SO much fun on her adventure you guys she loves being a criminal outlaw

(The wanted posters cracked me up so hard man)

[spocks-kaathyra]

WAIT okay I don't know how to word this at all but basically the way we perceive speech sounds is through like. different frequencies are amplified or dampened by the ways we shape our vocal tract and we hear those differences in like which frequencies are louder and which frequencies are quieter and that's how we recognize different phonemes. or something. so if like aliens have a different hearing range and/or differently shaped vocal tracts they could have an entirely different phonemic inventory than human languages??? like shrimp colors but it's alien phonemes???? this might seem like a really obvious realization but like those guys could be distinguishing vowels based on formants we can't even perceive!! their hearing range could start above 5000 hz and they wouldn't be able to hear the difference between any of our vowels!! enough with giving klingon uvular plosives or whatever to make it sound ""exotic"" that shit should be UNPRODUCIBLE with a human vocal tract and UNPERCEIVABLE with human ears!! no wonder they need universal translators when your ears could be physically unable to distinguish between alien phonemes??? sorry I'm realizing that this really is an incredibly obvious thought just couched in overly technical language but I'm excited about it nonetheless. spock's surname is unpronounceable bc it's got a bunch of consonant clusters? NO it actually has secret vulcan phonemes distinguished by differences in frequencies above the human range of hearing so u can't even perceive it correctly let alone pronounce it. cardassians have a hearing range significantly smaller than humans so they physically cannot understand most human languages...

[sanchoyoscribbles]

cute wand? ✔️

magical powers? ✔️

cute little mascot? ✔️

saves the world? ✔️

she is a magical girl...

[hawktims]

FELLOW TRAVELERS (2023) 1.06: BEYOND MEASURE

[butteriish]

he deserves the entire world <33

[asterparfait]

[someawkwardnerd]

i love outer wilds <3 i love experiencing the death of the universe <3

[rebornofstars]

hello!! just wondering whether anyone would be interested in a September-based art & writing event focussed on celebrating the female characters in the LU fandom?

i've been thinking about trying to organise something like this for a few months now, but i'm finally speaking up, because this morning i had an idea...

we could call it:

✨Sepfember✨

anyway, if you'd be interested in a september event, let me know!

[echosong971]

Your Lies Of P art rocks.

Thank you!!! ^v^

Here's a lil sketchy wip, as a treat <3