#weaving to reclaim

[austin-friars]

"I've worn a veil all my life, and only now...do I realize, how far my hair falls past my knees."

Lady Elizabeth to the Clergy

[aevaliaravenskye]

[curiosandcurioser]

and when Nina George said, "The sea was the first thing he had found that was large enough to absorb his sorrow" and when Olivia Gatwood said "and the sea, of course, the sea, its moody push and pull, the way we drill into it, fill it with our trash, take and take and take from it and still it holds us each time we walk into it"

when albert camus said “the sea; i didnt lose myself in it. i found myself in it” and when sylvia plath said “if i lived by the sea i would never be really sad” and when hozier said “love, when the sea rises to meet us” and when an anonymous writer said “and yet my heart wanders away, my soul roams with the sea” and when homer said “I’d rather die at sea”

[moirasburton]

Foyer - Farmhouse Entry Large farmhouse entryway with a medium-tone wood floor, gray walls, and a dark wood front door.

[joriekerottier]

untitled (yet) 2023

coming into existence, being weaved/weaving, connection/seperation, being carried/protected

[its-your-mind]

ALWAYS rotating TAZ: Balance around in my brain like microwave but ESPECIALLY with the announcement of The Suffering Game graphic novel

The dope thing they can do (and are doing) with the graphic novel series is sprinkle in moments of foreshadowing and hints to the reader about what REALLY might be going on here, which is so cool and I’m a huge fan of it, especially when you’re telling a story in this form.

But what is REALLY FUCKING TASTY about Balance as a story is that none of the motherfuckers telling it had any clue what they were doing when they started

Gerblins is dick jokes and not knowing how dice work and making fun of each other for voices. LICHRALLY the scene where Taako grabs the Umbrastaff is immediately proceeded by Clint trying different voices for Merle while Justin begs him to stop, as Taako. Merle gets launched across the room cuz he failed his save, and now Taako has an umbrella. The scene moves on.

Griffin brought them up to the BOB, introduced them to the Director, and gave them memories of a war fought over nameless, lost, powerful but mysterious artifacts. The memory that Taako takes from it is the idea of soured cream (ya know, for his taco quest).

And then they’re off, on different adventures, making friends, saving lives, making more dick jokes, and Griffin is in the background, slowly building in the meta-plot, as all DMs do.

But this meta-plot was HUGE. It was ALL-CONSUMING. It completely changes everything we know about this world and these characters. It takes the moments of dick jokes, and arguments about character voices, and flirting with death, and adds a layer of tragedy and complexity that just wasn’t present the first time they told that story.

AND THAT’S WHY THIS STORY KICKS ASS. The vibe of the story changed as Tres Horny Boys grew closer and closer to remembering the lives they had lost, as Griffin upped the stakes, as people started dying. They still don’t know shit for most of The Suffering Game, but you absolutely could not have predicted the tone of that arc after just listening to Gerblins. It sounds like a completely different story. And so when the other shoe drops, when shit breaks bad, when it’s the end of the world… again, and they have to reclaim their Stolen Century…

It makes sense. The tone has shifted enough to accommodate that kind of change. The characters have grown (back) into themselves enough to make this work.

Because TAZ: Balance is a tragedy. But the tragedy happened before the podcast even started, and had been erased. So of course it started off with goofs and dildo jokes. Of course the three of them started being standoff-ish with each other and making light of every situation that should have had a lot more weight. They didn’t know what they had lost, and we, the audience, didn’t either. So it was easy to laugh and joke… until slowly, it wasn’t so much anymore.

Plenty of people have praised Griffin’s storytelling abilities, but I think the thing that was most impressive to me was how he took the disparate threads laid out behind the Boys on their adventures, and followed them backwards, into the story they had lost, and forwards, into the ending they earned. I fucking love that he settled on Istus as the deity to interact with them, because I don’t think there’s a better representation of the story Griffin was weaving behind the scenes of the arcs.

Story and Song wasn’t really an arc driven by dice rolls and role playing - but it wasn’t railroading either. Griffin took every story they had told, every happy ending they had fought for, and twined them around and through each other. The world was saved not because of a lucky nat 20 roll, but because every person they had helped through the story came out in force to fight beside them to save their world.

And so in the end, the Stolen Century was a tragedy. But The Adventure Zone: Balance was a story of hope, of family, of the power that just a few loveable doofuses can have when they move through the world, making friends and saving lives. So when the world was ending and they needed help, there were dozens of people waiting to hear the Story and the Song that would give them the push they needed to fight, and the hope they needed to win.

[towertea]

op is a terf

“reclaiming femininity” SHUT UP SHUT UP you can’t reclaim something that is expected of you and that you are actively punished for not engaging in shut up shut up shut up pink capitalism has won im going to chew glass a

[ineylesian]

— FELL ON BLACK DAYS

AVENTURINE X FEM! READER

AO3 | NAVIGATION

WORD COUNT — 9.5k

WARNINGS — spoilers for penacony’s storyline, enemies (??) to lovers, slowburn fr (it gets good i promise) mentions of genocide, mentions of child exploitation (not explicit), weapons & violence, smut, fem anatomy reader, sub!aventurine, mentions of traumatic events, one bed troupe

SUMMARY — Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last. 

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — AHHH i love aventurine so much he made me write again <333 i will defend this man to the end of the earth i swear. also holy word vomit, this is officially my longest piece!!

“BREAKING NEWS: Reports incoming that the International Peace Corporation has been seen with an employee suspected of Avgin origin from the planet Sigonia-IV. All habitants from this world were thought to have been wiped out or lost to the galaxy, so the appearance of this mysterious individual has grasped the attention of–”

The broadcast slowly fades into the background, overtaken by the synth and snare of a song that lightly shakes the ground at your feet. 

Sometimes you’re better of dead–

“Oh, you think you’ll be an asset? You’ll have to learn to make tough decisions on the go here if you want to succeed, so tell me…”

There’s a gun in your hand, it’s pointing at your head–

“You want to help this clan? Help claim this world and rid it from the remaining filth that roams?”

There’s a piercing screech amidst the bar, the high pitched wail of the speaker blasting the music fighting against the volume. A few seconds pass before the song picks back up again, a few lyrics skimmed through.

Which do you choose, a hard or soft option? (How much do you need?)

In a West End town, a dead end world, The East End boys and the West End girls–

“...”

“Before your initiation, you must make a prayer to the winds and mountains. Do you swear to devote your thoughts and beliefs to them, and reclaim the glory of Sigonia-IV?”

We’ve got no future, we’ve got no past

Here today, built to last–

“I swear.”

The bass fades and you’re left standing amidst a crowd of chatting people, some high on buzz, others passed out beside the restroom. Your eyes slowly fix forward, coming to a halt as the masses shift in formation, curving in a circle around the biggest table in the casino. Lined with forest green felt and red chips, hands bang against the surface joined in a cry of frustration. 

“God damn it. This is rigged!” A player screams, hot-faced and teeth grit. “YOU!”

He stomps his way around the table, stopping at the dealer’s chair, failing to gain any attention despite the magnitude of his boots on the floor. In retaliation, the man takes a fistfull of the dealer’s hair, spinning him violently around and grabbing the collar around his neck.

Seldom have there been times where you didn’t see him in this sort of setting, a man with glasses that carried the same orange tint as the drink in his hand, die mounted between his fingers as he speaks with a wealthy patron. His words weave like velvet on a fine tailored suit as he invites you to play a game of chance, and before the game has even begun, you’ve lost.

His name is Aventurine, and, just as his reputation precedes him, the corners of his lips turn upward as you enter his field of view. He is never one to be down on luck.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to exit the casino. The drinks have riled you up a bit too much, and I’m afraid you’re no longer sober enough to keep playing.”

The smell of outlandish alcohol hits your nose in a foul wave as he turns, rudely shrugging your hand off of his shoulder. 

“And who do you think you are? Protecting this weasel like that.” You take a step back as he advances, completely abandoning his grip on Aventurine as his gaze focuses on the emblem tailored to your shoulder. “You’re in on this scam too, aren’t you? Fuckin’ IPC, always looking to take money from people.” A sizable crowd has gathered at this point, and with that, guards are quick to stand at your side. You tilt your head to the side, extending a hand to gesture at the coat draped over his empty chair.

“You may gather your things and leave now, sir. Refusal to comply will result in you being forcibly removed.” 

A few more seconds of seething stares pass before he grumbles an insult toward you and rushes to gather his things, attempting to push the guards following him away. You sigh, turning to the dealer, who is now comfortable in his chair, feathered hat placed neatly on his lap as he shuffles the pool of cards pushed his way.

“Alright folks, now that’s over with, how about another–”

“Mr. Aventurine unfortunately won’t be able to join you all this round.” You quickly cut him off, laying the newly layered deck of cards onto the table. “May I have a word, please?”

The blonde takes a glance between you and the rest of the patrons at the table before nodding, allowing a charismatic smile to decorate his face as he slides the cards forward. 

“Of course. Miss Antonia, would you please find another dealer to step in for the remaining games?”

He gathers a kind nod from a nearby waitress, before turning to follow you outside of the casino. As the door opens, strong drafts of icy wind blow against your face, and you hear a shiver from behind.

“Sheesh, couldn’t we at least have talked inside? I didn’t come prepared to stand in the cold…”

You send a look his way, and Aventurine’s hands rise, lips pursed in faux apology. He pushes his glasses farther into his nose bridge as you lean against the casino’s exterior wall, shielding yourself from the chill. It’s clear he’s not taking you seriously, stifling out a yawn and rubbing his eyes before he even spares you a glance.

“Here to lecture me about the, wait…” His eyes suddenly narrow, honing in on your uniform. “Who are you?”

You remain silent, watching as he taps a few fingers against his forehead, thinking. The talisman of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department sits firmly laid into your uniform. A smoothly carved onyx, inferior to the cornerstone you know he possesses and certainly lacking in power. His eyes linger on the stone for a few moments, biting the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head back up.

“Never seen that stone before..” He says after a few seconds, voice substantially lower. “What rank are you?”

His gaze is opaque, on guard. You resist the urge to bite your lip, figuring lying in this kind of situation wouldn’t be the best decision. Subconsciously, you bring a hand up to your stone, adjusting your coat flap before bringing it back down. 

“P39.”

His eyebrows form a sharp line, but his lips remain flat. The lens behind thick shades linger on the stone, burning into the lights that reflect off of the darkness. He’s never seen someone who isn’t a part of the Ten Cornerstones wear something like this, so who are you?

“If you’re here to try and convince me to do something, I’m not interested. I’ve had enough orders drilled into my head since I came to Jarilo-VI.”

His forefront is confident, but you can see the hand that lingers at his side, struggling to stay put. It reeks of mild uncertainty, and a lack of security. He doesn’t feel safe when he’s not in control.

“I’m here to tell you that your assignment’s changed.” Your response is straight and to the point. There’s no room to betray any underlying feelings of guilt you may have from years passed. “You’ll be with me and my team, we’re going to the Loufu in three days to sort some business out. I suggest you finish your deals here before we go.”

“Well then.” Aventurine clicks his tongue, mild annoyance riding the smile that forms on his lips. “Let’s acquaint ourselves then, shall we? You must know who I am, so please allow me the pleasure of returning the favor.”

A small passage of frosty air rises into the atmosphere as he breathes, hand extending in formality. You take it, slowly shaking, taking in the defensive rise of his shoulders. It seems he has zero tolerance for strangers.

“Nice to meet you, Aventurine. They call this stone the onyx.”

–

The Interastral Peace Corporation only takes workers to be strong-minded and just as toughly willed. In the Strategic Investment Department, greed is a virtue, and wanting nothing but it all is a prayer. Those who earn their spot as a cornerstone will stop at no means to chase their desires. 

Aventurine values risk, but he always loves to have control in his corner. Without control, the chips in his hands are of no use, and his bargains crumble beneath him. 

A gambler's true nightmare, sitting right between his eyes.

Your relation to him is a true mystery, despite all of the digging he’s been doing after arriving at the Loufu. Despite the numerous deals you’ve closed together, he still fails to know anything about you, other than the fact that you have quick wit and fascinating knowledge of the universe. He won’t dare approach you directly, his inhibitions are too high and he knows too little.

However, there’s something off about you and that stone of yours. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before.

“Does the IPC really need that many funds to perform a vitality check on the Sky-Faring Commission? From what I remember, this is nearly triple the amount of last year’s fee.”

“Well, Helm Master, from what our reports say, you had agreed to the accumulation of interest based on reports of safety in the Loufu. Based on recent events, there has been a substantial raise in alarm concerning the safety of the citizens here. We hope you can understand.”

Aventurine unfolds his hands, sliding a glossy black dossier over to the woman known as Yukong. After skimming over the first page of analysis, she sighs, and places her hand over the cover.

“Is it possible that we could touch bases on this later this week? I need time to look over these documents and discuss them with my team before making any decisions.”

Biting back a groan of exasperation, you nod, politely shaking her hand and bowing your head when she stands. What you thought was going to be a quick excursion of debt collecting had turned into two long weeks of debate, and you’re starting to lose sleep. After Yukong exits, you run a hand through your hair, allowing the flow from the outside to flood your ears..

You can admit, the place they chose is certainly impressive in its theatrics, blooming with tall fountains of pristine water and a live band of foxians playing classical music on a mahogany stage. 

After a few minutes of jotting down notes you find yourself leaning against the bar’s edge, elbows cool against smooth wood. Your thoughts swirl like the vibrato of the woman singing a cover of a local song in a language unknown to you, but it’s calming, and you begin to itch with the desire to order a drink.

The waiter polishing glasses near you seems to pick up on your wants, quietly gesturing with her hand that she’ll take your order.

“A Rose in Rain, please.”

She makes your drink at an astonishing speed, sliding the glass next to your hands with a smile. You stare at the royal blue liquid sitting at the rim, contemplating if the hangover will be worth it.

Aventurine eyes the finger that rests along the base of the glass, humming quietly to himself. He figures there’s no better way to get to know someone than through a few drinks.

“You gonna drink that or keep staring at it?”

You turn your head, watching as he slides onto the barstool next to you. He raises his three outer fingers, ordering a small glass of Wintry Garden before turning to face you.

It’s been a long month with the Cornerstone. His approach remains restricted, evident in his snippets of sarcasm that he still doesn’t trust you. Your situation is… unusual, so you tolerate it. However, there still lies a fear within that he’ll go deeper than what’s for his own good.

“Do you usually drink? Or are you afraid to spill your guts?”

His words drip with conviction, blindly accusing you with the corners of his mouth tilted upward. It’s been too long, and he still doesn’t know a damn thing about you other than the stone you wear. He needs to flip this in his favor, fast.

Aventurine’s fingers drum against the bar’s edge as he picks up his drink, taking a small sip. The slight tilt of his head inclines you to start yours too, drinking half of the tall glass in one swig. His eyebrows raise in surprise when the drink hits the table, taking all but a few seconds to completely down the entirety of its contents, a resounding clink following.

When you don’t rush to finish your own drink, Aventurine chuckles, crossing his arms as he turns to face you fully. He’s eyeing you, daring smile plastered on his face.

“What, scared?”

He’s challenging you. And it works, since your drink is empty and you’re ordering a second round in a matter of seconds. Fizz sluggishly bubbles down your throat, followed by rich spots of thick, clear syrup.

A few drinks is all it takes for you to begin feeling lightheaded, pressing a palm into your eye to try and alleviate the nausea. Aventurine is at least 6 drinks in, setting down his next with an exaggerated sigh. Raising his hand for another, he lightly dings his glass against yours, the scent of redsunset sauce high on his breath.

“Let’s talk, Onyx.” He remarks, placing his hands on the table as the bartender comes over. “What’s the real deal with you? How come I haven’t seen you anywhere in the IPC and you show up in my faction one random day?”

You cough, attempting to clear your throat before you answer. It’s tough to keep your resolve with the amount of alcohol in your system.

“Maybe you’re just not perceptive enough, I’ve always been around.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like your answer. Another drink down.

“How many years have you worked for the IPC?”

“Almost 4 now.”

“What’s the entrance project that got you into the Strategy Department?”

You hesitate, and he grins, satisfied. This interrogation is going as planned.

“Well then? I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad, unless you’re more dangerous than you seem.”

It’s your turn to down a drink, wiping a small trace off of your chin as you think.

“Izumo.” You answer, short, watching as his fingers clasp tighter around the glass in his hand. Surprise.

“You really expect me to believe that?” He scoffs, a tinge of fire evident in his voice. “No one goes to Izumo any more, not after the slash.”

“You’d be surprised at the sheer amount of people that go to Magatsu no Morokami to uncover history. The IPC has their eyes set on valuable relics left behind from the war.”

He leans forward, dangerously close to your face. Past the thick orange lens of his aviators, you can see the irate spark in his eyes, alight with a plethora of shades you’ve never seen before.

“It’s not wise to lie to your superiors.”

You back away, sliding your card across the counter to the bartender. The moment Aventurine gets up to follow, you stop in your tracks, holding a small drive in his direction. You have some tricks up your sleeve, too.

“You’ll change your mind.”

He pauses, slightly bent over in a stupor of alcohol. 

“Best keep your cards close to your chest, Aventurine. Snooping in places you don’t belong bodes bad fortune.”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. Slowly, he takes the drive from your hand, leaning back onto the bar’s surface, eyebrows knit in thought. The world is suddenly too loud and amidst a flurry of harmonic bellows and blinding lights, you disappear. 

—

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGY INVESTMENT DEPARTMENT HQ | ONE MONTH LATER

“I guess I should apologize.”

Several weeks of absence. You look up from the papers on your desk, watching as Aventurine places your drive back on your desk. He straightens back up, waiting for you to respond.

“Understandable.” You answer, finalizing a document with a quick signature. “I would have had my apprehensions too.”

“Still do, but it’s better to work with someone you tolerate, right?”

You look up. He shrugs, eyeing the papers you have scattered around.

You had given him a flash drive with your report on Izumo, or, at least, a report on it. Sometimes things are left best buried. Still, Aventurine is certainly not stupid, and you know that. The final version of the report is vague and full of small incidents that contrast the planet’s true history There are inconsistencies, but he seems a little less hostile for the time being.

“Whatever you’re hiding from me, I intend to find out in due time. But I can’t do that if we’re at odds.” A hand is extended your way, held a little less straight and professional. “Let’s just try and hate each other a little less, huh?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you take his hand and shake it for the second time. Aventurine smiles at you, a little less pointedly, but still on guard.

“Friends it is, then.”

His grip tightens slightly at the proclamation, leaving your veins seared and eyes wavering. As if you just made a deal with the devil. Your gaze drags along the fancies of his coat, figuring this is just another gamble he’s won. Something closer to certain death; the passion for it intrigues you.

Sooner or later you’ll suffer the consequences of a lie, you tell yourself. There’s no good outcome when striking up an agreement with a gambler, especially one like Aventurine.

Especially when the gambler is holding a knife to your throat.

The blade is cool, barely holding back from your trachea. Leather gloves hold a fistfull of your hair, shoving you down onto the filing cabinet you were sifting through moments before. Your eyes dart around, only able to see the edge of his shoe pressing against your ankle and the papers you dropped scattered across the floor.

“Just as I thought we were getting along.” His spits, words slithering around your chest and settling around your neck. “It was only a matter of time before you slipped up.”

Confusion spreads across your features, and Aventurine scoffs. His shoe digs deeper into your achilles, and you stagger against the metal. 

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Your words come out choked, gasping for air against Aventurine’s hold.

“That man, the one you had a long conversation with at the meeting tonight? You two seemed to get along.” Aventurine’s breath runs short out of anger, grip scalding against your skin. “You know him, don’t you?”

You close your eyes, tracing the night’s events back several hours. You only recall shaking two men’s hands, one being the esteemed Doctor Ratio’s, and the other the reason why you were down in the IPCs archives. He was dressed nothing short of what a gentleman would wear, offering you many commending words as he spoke of the recent inflation concerning the astral economy. However, you didn’t miss the brilliant stone embedded in the shell of his tie, reflecting vibrant colors you’ve only seen once in your lifetime. And neither did he.

“Pretty stone isn’t it?.” Aventurine continues, pressing your hands against the wall you’re shoved against. “I’ve seen it a lot throughout my lifetime, but I’m sure you know that already. Silly me, forgetting how easy it is to conceal them.”

He reaches for your shoulder, and you push back, using the slightly stagger of his feet to grab the blade’s edge, violently smashing your head into his and spinning him around. His blade traded for your stone. 

“I’d like to know…” His fingers flip the stone around, taking in the colorless mass, like a void amidst the stars. With a quick swipe of his hand, a lighter is held to it, engulfing the black in a dance of pale fire. Aventurine shakes the rising smoke off of him after a few moments, and your eyes narrow.

“...Why you have this?”

Turquoise meteorite, a brilliant blue stone infused with veins of a green just as bright. A kind of beauty that could only be found on Sigonia, tailored in a way only an Avgin could. The crafter spoke of a tactic that could hide the stone’s true color, while keeping its spirit alive with you still. 

Blood drips from your hand, staining your clothes a deep crimson. Gritting your teeth together, you slice a sleeve of your dress shirt off, slowly wrapping it around the wound. 

Aventurine stands, still, fury riding his waterline. His glasses sit beside his feet, hues of purple and blue wavering in the dim light. His hand slowly clenches, in and out, smoothing the cooled piece over his palm.

“What now, Katican?” His voice is quiet, gently ricocheting off of concrete walls. “Came to settle one last score, fulfilling your dream of tracking down the last Avgin? Oh, I bet you’re itching to use that knife right now.”

You step to the side, shaking bloodstained papers off of your feet. The knife drops to the ground, scraping cruelty against the ground as you kick it to a corner far out of your reach. A sharp intake of breath follows, and he steps back.

“I’m no Katican.” Your tone is low, locking eyes with Aventurine, his gaze darts from the knife to you. “The stone was a gift from an Avgin I saved during the second extinction.”

The air is stale, prickling with fear as you pass. Aventurine stands tall, but you know all too well that his greatest fear has come alight in this very room. The thought of coming face to face with a Katican chases him in his nightmares each dusk, a terror looming over his head akin to a raging storm. For once, he’s speechless, completely dumbstruck, mind racing to comprehend all that you’ve bestowed upon him. So little said, yet so great a burden unveiled. 

You would be right in telling him that such information is better left buried. Yet Aventurine knows only how to shatter the destiny that calls for him, and monumental change has left in its wake.

He opens his mouth to speak, yet words fail him. The hand holding the stone sits slotted behind his back, holding on to it as he would a birthright. A piece of his past that would never bless him again, sitting in the shade of Sigonia’s darkest nights, mimicking a color that does not belong to it. He wants to scream, take his knife and shove it so hard into your chest that it comes out on the other side. 

“I am on your side, Aventurine. I always have been.”

After forcing himself to swallow, he straightens up, but you’re already gone.

Distantly, a heavy thud hits the floor.

–

TUMBLEWEED, SALSOTTO.

“I’m Daisy, here this morning with Tumbleweed’s daily weather report. As usual, there’s sun about. However, a rude awakening is coming at around 6pm, as a pretty hefty thunderstorm is coming our way. Make sure you carry your umbrellas! And remember, as our beloved Fleetworld Marc says, thunder only happens when it’s destined.”

Destiny. The word lingers in your head as a pang of hunger hits your insides. Placing your last suitcase beside your bed, you set off for your hotel room’s kitchen. Reaching over and opening a cabinet, you groan when it reveals itself to be empty. 

Shrugging your coat over your shoulders, you pocket your room card. However, when you open your door, you’re quick to step back, feeling your heart rate spike instantly in shock. 

“Uh…” You take a few short breaths, regaining your composure. “Can I help you?”

The man standing before you is no other than Aventurine, chin receding as he looks at you with evident confusion.

“Can I help you?” He retorts, flipping his hotel card up to the light. “This is my room.”

You pull the exact same card out of your pocket, and the two of you share looks of bewilderment. After reading over the numbers on your card for what felt like the 50th time, Aventurine sighs, long and drawn out. 

“Well, this isn’t what I imagined when the front desk told me they could fit a room in for me.”

“I’ll go ask–”

You’re cut off with a swift wave of his hand.

“Don’t bother, I already did. They’re fully booked for the next week.”

Before you know it, both Aventurine and his bags are heading into your… your room. Exhaling, you mutter a quiet “okay..” and follow him inside. However, he’s quick to stop you once you make it past the bathroom, exaggeratedly pointing toward the wall to your right.

“This has to be some kind of joke, right?” Aventurine laughs, pulling his glasses off as if attempting to see better. 

His gaze is fixed on the bed sitting across from you. The single bed, accompanied with a single nightstand and a TV. In that moment, you both share a second groan, and Aventurine palms his face.

“I’ll figure this out.”

In a matter of moments, he’s gone, suitcases set haphazardly on the ground beside you. After a few minutes of thought, you head to the bathroom, soaking your hands in cold water. A brief inhale follows the icy chill that drags over your face, and you silently curse destiny. 

A few hours pass before Aventurine returns, shirt slightly ruffled, annoyance clearly displayed upon his features. The click of boots melds into the soft step of socks as he enters the kitchen, and you silently pass a bowl of fried rice you had been able to scavenge from a local grocery store over. Running a hand through his hair, he nods your way, sliding into the stool across from you and stopping the bowl with his fingers.

“As you could have guessed, there are zero people in this whole building willing to switch rooms with us.”

“Ah, yeah. Tourists are usually snobby.”

A hum signifies his response. Silence encompasses the room as a blanket would, save the soft clangs of silverware on bowls. You fix your gaze on the granite countertops, following intricately woven lines of mixed stone and drawing patterns in each section you come across. Becoming so immersed in the cracks, you don’t even notice when Aventurine passes you twice, once with his bowl, and once without. Seconds turn into minutes as you stare at the sheet of stone, only taken away from thought when he returns to the table, dressed in a black set of silk pyjamas. 

“What’s your story?”

Your eyelashes flutter, taken aback by the sudden inquiry. Raising your head, you push the now cold rice to the side and glance at the man across from you, fingers interlocked in wait. 

You’re shocked at the simplicity of it. The lack of accusations are a breath of fresh air when it comes to his words, typically cold fronted and dripping with malice. You would expect him to be angry still, perhaps even worse, giving that you lied, but you can feel the genuine curiosity lingering within. He seems to want to understand.

“I joined the IPC when I was young, almost ten years ago.” You start, fighting the urge to snap away from his gaze. “In my second year, word was out that there was trouble on Sigonia. It was thought that the IPC had it under control, but everyone knew there was something else coming.”

You pause. Aventurine remains quiet, attentive.

“I took it upon myself to convince my superiors to send me to Sigonia, despite their warnings. But… the work we did there, it wasn’t enough. I could help no one under the bounds of the IPC, so I sought out the Katicans. No more bounds. I was on the inside, where I could do things my own way.”

“Such lovely people, weren’t they?” He questions, apathy leaking from deep within. “Didn’t have a single care in the world other than themselves. They wanted to see everything burn, the women, children.”

“I have never seen a deeper hatred than what lies within them.”

You stop, again, toying with your fingers. Aventurine’s silence beckons you to proceed.

“I could only help so many, and they all ended up dying anyway. There was no escaping them, they were ruthless.” Your voice trails off, shaking your head slightly at the recollection of dark days in the wasteland they call Sigonia. No horrors match the ones that took place there. “I couldn’t imagine what you went through, any of you. And still, you’re alive.”

A word softly chants in your head. Destiny.

“Ever since I was born, I knew what was made out for me was never good.” Aventurine says, a hint of irony in his voice. “I fell on black days without knowing what it was like to live on the other side, and it’s been like that since.”

Flashes of your past mix in with current thought. You remember them, the Avign children, clinging to scraps of life even when it was evident their lives would soon end. Their eyes, just as brilliant as his, drowned by crashing waves, yet afloat on the prayer of hope. You imagine Aventurine was just like them, and you understand. Anger breeds and it seethes.

“How do you control it?” Such a simple question, yet so many answers. 

“I put it all into risk. Every single last bit of it. I gambled, and I won.” His pointer finger gently hits the table, and he raises his hand to wave it through the air. “I survive, and I bet again.”

“A bold motto, I must say.”

A small smile graces his features, shrugging lightheartedly.

“Luck seems to be on my side.”

You look to the side at the sound of a crack, noticing that rain has started to fall. The sky is obscured by deep grays, and the rumble beckons you to the sliding door separating you from the balcony. The crash of drops on concrete is soothing to your ears, bestowing a peace upon your heart you’ve failed to find for a while now. The serenity thickens as Aventurine steps to your side, the hues in a ring of his eyes reflecting the storm outside.

“I didn’t rain much back then.” He muses, gaze following the slow drizzle of fallen streaks on the balcony’s edge. “A privilege I can keep alive, now that I see it so often.”

You look to the side, meeting Aventurine’s eyes halfway. The corners of his lips turn up as he looks past you, covering his mouth as he stifles a yawn.

“Almost forgot about the bed.” He laughs, running a hand over his lower face. “You can have it, I’ll be okay on the floor.”

“Absolutely not!” You counter, head tilting in defiance. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

“That would be extremely impolite of me.”

“As it would be for me…”

“Will you please just sleep on the bed?”

“I brought extra pillows! I’ll be more comfortable than you on the floor.”

Aventurine stops, sending you a half lidded look. You walk over to your suitcase, swiftly pulling the two large pillows you packed out, holding them at your sides. He walks over to you, snatching a pillow out from one of your arms before walking toward the bed.

“Or, how about this?” He shoves your pillow on top of the hotel provided one. “We put the extra pillows on the bed, and we both take a half.”

You purse your lips, and shrug in reason. After patting your pillow into place, you climb onto the bed, turning on your side to ensure you’re only taking up half of the bed. 

As you land on your other shoulder, you nearly touch noses with Aventurine. He chuckles, eyebrows raising in a teasing manner.

“It’s not often someone gets the chance to be this close to me.”

You groan, tugging the coarse blanket to your chest as you flip to your front. Stifling a few chuckles, Aventurine turns so his back is facing you.

Within a few minutes, quiet snores begin to drift through your ears. You sigh, and roll your eyes. And yet, only peace visits you in your dreams.

–

There have been few nights of your stay in Salsotto without rain. You’ve grown accustomed to the melodic pad of morning to the erratic roar of the night. This night is different, however, as dew is high in the air but the clouds of the afternoon are white, tainted with swirls of pink that bode better weather. 

You fumble with the pearls on your neck, carefully positioning them so they rest on your collarbone. All IPC events require a clearance of wear that is above the standard grade of formal, nothing short of extravagant, explaining the fine tailored suit you wear over your dress. Ivory on cream, a palette that bodes well when making business deals. 

Heels click on pavement, Tumbleweed’s National Museum in sight. Golden lights cast the establishment in an elegant glow, and the stream of classical cello welcomes your ears as you approach. Welcoming smiles are given your way as you enter the building, and you start a long night of shaking hands and business chatter with the esteemed mechanical aristocrat Screwllum. 

Leisure chats of the Genius Society’s next project flow in and out of wine chutes, with gentle opera joining new deals of funding. Another hand shake bodes your farewell to a philanthropist from the Herta Space Station, and you take a seat at one of the tables nearby, attempting to gather your thoughts. Sipping on a glass of sparkling rose, you start jotting down tonight’s business proposals onto your phone.

“Having fun?”

You look up, offering a smile toward your temporary hotelmate as you pull the chair next to you back.

“Was wondering when I’d run into you, Aventurine.” You say, clinking glasses with the blonde. “How many deals have you clinched tonight?”

“More than you, I bet.” You scrunch your nose, folding your arms after sliding your phone his way. Aventurine takes a look through your notes, smile expanding on his face as he progresses.

“...And it seems I would be right.” He exclaims, holding up two full hands. “Don’t feel bad. It’s the natural charm.”

“Mhm. Super natural, and not annoying at all.” You quip, earning a light jab in the shoulder.

Your past two weeks with Aventurine had proved to be an easier feat than you had thought. Beside the snoring (that you had learned to tune out), he had served as a good source of company, squandering your worries of lingering grudges as you spent more time around one another. You were grateful he had the will in his heart to see the reason behind what you had done, although you were a little surprised to see that he had forgiven you with such ease. 

Now, to you, he seemed to be an easy soul forced to carry burdens that were undeserving of him. 

“Hey.”

You’re roused from your thoughts by the gentle tap of Aventurine’s foot against your heel. He cocks his head, and you’re suddenly aware of the soft serenade filling the room, sung by an artist famous for this piece.

“Let’s get our minds off of business for a while. Care to dance?”

He straightens his jacket before standing up, beckoning you to do the same. You accept the hand outstretched, threatening to roll your eyes as Aventurine lays his other on your back, guiding you to the floor.

“Trying to show off?” 

Aventurine slowly spins you into a shroud of spotlight, laughing when your eyes go wide from the precision of his arms slowing you back down. 

“Of course.”

A look is shared between the two of you, and the dance begins. You recognize the piece, Seid Umschlungen, Millionen! (Be Embraced, You Millions!), and fall into a sort of waltz, slow, quick, slow. Your feet move in a symphony of chirping violin and cello vibrato, swirling carefully around other dancers as you step from box to box. 

The music quiets in a moment of repose, and you slow, winding your hands around his neck as you sway, in wait. 

“What’s with the long face?”

The question catches you off guard, as you weren’t aware that your thoughts had reflected off of your face. Lips pursing, you wonder whether taking the chance and ruining the moment is worth it, but the question nags deep within, festering like a cancer that will not cease until it is freed. 

“Do you forgive me?”

Strings echo and rise; Aventurine fits a hand behind your back before spinning you into dance. His eyebrows are furrowed lightly, as if your question had caught him off guard in some sort of way, but you both knew it was coming. Trust is an uncertain entity, not easily won or wagered, never certain in whether it’s attained or lost. Forgiveness is a trial for trust, and within inquiry lie a question of deeper truth that never made it to the surface

Do you hate me, Aventurine?

There have been many times in the passing days where you’ve been questioned about your time in Sigonia-IV. A test to determine whether your actions deserved merit. Recounting stories of countless lives you worked tirelessly to save at the risk of your own. Gallons of blood stained on your hands from the guilty, those whose karma ran the empty river beds of the desert red. 

So much, and yet nothing at all. It’s as if life is out to play some game of twisted fate, as you see all of the lives you could not save in the man right before you. The brand slightly hidden by his collar and wispy blonde, jewelry glittering at his wrists, irises that shine in the darkest of nights. Bewitching, yet so alive. 

“There’s nothing to forgive.” He says, after some time. “You did a brave thing, I would be a fool to condemn you for it.”

Elation. It’s the feather touch of his hands, graceful in the way they dip you, nearly stopping time as you lay suspended. Your eyes lock, and you nearly drown in the glow of lavender and maya that stare back. Slowly, you feel one of his hands leave your back, dipping in his suit pocket and coming to rest in your vision. 

“Their memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.”

You’re lifted to stand, and, amidst a rather slow spin, Aventurine pins the turquoise meteorite you’d thought was long gone onto the span of dress fabric above your chest. The resounding smile shared is trust.

You twirl and sink until the song comes to an end, stopping in a hold of hands and interlocked legs as orchestra is overtaken by voice. In the midst of fading spotlight, your breath evens out, and you find yourself following the gambler’s hand to escape the noise, elbows brushing on a balcony railing as you stare out into the fading daylight.

The sky is tinged with the baby blue of afternoon, arising into a deep interweave of violet and blush. A small, red casino chip flips between Aventurine’s fingers, rolling to sit between his pointer and thumb in short pauses.

“Got any tricks up your sleeve, gambler?”

Aventurine tilts his head to the side, invigorated by the rise of your lips, challenging, daring. The game you propose has risk, but what is life without taking leaps blind? Aventurine is sure he can see you now, after all.

With a flip of the chip and a wave of his hand, the red disappears, and a cool sensation lands firmly on your lips. His face is inches away from yours, fingers gently pressing against the chip that severs the distance between you.

“There are tricks to any risk, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

You raise your hand, sliding the chip from your mouth and palming it. When he doesn’t move, you tug on his collar, chin tilting upward to press your lips to his. The sensation is warm, gentle, as if you tread on ice that threatens to shatter. Honey sears your tongue, and you revel in the touch of his lips, soft as the velvet of his tie.

The moment is all too short, yet your mouth feels numb as you break away. In a moment of silence, you take the hand that sits lightly clamped around your wrist, sliding the chip in his palm and closing his fingers.

“I think I’ll be gambling a lot with you, Aventurine.”

His face moves closer, and you look down for a moment, noticing the hand that sits behind his back.

“I look forward to it.”

–

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGIC INVESTMENT HQ | TWO MONTHS LATER

Knock, knock.

“Coming.”

The door opens in fluid motion, revealing a room cast in gloom, tan shade, blinds drawn. 

“Hey, Aven.” You sigh, placing a chaste kiss on the blonde’s cheek. “Long day?”

“Long day.” He mirrors, offering to take the stack of papers off of your hands. You accept, slipping into the chair across from his desk. “Are you done for today?”

“Mhm.” 

Aventurine sits in his desk chair, shrugging the navy coat he sports onto the back. You stretch your arms behind your back, watching as deft hands undo the cross hatched tie representing the cornerstones from his collar. As he sets the piece down, his office phone starts to buzz, and he groans.

“Hello, this is Aventurine… Uh huh, what time?” He draws circles into ebony, holding the phone to his shoulder as he reaches for a notepad. However, as he clicks the pen in his hand, he nearly drops the phone, clearly startled. “Can you repeat that? Si- okay. I’m coming.”

In a flurry of movement, he stands, tie and coat snatched. 

“We have to go, right now.”

His tone is impatient, brimming with anxiety and unwilling to contest. You blink a few times before following him out of his office, grabbing his coat to hold onto as he fits his tie back to his shirt. The walk is silent, save a quiet “thank you” when you hand the coat over and the click of shoes on tile. Your nerves rise as you move, watching the way he frets with his gloves, tugging on the ends repeatedly. 

In a matter of minutes, you arrive at the boardroom of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department, stopping at the edge of the table as Jade turns around, followed by a concerned looking Topaz.

“Ah, Aventurine. What a surprise, I was sure not to include your name in the list of attendees tonight.“She sends a look to the white haired cornerstone, before directing her gaze to you. “Unfortunately, ranks below P40 are prohibited from attending this meeting. Guards, please see her out.”

You push against the guard that seizes your wrist, but are unable to resist as more come to his aid. After having the door shoved in your face, you’re dragged to the hallway outside of the meeting hall, forced to sit in wait. 

30 minutes. Another 30. An hour before the doors open, with Aventurine first, Topaz following close behind. He rushes past you, eyes on the ground, gone within seconds. Concern etches your features as Topaz runs up to you, lips pursed in distress,

“Aventurine-” She pauses, hand on her chest as she catches her breath. “Please go after him. You’re the only one that he’ll see now, after what just happened.”

“What happened?”

At your inquiry, she shakes her head, nodding her head toward the direction Aventurine took off in.

“It’s best you hear it from him. But, please, go see him tonight, he needs someone who’s close to his heart.”

Worry is quick to seep into your features, but you nod. A quick visit to his office and you’re off, taking the next jet off of Pier Point, to Klimt Republic. Weaving through streets and bullet trails full of life, you arrive in the heart of Klimt just two hours later, standing on the penthouse floor of an apartment complex worth more than the entire block you’re on.

Knock, knock.

Silence. You hesitate, and knock again. 

The shuffling of feet hit the floor, and you wait in anticipation, hands firmly at your sides as the noise stops. After a few moments, the door slowly opens, and you sigh in relief.

Aventurine stands, slightly hunched against the doorframe, hair disheveled, eyes red and irritated.

“Aven, what happ-”

A pair of hands seize your wrist, tugging you inside and slamming the door behind you. 

“Not now.” Your eyes widen at the plea in his voice, whole with a basal need that makes your chest tighten. “Please, just, make me forget about it right now.”

He looms over you, yet the shadow he casts is the antonym of threatening. Fear reeks off of him like vodka, as tears brim on his waterline. The feeling spreads to your skin like wildfire, and you feel him shake as you take his face in your hands, breathing shallow and scared.

The first taste of his lips is sweet, but the salt of his tears is quick to sink in. Clumsy and trembling, your bodies rock and hit walls as you make your way to his bedroom. You throw his coat to the side as he does yours, pushing him down onto his bed as you break for air. 

Aventurine’s hair flows out around him as he falls onto the mattress, shrouding him as a halo would. You chase after him, littering his neck with soft bites that elicit soft groans from the skin beneath. You unbutton half of his shirt before diving for his collarbone, reveling in the whines that respond as you nip and bruise. 

His hands reach for your pants, and you stop him before he can reach for your panties. 

“Ah-ah, hands behind your head.” Your voice pools out smooth, running a hand down his shirt. “Just relax and let me take care of you.” 

Gently pinning his hands above him, you let go, and he complies. You reward him with a kiss, messy and careless, pulling a string of saliva between your lips when you leave them. Your free hand pushes hair out of his eyes while the other works on the zipper of his slacks, watching as his fingers lock together as you apply pressure.

A shudder leaves Aventurine’s lips as you pull his boxers down, hand gently running along the length of his dick. Teeth tug at lips as you spit on your hand, working at his cock while running your free fingers along your folds. His neck lifts up as your hands move faster, and you grin, choking the noises that threaten to spill from your mouth at the display before you.

A sight like heaven, an angel laid out for worship. Aventurine’s skin is coated in a soft sheen of sweat that shines in the dim light, hand laid over one eye whilst the other remains barely open. Under the mix of hues that resemble wild fields of flowers, blush coats his cheekbones, a light to the darkness that blooms on his neck. The vulnerability of it makes your heart soar, and you feel a fire ignite in the depths of your being that fails to stoke.

The hand that toys with your clit lifts, prodding at Aventurine’s mouth as you lower yourself on his cock. Muffled whines vibrate around your fingers, and you moan at the fullness that envelops you. You swirl your fingers in his mouth, biting on your cheek as his tongue wraps around them, sucking on the sweet taste of you. 

His hands abruptly reach up, fingers winding and tangling in hair as they pull you down, replacing fingers with lips. The sensation is hot, as if an unquenchable balm has set your skin alight. 

“Feel good?”

“What kind of- ughh- question is that?” 

You clench around him as if it's instinct, and Aventurine calls your name as he would a prayer. His moans are akin to song, divine in melody, alluring in a way that shuts your mind off from anything else but him. One of his hands leaves your hair, fingers clumsily clamping around your own, holding you like fine china. 

The stretch of his dick does little to quench the hunger within, you crave more, a devout worshiper crying a hymn of need. Your motion becomes erratic, a twist of limbs and friction that siphons tears that streak down your cheeks, falling to mix in with the sweat on your lover’s face.

“Gonna-” Aventurine chokes on his own words, eyes shut harshly as he blinks back ecstasy. “Cum.”

Your words are lost to you, only managing to groan in response as Aventurine pulls you back to him. His lips seal over yours in a searing kiss, arms winding around your back to hold you still as your orgasm shakes you. White light flashes through closed eyes as you spasm around his dick, mixing with the cum that leaks inside of you. 

The room is quiet, save the howling wind of night and the dance of unstable breath. Blankets shuffle as you drop to Aventurine’s side, allowing him to drape your discarded shirt over your bare chest. Time seems to cease as you meet his gaze, touch serene as the plains of distant worlds as he encourages you to come closer. You accept, eyes closing for a moment, feeling the warm fan of his breath over your nose.

“The IPC is funding a project to excavate Sigonia.” The silence breaks, peace shatters and your eyes snap open. “Turquoise meteorites are rare, so they’ll scrape the whole planet dry until every last piece is gone.”

Your face falls, corners of your lips pulling downward. Aventurine’s eyes are half lidded, seemingly already accepting the fate of the planet he calls home. He refuses to look your way, eyes focused somewhere past you, the sorrow spreads and leaks into your soul as it opens further. A place so full of hatred and loss, yet a place that he will never be able to let go of. It burrows within the deepest neurons, refusing to snap and forget.

“You have to say something, Aven.” You pull at his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Whatever you have to do, I’ll help you.”

“The IPC doesn’t have time to listen to Avgin.” He sighs, hope stale on his breath. “Not even if it's the last one alive.”

You still, fingers falling to rest against his cheek. Aventurine’s eyes close, brows furrowing lightly against pale skin.

“Sigonia will fall, and only Kakavasha will remain.”

Defeat. It seems that what events occurred in that meeting room left no room for conversation. Guilt flows through your veins like it’s replaced the red, and your chest aches, latching onto the horror that no doubt holds sovereignty in his head.

Kakavasha. Blessed by the heavens yet cursed by the living world. Such a beautiful name that deserves no hell it endures. 

Amidst the quietude, Aventurine’s hand slithers under the blankets, latching onto your wrist. He traces skin, knuckles brushing against your own, coming to rest intertwined.

“Can we try something?”

You nod, and your hand is slowly lifted to the air, palm against palm between your chests. You’ve seen this motion back on Sigonia, yet it’s always remained distant to you, and the words echo in obscurity. 

“I’ll go through it once, and we can do it together.”

You nod, once more. Aventurine closes his eyes for a moment, reciting a prayer lost to you in time.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

A brief pause passes. You sigh in unison, and lock eyes. A voice whispers within the depths of your mind, and you smile.

The memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

As the last words drift off of your lips, you bend your fingers, slotting them between his. Aventurine shares your sentiment; hope flashed in the gentle smile that graces his lips. Your eyes wander, and notice that a single tear trails down his face, disappearing into his skin as it rolls.

Outside, you hear the crack of thunder. You pull Aventurine in, and in your clutch, the downpour begins.

–

Some months later…

The chatter of voices on the phone rouses you from sleep, rubbing a hand over your eyes in annoyance as you come to. Light spills through drawn curtains and open glass doors, filtering the room in hues of honey and hazel. 

“Mhm. Alright, I understand. Let’s schedule the interview for today.”

Songs of canaries and mourning doves flow through the air, and you sit up, raising a hand to block out the sun’s gaze. Aventurine sets his phone down on the bedside table, stifling a yawn with his hand. You roll onto your side, hand propped up onto your chin as you soak in the sight of your lover.

His hair is slightly ruffled from sleep, bangs astray and cast into his eyes. Only the top button of his sleep shirt is buttoned, leaving lean, sun kissed skin on display. 

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you in for a kiss. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You hum, knowing full well tonight has been one of the worst nights you’ve slept yet. Aventurine sees right through you, but chooses to say nothing, opting to pull you forward so half of your body drapes over him.

Today Aventurine leaves for Penacony. And, seeing as he was called in for a meeting, he’s probably leaving even sooner now. 

He seems to read your thoughts, offering a comforting peck to the corner of your lips in apology. Your hands card through his hair, head resting against his collarbone. 

You have your apprehensions about Penacony, having heard whispers on the streets of mysterious disappearances of people in the world’s famous dreamscape. The IPC has had a limited number of run-ins with the family, leading you to assume a recent grounds of suspicion has arised, and Aventurine was chosen as the solution. In his eyes, it’s just another gamble of life or death.

You’re roused from your thoughts by a tap on your cheek, making you look up at him.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” His words do little to soothe you, but you listen regardless. “The risks I take are always foolproof.”

Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last. 

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

His phone rings, and the two of you groan before he gets up and tells the person on the other line that he’s on his way. You watch from his side of the bed as he throws his clothes on, grabbing two packed suitcases from the side of the bed before bending over to give you a kiss. The touch of his lips is bittersweet, nearly taunting as it is over before it even begins. You peck him again, running a hand over his hairline to straighten his bangs.

“Be safe out there, Aven.”

He smiles, so radiant it rivals the sun and all that it shines on. You think yourself blessed to see it survive.

“I will. Luck is always on my side.”

And he leaves. You turn to the window, awaiting the rain.

[prythianpages]

Somebody To Love | Cassian

Cassian x Witch Reader Masterlist | Summary: Under the starlit sky, Cassian wishes for someone to love...unaware that elsewhere, a love witch is making the same wish upon the stars.

word count: 2,300 | warnings: none, maybe mild angst?

a/n: I thought a proper little introduction was needed before I dive into this little au.

divider made by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears

The cool night breeze ruffled Cassian’s hair as he gazed up at the vast expanse of Velaris’s night sky. The stars shimmered like a thousand diamonds, casting a gentle glow on his pensive face. They’ve always been there–the stars.

He remembered little from his early childhood, but he vividly recalled the stars and the way his mother would hold him as they gazed up together. They had shone brightly the night Rhysand took him to his house in Windhaven. They had been there as he trained in Windhaven and during the blood rite, guiding him with their silent light. They had been there during the years of the war, those torturous fifty years under Amarantha’s rule, and all other nights.

The stars were his silent spectators. It did not matter where life took him, for the stars remained steadfast. A constant reassurance that even on the darkest nights, there was still light.

Yet, he dreamed of gazing up at them with somebody. Dreamed to have that special somebody, someone who would remain by his side and shower him with love the same way the stars shower him with light. 

Somebody to love.

Cassian sighed, the weight of his solitude pressing heavily on his heart. He thought his person had been Nesta but it did not work out and she ran off with another. That special place in his chest remained silent. Dormant and waiting or perhaps latent and closed off. He’s seen what the Cauldron has done for others, for his own brothers. Was it too much to ask of the Cauldron to bestow a similar fate upon him too? 

"Please," he whispers, his voice soft and yearning as he gazes upwards. To the Mother, to the Cauldron. But also to the stars, who are always listening. “If there is somebody out there for me, guide them to me.”

The stars twinkled vividly against the dark night sky, as if acknowledging his wish. He felt a flicker of hope ignite within him.

Maybe, just maybe, the stars would answer his dream.

**

Beneath the enchanting lights hanging above, you are gathered with your coven of witches in a hidden skylight cave. The cave was near the forest of the Middle, a neutral territory. Though it belonged to no one, the sacred mountain of the Middle had fallen victim to Amarantha’s rule for fifty years. During those troubled times, your coven had to cautiously adapt, finding new ways to convene and perform rituals to sustain Prythian without drawing the attention of the ruthless self-proclaimed queen.

But those dark nights had finally ended, thanks to Feyre the Cursebreaker. No longer did your coven need to tread carefully each month, fearing discovery and extinction. Now, you could gather freely, united in your efforts to strengthen Prythian’s courts and reclaim what was lost during those tumultuous fifty years

Draped in shimmering cloaks that glowed softly underneath the full moon, you stood in a sacred circle. The air hummed with an electric anticipation as you stepped forward, your gown a soft blush that radiated warmth. You raised your hands, and the murmurs of the other witches fell silent, their collective energy focusing on you. You began the incantation you knew by heart. The surrounding trees seemed to lean in and the wind stopped as your voice weaved through the night air.

But as your incantation reached its crescendo, a tremor passed through you.

Your voice faltered, the light in your gown dimming as your power wavered. The once-steady glow of the enchanted lights above flickered, casting uneasy shadows over you all. The other witches exchanged glances, some of worry and concern and some of frustration and annoyance. 

The energy of the ritual was slipping away.

"No," you whispered, a note of desperation in your voice. "Not now..."

You clenched your fists, willing your power to surge. But it was as if there was an invisible force resisting you. The enchanted lights illuminating the cave sputtered and a cold wind swept through.

The other witches stepped closer and you took a deep breath, drawing on their energy. But once again, your own power remained elusive, like a flame guttering in a storm. The lights above dimmed further, the magical glow fading to a mere glimmer. 

Your shoulders sagged, and you lowered her hands, tears of frustration shimmering beneath your veil. "I... I can't," you said, your voice breaking. "Something's wrong..."

The leader of the coven, Circe, stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It's alright," she murmured. “Maeve, will you take over?”

Maeve, the chaos witch of your coven, stepped forward. “Of course,” she said, flashing you a smug smirk, her dark eyes burning into you. “I’d be happy to take the lead.”

You swallow hard, taking a reluctant step back. Tears well in your eyes, and you squeeze them shut as Maeve begins the incantation you failed to finish. Determined not to let your emotions interfere, you focus on her words. Despite your magic feeling faint, it responds to Maeve's voice, and the enchanted lights brighten once more.

As Maeve completes the incantation, a surge of power courses through you like wildfire. Stepping back with a satisfied expression, she basks in the praises of the other witches, her hand reaching out to Bellamy. Her boyfriend, your ex-boyfriend. Though many years have passed since your breakup and you no longer hold romantic affection for him, the sting of his betrayal still lingers as it’s flaunted at you every month.

The circle of witches slowly dissolved, their gowns blending into the darkness as the last of the enchanted lights winked out.  Avoiding Maeve's gaze, you move away, not wanting to be near her. 

But Maeve has different plans.

Arm in arm with Bellamy, she approaches you outside of the cave. Her dark hair shimmers like a raven's feathers as she pushes it back with those long talons of hers. 

“It seems the constellations no longer favor you.”

Daria, the sea witch and your friend, gasps, coming to stand beside you in defense. "Shut that cursed mouth of yours!"

"Well, this 'cursed mouth' just ensured our coven thrives for another month," Maeve retorts, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she looks between Bellamy and you. "Among other things."

You hear a wicked chuckle somewhere from behind you as more and more of your coven trickles out. "Calls herself a love witch but can’t find love herself. How does she expect others to respect her now?" Genevieve’s hushed voice carried with spite. "Circe should just let Maeve handle our rituals from now on…"

“Her energy has been all over the place for months. I hope it’s not contagious.” Thea murmured softly. “We should keep our distance, just in case.”

Their words cut you sharp, much like those claws of Maeve’s would, and your frown betrays your hurt. “No, maybe Maeve is right,” you say solemnly. “I fear the constellations are forsaking me...”

Circe was the last to leave the cave, her sharp gaze already on you, undoubtedly catching wind of the coven's whispers. "Maeve. Bellamy," she says, voice firm and dismissive.

Without a word, Maeve and Bellamy vanish into the forest. Circe approaches you, clasping your hand in hers with a sympathetic smile. "We’ll find our way through this together," she assures, while Daria nods in solidarity. "For now, rest and gather your strength."

“Okay,” is all you manage to say, though you know there is nothing she can do to help.

Circle gives your hand a squeeze before stepping back. With a shimmer of golden light, she transforms into a white barn owl and vanishes into the night. Alone with Daria, you both lingered a while longer, catching up with one another. The two of you met often on your own, as much as your busy schedules would allow.

There was always much to say given the neverending gossip swirling among your respective courts. Such as the very handsome new High Lord of Summer and, in your court, the first-ever High Lady of Night. An hour later, the two of you finally depart with contented smiles on your faces.

As you walk toward your winnowing tree, you decide to linger a while longer. You head towards the small clearing ahead, a place you often go to after meeting with your coven. It was a place where you found peace and serenity. Something you found yourself needing a lot more these past couple of months. The words from your coven drift back to you and with a heavy sigh, you settle onto the ground. Closing your eyes, your fingers dig into the willowy grass, its cool touch grounding you

“Her energy is all over the place...”

“Calls herself a love witch but can’t find love herself…”

“It seems the constellations no longer favor you…”

Born to two powerful witches, you had high expectations to live up to. Cosmic witches were common among Prythian, especially the solar courts, but love witches not so much. They could only come into being through true and fated love such as you did. 

Once you came of age, you traversed Prythian, bringing hearts together and counseling the fae with advice and potions. Lost in the pursuit of uniting others, you never paused to question why love eluded you.

Perhaps, you should have. 

After losing your parents and coven to the dangerous creatures that had been let loose under Amarantha’s rule, Circe invited you into hers. She had been a good friend of your mother’s, someone you saw as an aunt. Her coven had welcomed you with open arms and given your immense power, you were often elected to lead rituals. 

For many years, all was right. You had family, friends and a sense of belonging. Then love came along when you fell for Bellamy’s charm, the sweet crystal witch from Winter. You truly believed he was the one, but then Maeve sunk her claws into him, and everything changed.

Perhaps that was the beginning of your downfall. There were other men who piqued your interest, making your heart flutter with hope. Yet, each one ended in heartbreak... for you.

For them, it often ended in them finding the love of their lives such as it did for Bellamy and Maeve. You had a strong suspicion that they were mates.

It had always been bittersweet—bringing fae together but never finding love yourself. You had told yourself it was okay. Your love would come when the time was right. All the longing and dreaming would be worth it when you found your special someone.

But failed love after failed love…

The curse of doubt slowly crept into your soul, seeping into your skin and bones, and it began to hinder your magic. The whispers of your coven members, their reservations and concerns, only added fuel to the growing flame. In quiet moments like these, you questioned everything—your abilities, your worth, and your destiny. Your magic, once vibrant and potent, started to wane, mirroring the turmoil in your heart.

But never had your magic failed like it did tonight. You feared you were no different than a dying star, dimming and fading into the void.

“Is it true? Have you forsaken me?” you ask the celestial beings above. Averting your gaze from the sky, you wipe away a few stray tears. 

The night brings a gentle breeze, and an oxeye daisy catches your eye. It sways toward you, beckoning, and you pluck it from the sea of grass. Your lips curve into a small smile as you twirl it between your fingers. Another breeze brushes through your hair, carrying away one of the white petals. An idea pops into your mind.

“The stars shine in my favor,” you say, plucking a petal from the daisy.

You then pluck another one, this time saying, “the stars don’t shine in my favor.”

You continue to do so until the flower is laid bare, just a stem and heart of yellow. The last petal remains between your fingertips as you whisper, “the stars shine in my favor.”

You let the wind take the final petal from your grasp, watching it drift toward the sky. As your gaze follows, the stars seem to shine brighter than before. Relief washes over you, transforming your tears of sadness into tears of hope.

You would rise above the whispers and the doubts, reclaiming your power and confidence. The constellations still favored you, and if they believed in you, why couldn’t you believe in yourself?

You would find love. True love. The kind that resonated with the stars and filled your heart with unending joy. The kind that would answer your dreams and end your longing.

“Please,” you say and the stars in the night sky seem to still as if listening to your soft plea. “If the stars do shine in my favor…If there is someone out there for me, help me find them…”

The stars shimmer again, twinkling as if winking down at you and guiding your gaze northward. They seem to point the way home, to Velaris. You let out a small exhale, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over you.

A small, hopeful smile plays on your lips as you take a last look at the night sky, the stars seeming brighter than before. 

Somewhere far away, an Illyrian male with a heart of gold stood under the Velaris stars, his own wish echoing through the night. And unbeknownst to you both, your fates were gently weaving together, guided by the same celestial light that watched over you both.

series masterlist

a/n: Them wishing for someone lowkey reminds me of the scene in Lilo & Stitch, where Lilo wishes for a friend and then it cuts to Stitch's diabolical laugh. That's all I could think about when writing this. Anyway, hope you enjoyed <3

also yes, I recycled some names from my other witch au lol

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: Where should you travel to next to have your next breakthrough

Left to Right: Pile 1 -> Pile 3

Introduction

Once you pick a pile and refer to your reading it will show you a potential breakthrough that could occur once you travel to a certain place as described in the piles below.

================================================================================================

Pile 1: Near a Body of Water

The three cards for you, signifying your journey is as follows:

Ace of Cups - Traveling to a place near a body of water could lead to an emotional breakthrough, deepening your connections with others, and experiencing profound feelings of love, joy, and peace. The Star - This journey may bring a breakthrough in hope, inspiration, and renewed faith in your dreams. It signifies healing and finding inner peace through the soothing presence of water. Three of Cups - Exploring a location near water might bring a breakthrough in celebration, community, and friendship. It could signify finding joy and harmony in your social interactions.

Who you might meet in these travels:

A local artist who inspires you to express your emotions through art.

A group of locals celebrating a traditional festival or event, welcoming you to join in.

A wise old fisherman or even a bakery owner nearby who shares stories of hope.

================================================================================================

Pile 2: Near a City

The overall energy is below mentioned:

The Tower - Traveling to a city could result in a breakthrough involving sudden change, breaking free from old patterns, and embracing new perspectives that challenge your current beliefs. The Chariot - This journey may lead to a breakthrough in determination, willpower, and taking decisive action. It signifies moving forward with confidence and achieving your goals. The Hierophant - Exploring a city might bring a breakthrough in spiritual or philosophical understanding, gaining new insights into traditions and belief systems that influence your life.

Who you might meet during these travels:

A tech entrepreneur discussing disruptive innovations that change industries.

A successful CEO who shares strategies for achieving ambitious goals.

A philosopher debating existential questions and perspectives on life.

================================================================================================

Pile 3: Near a Mountainous Foresty Area

The cards are as follows:

The Hermit - Traveling to a mountainous foresty area could result in a breakthrough through introspection, seeking solitude for reflection, and gaining profound inner wisdom.

The Empress - This journey may lead to a breakthrough in creativity, nurturing new ideas or projects, and connecting deeply with nature and the earth's energies.

The Devil - Exploring a mountainous forest might bring a breakthrough in confronting and overcoming personal fears or limitations. It signifies liberation and reclaiming your personal power.

Who you might meet during these Travels:

A herbalist teaching about the healing properties of plants and herbs found in the forest.

A storyteller weaving tales of mythical creatures and nature spirits, igniting imagination.

A mountain climber sharing stories of conquering peaks, inspiring courage and resilience.

================================================================================================

[ace-of-zaun]

It’s Because:

Silco x gn!reader - 1k words - SFW

cw: fluff, angst, pining, denial of feelings, falling in love, brief mentions of death, injury, and trauma, happy ending

summary: Silco is not in love. At least, that’s what he tells himself. 

a/n: i’ve never written anything like this before, i hope it works!! (it really hurt to type as well but my physio told me i had to.) inspired by the song i’m not in love by 10cc

Silco is not in love.

Unequivocally, categorically not in love. 

He doesn’t even know what love is when he meets you as a jaded, starving teenager, too busy trying to make ends meet to even think about something as trivial as love. But he does know that the easy way you smile when you meet his eyes makes his day just that little bit brighter. 

He’s not in love when he spots you a few years later, standing quietly amongst the meagre crowd in the bar, listening to his rallying speech of change and independence. Although, the spark in your eyes as you watch him is like a match to the burning in his chest, and for once in his life, it makes him feel alive. 

Silco isn’t in love when he accompanies you on mission after mission, learning to trust one another as he watches your back and you watch his in return, securing resources, and medicine, and meals for the starving children of his city. It’s just the adrenaline from the sprint back home, as you both narrowly escape the Enforcer’s clutches, that sets his heart racing to the dozen.

He can’t be in love when he watches you from across the bar, laughing, and singing, and dancing along to the jukebox, unaware of how effortlessly you light up the room. And so what if deep down he wants to join you and bathe in that light, soaking you in until you're his? It’s not like it means anything anyway. 

There’s no such thing as love on his birthday when he refuses to tell anyone the significance of the day, instead scowling down at yet another shipping manifest. Except, when you hand him a cupcake and kiss his cheek as you walk through the bar on your way to the market, he hopes the red of his ears and the longing expression isn’t too noticeable. 

Love isn’t present on the night you cry in his arms, heaving sobs that wrack your body as you mourn those lost in the fight, yet more casualties in this never ending fight for freedom. It’s simply the right thing to do when he lulls you to sleep, shushing your cries until your breathing slowly evens and your heart beats sync up with his. 

Silco tells himself he isn’t in love when you sit side by side, legs dangling off the little bridge that crosses the river as he gifts you a starburst necklace that once was his mother’s. And it certainly doesn’t mean anything when you gaze up at him with the softest smile, intertwining your fingers with his while you gently rest your head on his shoulder. 

He is not in love the day you stand with him in the little alcove across the street from the bar, sheltering from the rain that drips down to form galaxies of puddles along the square floor. You’re up on your tip-toes, his arm is around your waist, and when your nose bumps against his, his heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it-

But then his brother is suddenly there, pulling him away from you as he insists he goes for a walk with him, and Silco makes the worst decision of his life and agrees. 

In thunder and rain, Silco knows that love ends in nothing but betrayal when he is forced to disappear, body pulsing with pain, mind in tatters. He’s hurting, and angry, and beyond scared. But weaved in between it all, he thinks of you and pictures the way you looked and felt beneath his fingertips, and thinks that maybe it’s not all bad. 

There’s no time to think of love when, years later, he finally gets his revenge and reclaims his bar, his home; a second chance at raising the city his people deserve. Though, it’s almost like serendipity when he happens to take a break from arranging his schedule to look through the window down into the square, and there you are, standing in the middle of the street silently watching his workers carry in new furniture. 

He isn’t in love when he runs down to you, nearly tripping down the stairs in his haste, pushing through the doors until you’re right there in front of him, the only place he truly feels safe. But when you don’t scream or slap him or curse him for leaving you, instead striding across the distance to throw your arms around him in a tight embrace, he forces himself to choke back his tears and allows yours to soak into his shoulder instead. 

Silco continues to remind himself that he’s not in love in the coming months, while you sit beside him day after day, helping him put his plans into motion, listening to every word, every worry, every whisper. Really, who can even tell that his heart skips a beat when he spots that you’re still wearing his mother’s necklace, still so mirandous even after all this time?

He’s not in love the evening you sit atop the bar, laughing as you retell a story from your youth, caught delightfully off-guard when he can’t help but surge forward, capturing your lips while his hands cup your heated cheeks. It’s just one of those things, he supposes, to finally feel content standing between your legs, your own lips pressed in a smile against his, in a way that kick starts his once dead heart. 

But now, nearly two decades after he’d first laid eyes on you as a naïve boy, he lays next to you in bed and watches you sleep peacefully, tangled in the sheets the same way you’ve weaved yourself into his heart. And in the quiet lull of the night, he runs his fingers over a shiny, jewelled ring, custom-forged to match his mother’s necklace that still rests around your neck. 

He thinks of easy mornings and four-word questions, and for the first time in his life, allows himself to simply feel. 

Maybe, just maybe, Silco is in love. 

[dcxdpdabbles]

Have you seen the halfa cass post that's been floating around? I'd love to see your take on that

I'm going to assume you mean the au made by @phandomhyperfixationblog so I'll write about that but if I am wrong please let me know in another ask or message.

Cass was sent to Amity Park to investigate its residents' disappearance. Ghost towns in the USA were fairly common, often after they were abandoned, the earth would reclaim the land and would be left untouched for years to come until a lucky urban exploder discovered it again.

What wasn't uncommon was that everything was left behind when the town was abandoned. Cass walks down three more streets, eyes taking in everything around her. Although the lawns were vastly overgrown and the houses left to the elements, there weren't a lot of open spaces.

Empty cars were parked perfectly along the road or in a lot, chairs and tables on porches were left out, children's toys laid in driveways, and after squinting through a few windows, she could see fully furnished households- some even had a slight mess as if the owners hadn't gotten around to their household chores yet.

One house even had a dinner table set up. The meal was rotten and smelled, but she could tell it was a family dinner that was interrupted mid-way.

Yes, everything was covered in dust, as if years had gone by since someone was last here, but otherwise, it looked like a thriving community had been here only a few days ago.

Even the stores were fully stoked, aisled upon aisled of merchandise left untouched for who knows how long. Restuantants were similar, rotten food aside, everything was open and set up as like a normal bussniess hour.

Overall, it didn't seem like the residents willingly abandoned this place. They left literally everything behind. Nothing showed looting either, which indicated how uncommonly outsiders came here.

The fact Cass was investigating Amity Park at all was because she was doing a favor for Raven. The girls didn't talk much, but it was the least she could do as the magic-user had helped her with a fight in Hong Kong a few days ago.

Raven claimed that an abnormal energy pulse came from the town. It wasn't wrong; some places just had more natural energy to them, but she had always wondered what the cause was.

It is a low-level mystery that she put off exploring due to all other priorities, but about a week ago, Raven sensed another pulse-this one reeking of death- and had asked Cass to check it out while she went on a space mission with the rest of the Titans.

She was supposed to take picutes, do some scenes and get some readings. Cass was not expecting to find literally no one for miles.

Cass slowly made her way down streets, breaking into houses and stores, looking for clues. She found no signs of a struggle but that may be due to the time frame of when this happened.

It wasn't until she got to Fenton Works that she managed that she could figure out some parts of the puzzle. The building itself was a challenge to get into. It was rigged to the teeth with weapons and security measures.

Some were old and rusted, but a majority quickly powered up to shoot at her as she tried to get past. Ducking and weaving through the blast she felt all her muscles burn from the rapid dodge she was doing.

Through years of training, she turned a handstand into a run and then a leap to crash through the front window, and the weapons outside halted as soon as she rolled to a stop in what appeared to be a cozy living room.

Weary, she watched as the gun blasters slowly retreated back into the slight holes along the roof, the fake pathway, and the gnome. Once done the world fell silent again. It's now that Cass startles.

She hadn't noticed Amity Park's silence until it was broken. She hadn't heard birds or the wind blowing through the leaves as she walked. Something was terribly wrong in this place.

Maybe she can find out what it was in Fenton Works.

She began her search by examining the walls. They were lined with family photos- a family of father, mother, and what she assumes are the children of both based on facial features, one girl and one boy. There are art pieces every so often- primarily abstract. The furniture is nothing expensive- coming from a generic furniture store. The kitchen smells rotten food- like most houses- but there is a stack of books on the table.

Cass peers down at them, noticing that they all revolve around a psychology of some sort. An open book is lying next to a notebook filled with notes for teenage development. A pencil is even left over the last unfinished sentence.

Danny's need for acceptance may be due to living in my shadow. I should show him more support.

Cass moves upstairs after confirming there is nothing else of value. There, he finds three rooms- a master bedroom obviously belonging to the parents, a slightly larger room belonging to the girl, and the smallest bedroom belonging to the boy.

Cass can confirm that the girl was tidier than the boy but while her room seemed less personal than the boy's. While the boy has far more personal touches to his belongings, nothing seems to be in order or so driven.

The parents' room was covered with either machinery that could be weapons or images of their children. Whoever they are- or were they loved the two deeply.

In the master bathroom, Cass found that the couple habitually wrote sticky notes with their to-do lists taped on the bathroom mirror's corner. She could tell the differences in handwriting and word choice- the mother wrote explanations while the father did short annotations.

Clean the beakers in lab zone 2. They are releasing gasses, so they must be disposed of properly.

Jazzy-pants slam poetry night. Nov 19th. 6pm.

Danny's sleep study. Dec 10th. Teachers said he's been falling asleep in class too often. It might be Narcolospy!

Dinner Date with Maddie. Nov 22. Classical music reservation.

Cass taps her chin. This happened before December but what year and where did everyone go?

She looks down at the sticky notes again, noticing that many speak about a "lab" downstairs. Seeing as she did not find a lab on the ground level, that only left a lower one.

Leaving the bedroom, she makes her way down to the basement, where she does, in fact, find a large lab. There is a clutter of tools for the eye to see, all surrounding what looks like everyday household items and weapons.

Cass's lips thin as she takes in the strangely shaped guns, staffs, and blades. A weapon maifator? But why here? She tried the computers she scattered about, but none worked. She didn't think so, seeing as the electricity had been shut down across the city, but she had hoped.

Thankfully, this family seemed to believe in paper and pencils because she could find multiple writings throughout the lab. It's mathematical, primarily formulas, a half-baked thesis of "ecto-being" behavior, and notes on "ecto-beings." portal.

A portal that is sitting at the far right of the lab. Cass walks around the perimeter checking to see if it has any traps, but finds none. Then she walks over to the controllers testing the power on it.

She pressed the on button waits forty seconds to confirm that it was not active before she entered the portal. It resembles an early design of the zeta tubes. Maybe the family here were trying to develop teleporting technology-

"GET OUT OF THERE!" Someone shouts. Cass jumps a good foot in the air, swinging around with her fists raised for battle. She hadn't heard him! Hadn't sensed him at all!

It's been long since anyone has gotten the drop on her. She is just grateful she is wearing a mask- not her batgirl or Orphan gear but rather a borrowed ninja outfit Damian had granted her- since it means her identity is protected from the glowing man at the stairway's base.

Wait, glowing?

She opens her mouth to demand to know who he is when the portal powers on. She only had a moment to bite back a swear before her world exploded in pain.

Cass can hear herself scream, but it's too far away from the agony of electricity being poured into her body. She is being ripped apart by it, pushed and molded, and put back together again, only to start the process repeatedly.

It feels like ages before she can't handle it anymore- again, it's been years since that last happened- before the world fades away and she falls into blissful slumber

She has smoke-grey hair and glowing opal-white eyes when she wakes hours later.

The man is leaning over her with snow-white hair and glowing green eyes, looking worried as Cass finds that her body can no longer stay solid. It seemed that she had died and now had the body of a ghost.

She knows who makes this.

"Hello, Danny," She says, pushing through the pain of her death. Oh gods, how will Bruce react when he learns about her stupid error. She doesn't want to think about it, so she pushes it away to give the startled man an empty smile. She had to at least figure out the mystery so that her death can not be in vain."I have some questions about Amity Park."

[biasbuck]

BiAsBuck’s ficrec Fridays

We're so back baby! Happy weekend everyone, apologies for the delay whilst I've been away travelling. I HAVE been reading lots on my trains however, so here's another round of the fic I've been reading this fortnight whilst not actively flailing over the glorious new episodes. As always you can find previous rec lists here. Some light spoilers for new episodes.

6 October 2024

still the bone remembers, still it wants by @eddiebabygirldiaz in which 'Eddie goes to therapy and learns how to want. Buck helps.' Ohhh I absolutely adored following along on this ride as a wip and now it's complete in all its glory! From his childhood responsibilities looking after his sisters, through the events of season 4 and 5, Eddie struggles with identifying what he wants in life, and Frank gives him homework to make a list of simple desires for just himself. What follows is a beautiful journey of unpacking what's in his heart, with the most gorgeously in love and enamoured Buddie. The imagery in this fic melted me, from the orange tree to dancing and more. Indulgent in the best possible way. I'm still swooning from how much they love and laugh together!

tell you my sins (sharpen your knife) by @sonofatoasterwaffle from sweetness to....Hot Priest Smut! (And yet somehow, still sweet?!) This is gloriously fun and filthy and a little tongue in cheek crack treated seriously, in which Eddie deals with his recognition of his feelings for Buck by fucking a Priest about it....and makes Fleabag eat her heart out. It's 'for anyone who dreams about reclaiming pieces of the religion that hurt them in a fun and sexy way.' Featuring incredibly funny Bobby along the way. Poor guy.

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins) by @capseycartwright on the other end of the Catholic Guilt explorations comes this 'Hey God, it's me, Eddie. I hope you don’t mind that I’m sitting in your house thinking gay thoughts.' In which Eddie seeks various methods of support in dealing with the fallout from season 7, from therapy to a veterans group to reexamining his childhood and his relationship with God. Really beautifully achey and cathartic and uplifting.

Take My Oxygen (This Plane is Going Down) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels ahhh I had so much fun reading this! Buck is a succubus, and the firefam a mix of fae and humans in the know about the magical world. Eddie is a new recruit, and he can't help but find Buck mesmerising as they become best friends. But Buck has been coping with his inadvertently fatal (to his partners) natural state through a series of unhealthy mechanisms and it's taking its toll. When we say Eddie would step over the body to help support Buck...this is this fic! And yet it's also so supportive and sexy and a weaves in canon in such surprisingly effective ways!

the moon don't hang quite as high by @glorious-spoon in which 'after Bobby and Chris leave, Buck breaks up with his boyfriend, tries not to punch his new boss, and worries about Eddie.' I am so incredibly obsessed with the dialogue in this fic, it captures Buck and Eddie's voices and idiosyncrasies so well and the patter of their banter and friendly bickering, particularly how weird they are about their own and each others relationships (affectionate.)

The Write Way To Love by @spotsandsocks this was such a cute AU, in which Buck is an anxious children's fantasy author and Chris (and Eddie) are some of his biggest fans. Running an art competition for children to submit their drawings to be printed in his next book, the elusive E. Buckley makes a rare public appearance and bumps into single Dad Eddie, where sparks fly. Can Buck get over the voice in his head self sabotaging his path to happiness? This fic hit very close to home and I had so much fun reading it, and loved Christopher's voice in it so much!

a sweetheart (to hold when i'm alone) by @clusterbuck at all times on my Give That Man A Cat agenda, directly following on from the zoom call in 8x01, Eddie finds a stray in his back yard, adopts her and falls in love. Things might not be healed with Chris but perhaps they can take tentative steps forward. Eddie holding on to the mask even as it fractures, and yet not giving up, finding inner strength and outlets for all the love he holds in his heart.

cool dry place by @gayeddieagenda 'After a long summer, Buck and Eddie try to figure out if this is the right time.' Another which just nailed the voices so well, I love the patience of this fic, a really lovely look at restraint and allowing grace time to heal and feel surety, without punishing characters for needing time, and with a beautiful sense of precipice for a new relationship.

And finally two tumblr fics from @hotshotsxyz, the taste of iron a powerful alternate ending following 8x01 (what if Buck hadn't tackled Gerrard) with a brilliantly effective mirroring of the shooting arc, and a hilarious Brad Torrence POV fic from 8x02 this method acting (might pay our bills) in which we hear his inner monologue whilst riding in the back of the stolen fire engine with Bobby and Buck. Perfection!

That's it for this week, bee seeing you soon after Athena and Jem land this plane!

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

( ✧ MY MASTERLIST! ✧ )

[ Will be updated in time, so be sure to check / refresh ] Some will not have links as they are not posted yet.

Want to know where else you can find me? Here.

Tips and tricks for baby writer's. Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON.

"The only thing that could tear down the house of the dragon was itself.." [ Mix of HOTD and Modern AU ]

Aegon II Taragaryen - "The Upsurger King"

"Let the ravens fly that the realm may know the pretender is dead, and their true king is coming home to reclaim his father's throne."

The History Book on the Shelf. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

Promise not to drop me? Only a fool would drop you. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Wanna wrap my hands around your neck. ( Complete )

Pt 1

Pt 2

Will you pray for me? ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Like real people do. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Small council, cherry tarts and dragon dreams.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

In the dark of the night.

Run rabbit, run run run.

A glimpse of us.

Oh, who is she?

From my blood, comes your ruin.

The worst guy to share a blunt with.

Money, Money, Money, must be funny in a rich man's world.

Aemond Targaryen - "The One Eyed"

"Do not mourn me, Mother. It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

The Baratheon Curse. ( Complete )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Small council, cherry tarts and dragon dreams.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

A game I couldn't lose.

Don't touch what is mine.

S-I-M-P

Either way what bliss.

I was gone for five fuckin' minutes.

Helaena Targaryen - "The Dragon Dreamer"

"It is our fate, I think, to crave always what is given to another. If one possesses a thing, the other will take it away."

Small council, cherry tarts and dragon dreams.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

You have so much to do, and I have nothing ahead of me.

Alicent Hightower - "The Green Queen"

"The city is yours, Princess. But you will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood.."

I hope the guilt kills you.

Jacaerys Velaryon - "The Lord Strong"

"For my mother, for my family, I will fight till my last breath.."

I don't want to be his Queen, I want to go home.

THE CONQUEROR REBORN. [ A HOTD FANFIC ]

"Twas' a tangled web Roselyn Hightower found herself in. Weaved so intimately with Aegon and Helaena Targaryen."

Chapter / Excerpts.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Book Info.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Edits.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

THE PINK PONY CLUB. [ A HOTD x MODERN AU FANFIC ]

"In every other universe, Roselyn Hightower would find Helaena Targaryen and Aegon Targaryen. And in every other universe, it does not end well for them."

Chapter / Excerpts.

1 2 3 4

Book Info.

1 2 3 4 5

Edits.

1 2 3

DEAD FICS / I WILL NEVER WRITE FOR THESE FANDOM, CHARACTER'S, ETC. AGAIN.

Wednesday [ TV Show ]

Watch my heart burn. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2

House of the Dragon.

Burn. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

By your side. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

Six of Crows. [ TV Show ]

When your older. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Haven't I given enough?

Percy Jackson.

I just died in your arms. ( Complete & Discontinued )

Pt 1 Pt 2

Old enough to understand.

Close your eyes.

The Boys.

Doin' Time.

A leap of faith.

The other woman.

The Walking Dead.

5 stages of grief.

The Hobbit.

Never trust a spell.

----

Tell me if you see any errors and I'll fix them asap!

[ohwaitimthewriter]

Until next time

Pairing: (implied) Caesar x human!reader (bonus point: some platonic Blue Eyes x reader)

Warnings: Fluffy fluff

Requested:

Words: 3.7k+

A/N: I must admit I got carried away on that one! I may have stepped away a little bit, but I hope you will still like it! Enjoy your reading 😁

Masterlist.

It was a day almost like any other. You'd made your way into the woods, following the path that would lead you to the undergrowth you were looking for, to pick some wild berries. You never strayed far from the trail. The area was notorious for traps to catch game, and finding yourself upside down, ankle sheared by a rope hanging from a high tree branch, was not in your top 10 favorite activities.

You weaved in and out of branches and bushes, eyes glued to the ground so as not to lose sight of the trail and risk stepping into a trap. Focusing on your steps, you didn't notice that someone was silently following you.

Soon you reached the part of the forest where several fruit bushes were waiting for you. Blueberries, blackberries and raspberries colored the landscape and were already making your mouth water.

Without wasting any time, you set up your bag at the root of the first bush that seemed to contain enough blueberries and began carefully picking the black berries to slip into your bag.

The blue eyes watching you from the high branches of the tree beside you had gone completely unnoticed, and Blue Eyes, who had followed you throughout your journey, wondered how you managed to survive in an unpredictable world like the one Earth had become.

Unnoticed… At least that's what he thought until you held out your hand to him, palm full of blueberries, as an invitation to share your booty. You still had your eyes glued to the brambles, watching the thorns that were just waiting to scratch your skin and defend themselves against your aggression to reclaim their fruit. Blue Eyes hesitated for a moment, and watched as your second hand slipped a blueberry into your mouth, bringing a slight smile to your lips.

"They're delicious, you should try them." you said casually.

It was only after saying these words that your eyes found his, perched high above your head. Your kind smile encouraged him to move and get down low enough to grab the berries you were offering him. His calloused skin was a striking contrast to yours, softer and more delicate, and your smile widened even more when he agreed to eat a few blueberries.

"Have you been here for a long time?" you asked.

You took your time analyzing the signs that Blue Eyes took care to detail slowly to make it easier for you to understand. Sign language wasn't your forte, but with time, you were getting better and better at deciphering the meaning of each sign.

"'Since the trail." And before you could reply, he continued. "Not careful."

These last words sounded strangely like a scold, which drew a teasing chuckle from you.

" Yet I finally noticed you." You tried to tease him, but the speed with which he signed his reply, looking serious, made you feel as if you were being lectured like a child.

"Anyone else and you'd have been attacked before you knew it."

Somehow, you knew he was right. But it wasn't as if you let your guard down in any part of the forest. You knew exactly what territory you were in, and had for a long time been allowed to venture in when you needed to. An advantage you'd gained when you'd been shot in the shoulder instead of the owner of that part of the forest.

At this memory, your hand wandered mindlessly to your shoulder where a scar had found its place. At times, you still had a vague sensation of the pain that had pierced you when the bullet hit.

Back then, the idea of taking a bullet for an ape would have seemed completely mind-boggling, but you couldn't forget the day Caesar stood between you and a bear.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Spring had only just brought the first flowers into bloom when you ventured down to the river to catch a few fish for your group. The sun had graciously licked your skin and its warmth spread like a wave through your body, while the river, into which you had sunk your ankles in motionless anticipation of a fish, sent the chill of the winter that had just died away down your legs. The battle of the sun against the river made you shiver from head to toe, but you couldn't move a muscle, your eyes locked on the water, on the alert, ready to bring down your spear at the first movement of a fish that came a little too close.

You'd already caught five. You were particularly known in your group for your patience, which made your task much easier when it came to fishing or tracking an animal. You knew how to wait, and that's why fishing had become your specialty.

Eight fish.

Eight fish was the ideal amount to get back to camp. With eight fish, everyone could eat their fill, so you wouldn't budge from that river until your bag had eight fish in it.

But then, because you were so focused on one task, you didn't hear it coming. The branch snapped. The muffled growl. The guttural breath hitting the air. Your body was so focused on not moving, on almost holding your breath so as not to create any water movement that would scare the fish, that you hadn't even noticed the brown bear that had just appeared on the other bank.

The bear, on the other hand, had seen you. It had smelled the fish and seen an enemy in its river.

You hadn't reacted until it was too late, even with the heavy, lively splash of the water under the bear's huge paws as it crossed the river, and you'd barely had time to look up at the animal before it sent you waltzing through the air with a swipe of its paw.

You landed heavily on the pebbles lining the river and a sharp pain slammed into your back and you gritted your teeth, holding back a groan. You pulled on your arms to get up, but you lost your balance and the bear was already standing on its hind legs, towering over you like a giant. You could already see your life ending between his fangs, which it blithely showed you.

The incessant growls of anger were terrifying you, and even though you wished with all your being to flee, your muscles seemed to freeze, paralyzed by the fear gnawing at your stomach. It was the end, you were sure of it, and just as the bear was about to bring its heavy paw down on you, you saw only a massive shadow being struck and thrown further away from you.

It took you a few seconds to see clearly what it was.

An ape. A chimpanzee, if you wanted to be exact.

Your blood ran cold. You were definitely going to die if you didn't get out of here.

The second you forced yourself to your feet, your spine screamed in pain, sending an electric wave through every one of your limbs, and you could only end up on your knees.

In front of you, the chimp stood upright - his torso puffed out, making him look even more massive than he already was. His hoarse snarl challenged the bear, and the ape's fangs appeared to be deadly with the power with which he held on. His green eyes glared at the animal in front of him, silently beckoning it to approach.

The bear turned away from you bluntly at the chimpanzee's threatening challenge, and you seized the opportunity before it was too late. You swallowed the pain and ran.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

If he hadn't stepped in, you wouldn't have been standing there being lectured by his son while you picked berries. Taking a bullet was only fair compensation.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

It all happened in a fraction of a second. Screams, gunfire, screams and bodies, apes and humans alike, running from all sides to catch, flee or fight. It was impossible to say exactly how it had started, or who had started it. All you could see in front of your eyes was chaos. Buildings ablaze, smoke filling your lungs and the barely-there shadows of night making it hard to navigate the besieged city.

The apes were pushing humans into cages, and somewhere, deep down inside, you found a form of ironic poetry in this: maybe humans really only deserved to live in cages. But hidden behind a car, you didn't have time to think more deeply about this question. You had to get to safety.

And safety you found in part, sneaking into the city's underground. There you found Dreyfus and two other men whose names escaped you. They had a plan. A plan to blow up the city tower and kill as many of the apes inside as possible. You didn't know if it was a good plan or a bad one, but at least it was a plan to stop the chaos.

But maybe there was another way.

You lost your security again within moments. A group of apes had just entered the underground, and the guns were already pointed at them.

It took you only a second, a tiny second, to recognize the green eyes that had saved your life a few weeks ago. A gaze so powerful it could pierce your soul effortlessly.

You'd been thinking about that moment for a long time. How this ape had thrown himself in front of you to take that paw for you. And if you hadn't stayed to see the outcome of the confrontation that day, far too frightened of the inevitable fate hovering over your head, you had quickly concluded that without his help, intended or not, the bear would have killed you.

His gaze fell on you, and the step he took towards you gave you the feeling that he, too, had recognized you.

Unfortunately, it was a step too far. For him, and possibly even more so for you.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Sometimes you thought the universe had a certain sense of humor. An ape saving a human's life, a human saving an ape's life, while the two species were engaged in a bloody war that never seemed to end. It could have ended there. But it didn't. For some reason that still baffles you today, your path always seems to cross the one of Caesar and his sons.

You remembered the time when his youngest son almost got trampled by a horse because the young one thought it was more fun to climb on his back using the horse's tail. Of course, the horse didn't appreciate it, and the stampede began before you could catch Cornelius, who had fallen between the horse's four legs. You had inherited a hoof kick in the knee, but had managed to pull Cornelius out of the unintentional chaos.

From then on, whenever Caesar or Blue Eyes carried Cornelius with them, he always ended up climbing to the top of your head, tangling his little hands and feet in your hair to make sure no one came to take him away from you.

You'd also noticed that Blue Eyes was crossing your path more often since you'd protected his little brother.

You picked a new blueberry and handed it to Blue Eyes, who still looked angry, a silent apology for your lack of cautiousness.

"I promise, next time I'll be more careful."

Blue Eyes seemed to consider the issue for a moment, then accepted your berry, the features of his face softening.

"Will you help me?" you offered, and without a word, he found himself crouching beside you, digging his hands into the brambles.

You didn't leave until the end of the day. After filling your bag with berries, Blue Eyes suggested you join him to check out the various traps in the area, in the hope of finding a rabbit or a pheasant. With him by your side to show you the secure paths, you weren't risking much.

When you parted, he even made sure to take you back to the trail you were familiar with, to make sure nothing happened to you.

"Say hi to your father." you signed clumsily. "He is already aware." Blue Eyes had answered, oblivious to the fact it was a simple, very human politeness. "It's why I came."

Of course he was aware you were here. Traps weren't just for game. They also served as defensive barriers against humans who were a little too reckless, leaving only a few secure paths like the one you used every day. It was simpler to keep a constant watch on targeted paths than to wander over several hectares. An ape must have seen you coming.

"Be careful. Stay on the track." Blue Eyes put his words into motion before disappearing between the high branches of the trees.

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

You went on your way as the sun followed its descending line towards the horizon. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you cursed yourself for having accepted Blue Eyes' offer to accompany him: you might end up having to walk the rest of the way in semi-darkness, if not complete darkness, if you didn't hurry.

A lump of anxiety crept into the pit of your stomach at the thought of finding yourself in complete darkness in the middle of the forest. You considered trotting to the edge of the woods, but the path you were taking was nothing more than an old doe and deer trail, offering only a narrow space between the vegetation. You could easily get your feet caught in a root or trip over one of the stones littering the ground. Even so, you quickened your pace to avoid being caught in the dark when you came face to face with a boar digging in the earth to feed on the insects and mushrooms hidden beneath.

You blinked several times, stunned to come across this naturally large animal. It didn't seem to have noticed you yet.

A good news.

Boars were notoriously unstable and territorial, and despite their size, the short tusks around their snouts were sharp enough to do some serious damage.

You took a few steps back, trying as best you could not to snap a branch or roll a stone that would draw its attention to you.

How were you going to avoid it?

Bypassing it was still a possibility, but that would mean venturing into the undergrowth with a heightened risk of walking into a trap.

You observed the boar. If it had made it this far, then the path it had taken was secure enough, and being, on principle, no dumber than a boar, if you watched carefully where you were stepping, you'd certainly be able to get around it without it seeing you, and then calmly get back on the trail.

You tried to convince yourself of this, but what really pushed you off the path was when the boar raised its head towards you, letting out a muffled groan as if you'd just bothered it.

You automatically raised your hands in front of it, took another step backwards and took a second step to your right.

"Okay, okay. Easy, buddy." You said rather to comfort yourself than to calm the animal in front of you, who had just huffed in annoyance.

The leaves crunched beneath your feet as you slowly sank into the vegetation. The boar followed your movements, always making sure he was facing you. It jerked its head forward, a warning signal that it was not playing around. You didn't let it out of your sight and started to move back again, a few more steps to add even more distance, but you had suddenly come to a halt.

You didn't dare look back, lest the animal in front of you decide to charge you, but the intense hovering presence you felt running up and down your spine wasn't making it easy. Your breath remained stuck in the back of your throat, and you knew that one more step and your back would come into contact with the creature, which clearly had no notion of personal space.

"Stop moving."

The gruff in the voice behind you allowed you to breathe again. His voice was a melody you now knew by heart, and a sense of deep relief swept away the anguish that had seeped viciously into your every pore. At least, until with a simple pressure of the back of his hand against the small of your back, he forced you to take a step forward, following in your footsteps.

"Stepping back only show weakness." His voice sounded as a command.

The boar slammed his paw into the ground, letting out a menacing growl that was just as soon greeted by a deep rumble that you could feel echoing through Caesar's proudly puffed chest.

You knew Caesar wasn't the type to act without thinking, and you'd surely have been frightened if you weren't confident that whatever this boar decided to do, he'd be there to fend it off.

When the animal showed a slight hesitation, Caesar once again urged you forward, and although you wanted to dig your heels into the ground to prevent yourself from moving, your blind trust in Caesar drove you to respond to his request. As you took each step forward, you heard Caesar curl his lips and bravely display his canines in a muffled growl.

You breathed a sigh of relief as the wild boar sped away, having lost the territorial game that Caesar had almost certainly won the second he stepped out from behind you.

Caesar found himself on all fours, a little entertained to see you suddenly crouch down, letting the stress you'd accumulated escape through a deep sigh that you held in spite of everything in your hands against your mouth.

Although he always kept that serious, almost grumpy look on his face, at this precise moment, you could see in the depths of his green irises that he had been having fun during this short encounter.

"I was right."

You looked at his hands signing with pride. Of course he was right, but sometimes you wondered if he wasn't forgetting that, as a human, you didn't have all the intimidating attributes of an ape. You gave him a slanted glance before laughing as your nerves released the pressure.

"Why is it always you when something like this happens?" You joked, catching the breath you'd been missing during this whole little game. "Trouble always gets in your way." Caesar replied bluntly in a couple of signs.

You scoffed at that. 

Caesar stood bi-pedal again, and you accepted without a second thought the hand he held out to you to help you up. Caesar admired the fragility of your skin as he felt your fingers slide into the palm of his hand. Come to think of it, it wasn't all that surprising to see you constantly taking the utmost care with everything around you, wary of the slightest thorn that might come along and scratch your skin. He knew that if he squeezed your hand even a little too hard, he could leave bluish marks.

Leave marks. His marks. On your body.

The idea suddenly didn't seem so bad to him, his tongue rasping the tips of his canines, imagining for a brief moment them coming to grip your skin to remind everyone that he'd be there no matter what, like a protective shadow.

But he buried the thought deep inside when you got back to the safety of the path you walked almost every day. So often, in fact, that sometimes Caesar could still smell you where your body had brushed against the vegetation.

With this unforeseen event, the sun had almost completed its course across the sky, leaving only a faint glow to allow you to navigate between the trees and bushes. You were somewhat comforted to hear Caesar following in your footsteps. He had a much better nightsight and you regained some confidence in directing your steps along the trail, knowing that he was there to put you back on the right path if needed.

"Thanks."

It was the only thing you felt appropriate to say in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

One more thing you enjoyed with Caesar. Silences. You didn't need to talk for the sake of talking in order to fill the silences that humans hated so much. And that's what made Caesar's words all the more important. When he spoke, you knew he was speaking to be heard.

As you both neared the end of the trail, his hoarse voice broke the silence once again.

"Until next time."

Caesar could see a smile stretch across your lips.

"If I keep track, it'll be my turn to get you out of trouble." You laughed and he huffed derisively. "Never in trouble." He stated in his usual serious tone.

He pointed to himself with his hand, again puffing out his chest as if he were trying to brag, and his green eyes admired the way you laughed, almost gently teasing him.

"My shoulder doesn't agree with you on this one." You joked, graciously earning an amused pout from him.

You glanced out of the forest where you could see the warm orange colors of the sunset that had just begun. Your camp wasn't far away and Caesar didn't immediately understand why your behaviour had suddenly changed from cheerful to a more introverted one.

You gave him a shy but caring smile, along with a hand wave - typically human, he thought.

"Until next time." You echoed his words softly.

He let you go on the remaining part of the trail, knowing full well that it was safe for you to return to your camp.

Yes, until next time. Some other time when he wished, if you were willing to, to share a moment with you in a way that didn't threaten the life of either of you.

[corvidcrossbow]

Daryl's into shibari but let me explain:

It's not even so much so in the kinky way for physical restraint and all that, but more in a sort of artistic or therapeutic way. Given his background in hunting, tracking and survival skills n whatnot, he already had talent in tying all sorts of knots – so it'd only make sense.

He played around with it when he was younger, and would sit with some yarn or other thin string, alone at whatever random shack he was currently crashing at, just practicing winding it around one of his hands, weaving over his wrist for a cuff, or incorporating his fingers and back of his hand into it – and as he grew more understanding of it, up his forearm, and maybe his thighs at some point too.

It's a sort of fidget for him. He's able to let his mind go and just focus on tying the knots in specific spots and creating intricate patterns and designs. It's relaxing, draws his thoughts into a craft and pushes back against all the intrusive ones. It quickly became something he could do subconsciously, so he uses it to help him think; clears his mind of everything else by keeping his hands busy so he can put attention to more important things.

Obviously he couldn't really do this once the apocalypse happened (he'd rather a walker bite him than someone catch him doing something viewed as taboo, plus you need to be able to up and move very suddenly) – so he swapped to tying and braiding large blades of grass & the young bark from trees.

He'd do a little at the prison during the timeskip, but wouldn't settle back into it till the post-Savior era. It took some readjusting because of all the times being tied up had been used against him in malicious manners post-apocalypse, but he worked to reclaim it and have it be something he could seek solace in again.

You'd learn about it eventually, once your friendship stretched to a relationship and was very deep and sturdy. He'd be so nervous and embarrassed to tell you since, again, it's a generally sexual thing, but it's not inherently like that for him and he didn't want you to think he was weird for it.

But when it came to involving you in it; that took even longer. He wouldn't be open to it at least until long after the Savior war – once things had kinda settled down: you had a secure place to live, a good network of people, and there wasn't a sense of an impending threat every day. You had some peace, and more importantly time.

Maybe it'd start with you two on a run together; you're in a hardware or outdoor supplies store, gathering bundles of rope and you'd make a joke about him tying you up, just to see how he gets flustered after picturing it.

But not long after, you two'd have a genuine conversation about it that'd end in sitting quietly on the edge of the bed together, Daryl loosely doing simple ties with some yarn around one of your hands. He felt very vulnerable, given he's essentially not only letting you into his therapy sessions, but incorporating you into it. Shibari became his scapegoat from his life and trauma-scarred psyche for years; it's something he treasures – and he treasures you the same way. It would always be very intimate.

So once you were both comfortable with it, he'd love it; just sitting together in the evenings and letting him create his little artistic nets of rope on your body, starting with just your hands then arms and simple knots that could be easily undone. Then as time passed, and a period of peace became more prevalent, he did more complex ones and covered more of your body.

Once you expanded, he went out on solo runs to find specific ropes he wanted, maybe swinging by adult stores if needed. The first time he did your torso, he was so utterly transfixed by it: kept breaking the silence every now and again to remark how beautiful you looked.

And then when you did your torso and all without a layer of clothes blocking your skin it pretty much broke him. He was instantly addicted to the way the color of the rope he chose complimented your skin tone, how it so perfectly curled around every curve of your body. Once he was done he just sat back and stared at you. With all the meaning behind it, it was one of the most gorgeous things he'd ever seen.

For the first long while, it was only designs on you, and they weren't physically retraining. He wanted both of you to have experience in it before coming to that. And then when you did, he bound your wrists together, constantly checking if you were okay with it, then undid it pretty quickly.

That's where it started to branch into more sexual territory. Some of it was the control aspect, but it was more so how trusting you were of him; letting him be in control like that – and again just how perfect you looked woven into his masterpieces. First he'd do it, drag eyes over your body, then undo them, toss it aside and kiss you to push you back to lay in the bed.

But then he started keeping them on – but not the more physically restraining ones at first, just the pretty decor ones. This is all a process of progression, so when you did get to more restraining, it was usually just binding your wrists, tying your limbs to the bed frame, or arms to your chest, once and a while a little more than that.

Shibari with him would never be like the more intense stuff you see in BDSM spaces n allat – he will not super roughly tie you up in some weird ass position where rope is digging into your skin and leaving burns behind. He is never one to completely immobilize you. You being super restrained would make him nervous even if you were okay with it. And he's not at all into suspension: he has the skills to set it up right but he doesn't trust it, and that's veering too much into deeper kinky territory for his taste. He doesn't want to ruin this for himself by making it so explicitly sexual.

Like I said, it's much more intimate and remedial. It's about appreciating your figure and including you in something so important to him. You with geometric shapes and knots of rope that he made delicately mapped around your body will always be one of his favoritest things.

And if you wanted to learn, he'd teach you. Knowing knots in general was important in the apocalypse, plus everything else about it. He'd let you restrain him to a further extent than he would you.

And him knelt in bed, rope around his upper thighs that circled his hips and waist, up his chest and around his torso, binding his arms behind his back with his red rag tied around his eyes like a blindfold quickly became one of your favoritest things too <3

And bunny would skyrocket as a petname for both of you cuz rope bunny, duh

Like c'mon that's my rope bunny rigger