#aeon angst week

[yasssarts]

The Darkest Star :: Aeon Angst Week

Based on the song The Darkest Star by Depeche Mode

[aeonloves]

“Please don’t say you love me”

“Then what’s the issue? What went wrong that it has to go this way? Where’s the problem? I’ll fix it” He was getting angry, she could tell he was, but it was at no one in particular. The anger definitely didn’t feel like it was towards her, nor would it be towards himself because she just told him that it wasn’t his fault. She knew Leon was one to blame himself for many things, and maybe he was mad at himself right now, but about what? He’s been nothing but good to her, so she didn’t know what he’d doubt himself for enough to blame this one.

“Leon, it’s me. Okay? I’m the problem here” Ada admitted, unable to get any other reasoning that wouldn’t get him to blame himself over and over for it.

Or; Ada breaking up with Leon for his own good

— aeon angst week, day 2 - break up

[aventurineswife]

Hello hello!! I’d like to request Astral express crew comforting a teen reader whose homesick.

Except I woke up and chose violence today(I say, in spite of the fact that it’s 4am as I write this.) so their home planet is gone and was also terrible☺️so reader is very much confused as to why they feel the way they do.

Btw I see that usually when people request AE crew only Welt, Himeko, March, and Dan heng get added. So If it’s not too many characters could you also add Caelus and Sunday please?

Anyways here’s some random things I thought of cuz my brain won’t stop yapping about this:

Their planet was an overall terrible place and not a very good environment for children to grow up in, so they do have some trust issues when it comes to meeting new people.

That being said I feel like their interaction with Sunday would basically just go something like:

Sunday: ‘you seem down.. would you possibly like to talk about it-‘

reader: ‘did you not just almost kill my friends while trying to revive an Aeon? like.. a week ago?? The hell are you suddenly acting like a saint for.’

They’re fine with the rest of the crew tho. They’ve basically labeled March, Cae, and Dan heng as their siblings + Himeko and Welt as the hopefully trustworthy adults.

forgive me kind sir for the yapping🙏😔

I needed to infect someone else’s brain with my delusions.

“And I don’t know why I miss home, when it never felt like home”

Summary: After the destruction of your home planet—a place that was more cruel than kind—you find yourself grappling with an unexpected sense of homesickness. The Astral Express crew notices your change in demeanor and offers comfort in their own unique ways. From March’s stubborn cheer to Sunday’s unexpectedly poignant insight, each member helps you navigate the complicated feelings of mourning a place that never truly felt like home.

Tags: Astral Express Crew x Reader, Platonic, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Homesickness, Angst with Comfort, Trauma & Recovery, Trust Issues, Slow Healing, Soft Moments.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma and an unhealthy upbringing, Survivor’s guilt, Mild trust issues, Brief references to past antagonistic actions (Sunday), Emotional themes (grief, loss, and healing).

A/N: DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT, I YAP A LOT TOO 😭🙏

The stars blurred past the window of the Astral Express, streaks of light stretching across the void like distant memories. The train hummed softly, a steady rhythm against the quiet of the night cycle. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

You sat curled up in the corner of the lounge, arms wrapped around your knees, staring blankly at the passing cosmos. It had been weeks since your planet—if you could even call it that—ceased to exist. And yet, here you were, feeling homesick for a place that had never been kind to you.

The realization sat like a weight in your chest. You weren’t sure which part of it disturbed you more—that you missed a planet that had been nothing but cruel, or that a part of you still longed for the familiarity of it.

"Alright, spill," March's voice cut through the silence as she plopped down next to you, her hair bouncing with the motion. "You've been looking extra gloomy lately, and I am not letting you sit here brooding in the dark like some tragic protagonist."

You huffed, half-heartedly nudging her away with your shoulder. "I'm fine."

March scoffed, unimpressed. "That’s exactly what people say when they’re not fine. Do you know how many times Dan Heng has said that to me? Too many." She crossed her arms. "So, what's up?"

You hesitated, fingers tightening around your sleeves. "...It’s stupid."

"Try me."

A long pause. Then, barely above a whisper:

"I think I miss home."

March blinked. "Okay? That’s normal."

"No, it's not," you said quickly, frustration creeping into your voice. "My home was awful. It was cruel, and dangerous, and—" You exhaled sharply. "It wasn’t even really a home. So why do I feel like this?"

March’s expression softened, and instead of giving you some overly cheerful, misguided attempt at comfort, she just... sat with you.

"You know," she said after a moment, "just because a place was bad doesn’t mean it didn’t shape you. Maybe you're not missing the planet itself, but… I dunno, the version of you that lived there? The things that made you you?"

You stared at her. "That’s… surprisingly insightful."

March grinned. "Hey! I can be deep when I wanna be!"

You rolled your eyes, but some of the weight in your chest lightened.

"Hey," Caelus said, dropping into the seat across from you. "March said you're sad."

You groaned. "Of course she did."

He tilted his head. "Do you want to commit crimes about it?"

That made you pause. "...What?"

"You know," he gestured vaguely, "harmless crimes. Stealing extra desserts from the kitchen. Sneaking into Dan Heng’s archive room. Rearranging Sunday’s books just to mess with him."

You snorted. "That's... that’s stupid."

"It is," he agreed. "But it works."

You bit your lip. You did like the sound of stealing extra desserts. "...Fine. One crime."

Caelus grinned. "That's the spirit."

Dan Heng was a quiet presence, but a comforting one. He didn't pry, didn't push—he simply sat beside you in the archive room, flipping through a book as you stared at the ceiling.

"You’re allowed to miss what was familiar," he said eventually, not looking up from the pages.

You glanced at him. "Even if it was terrible?"

"Even then."

You hesitated. "...Does it make me weak?"

He finally met your gaze, expression unreadable but steady. "No," he said simply. "It makes you human."

For some reason, that made your throat feel tight.

Himeko made you tea. It was warm, fragrant, and soothing in a way that made your chest ache. She didn’t say much at first—just sat with you, letting the silence stretch until you were ready to speak.

When you finally did, she listened. Really listened.

When you were done, she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"You deserved better than what you had," she said softly. "And you deserve to heal, too."

Your fingers curled around the teacup. "I don’t know how."

"That’s okay," she assured you. "You don’t have to figure it out alone."

Welt found you staring out the window again.

"You remind me of someone," he said, stepping up beside you.

You glanced at him. "Yeah?"

He nodded, eyes distant. "Someone who lost their home. Someone who didn’t know how to grieve for it."

You swallowed. "And what happened to them?"

Welt exhaled, gaze steady. "They found a new one."

Something about the certainty in his voice made your chest feel lighter.

You weren’t expecting Sunday to approach you. In fact, when he sat down across from you, you instinctively tensed.

"You seem down," he said in that airy, detached tone of his. "Would you like to talk about it?"

You blinked at him. Then, deadpan:

"Did you not just almost kill my friends while trying to revive an Aeon? Like... a week ago?? The hell are you suddenly acting like a saint for?"

Sunday chuckled softly, wings fluttering. "Fair."

You narrowed your eyes. "So? Why do you care?"

A pause. Then, quietly:

"Because I understand."

You frowned. "...Understand what?"

He glanced at the stars. "What it feels like to mourn something that was never kind to you. To feel lost between what was and what could be."

You weren’t sure how to respond to that.

Sunday tilted his head, studying you. "You’re not wrong about me. I am no saint. But even someone like me can recognize pain when they see it."

You looked away, arms tightening around yourself. "...I don’t know what to do with it."

Sunday exhaled softly. "You let it exist. And then, one day at a time, you learn to carry it."

For once, you didn’t have a sharp remark.

Instead, you just sat there, staring at the stars.

And for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

[eskir]

softly lay me down - sunday x reader

when he's tired, he seeks out you - fluff

a/n - honestly i wrote this bc i someone said they wanted sunday fluff somewhere. so i'm delivering one of the least concerning/angsty things i can write. also i need smth nice before aventurine angst

"Are you alright?"

You ask as your fingers brush through his hair, trailing down to his wings. You caress them gently, but sadness blurs your vision as you watch him. You can see the way exhaustion clings to him, and how he holds onto you for a respite from the feeling.

He only hums out a yes to your question, burying his head deeper into the crook of your neck. His embrace tightens, a silent plea for comfort, as he conceals his weary face. Even then you can see the way his eye bags have deepened. But you can only give him a comforting smile, a dim light in his world of darkness. So he turns his head towards you, shooting you a ghost of a smile

The internal conflict of the Family have been weighing on him for a week. You didn’t understand how the Family could have such drawn out arguments, and Sunday wouldn’t explain it to you either. Perhaps it was out of an old habit of his, the one where he prefers for the world to lay its problems on him and not the ones he loves.

It’s always too hard to tell what runs through his head as he tries to hide his thoughts and feelings. But even with that knowledge, you’ll still comfort and help take his formal gloves off. You play with the strands of his hair, letting the scent of his conditioner surround you. He provides comfort to you, draping his body over you and exuding that familiar warmth. So you embrace him back. Eventually as the night matures, you’ll lay him down to sleep, guiding him safely through the night.

And with the morning light, he’ll take off the ring you gave him with a kiss. He switches it for his formal gloves, but still slips it into his pocket with a reverence akin to one reserved for an aeon.

But it’s still evening, and your ring is on his hand. That hand reaches up for your face, tracing your jawline. He gets up slowly, looking down at you with a sly smile, one that he doesn’t have to fabricate when he presents himself as a representative. He can be himself with you. He can kiss your forehead and let his wings brush up against your cheeks in this safe place.

And when he does so, he genuinely smiles when seeing your reaction. You’re laughing, commenting that his wings tickle as you push him away affectionately. He lets out a deep chuckle, rubbing your face with his hand and showering you with kisses, nuzzling his cheek into yours.

If he isn't fine, at least you're by his side.

[signedkoko]

Alastor x gn! Reader wherein redemption has been found possible, and s/o had to be the first one to go while he's left in hell.

And he misses them.

Alastor X GN!Reader [Angst]

In which Alastor unfortunately lost you in a way he's not sure he can ever get you back.

Alastor met you at that blasted hotel long ago, when everything had first started

And no, he never believed it in, he always teased you before and after you were together about how much you trusted Charlie, as if there was any rhyme or reason

But you worked hard, harder than anyone else, even Charlie

Hours spent manning the hotel, encouraging others to join, keeping yourself clean and being kind

When you both wed, in his vows he joked if anyone, you'd be the first to go

What a sick joke

No one knew what was happening, when a light broke out and consumed you, when your body became lighter than air, when everyone saw you for what you were

An angel

Alastor wasn't there when it happened, he only saw the light pierce through the skies, and was at a loss when he tried calling but got no answer

Honestly, he didn't have much of a reason to worry

He just, well- he didn't feel right

So to assure himself everything was dandy as per, he decided to detour a little sooner back to the hotel

He saw celebration, he saw Charlie, he saw your ring on the floor

And he didn't see you

For the first in a long, long time, he struggled to smile

No one can get to him, and no one wants to, he's stood still, racing through every possibility, every action he has to take

He knows you're not hiding, you would never pull such a cruel joke on him

But then what

Everything he has done as a human, in the afterlife, everything about him

There's no way he could get into heaven, not for centuries and aeons

If he tried breaking into heaven for you and failed, it'd take quadruple that time to switch plans and make up for ever trying

It haunts him, knowing that the best course of action is to just, not do anything

He's always clutching your ring, staring at everything of yours in the hotel, pacing back and forth in your room, thinking

Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

And with months, then weeks, slowly more people start to join you

He can't admit it, but he's jealous, he is seething with nothing but envy and rage that everyone else gets to be with you, everyone but him

Alastor the Radio Demon eventually fades form the public eye, becoming nothing but an afterthought, a bad taste left over in the back of your throat when the topic comes up years later

No one knows where he is, what became of him

No one knows what pitiful creature he’s sunk into, obsessed with an angel he'd leave nothing but stains on

Author's Note - When I got this request I got SO excited, it really inspired me, so thank you!

[luna0713hunter]

Wonder If She Loves Me

⊰⊹its 3 in the morning and Izana misses you.

˙❥˙ warnings : breakup,makeup, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending

♫♪ music : Wonder if she loves me By JVKE

a/n : maybe this got too angst...oops? Hope you enjoy it tho, darling @milky-aeons

It's 3 in the morning and Izana can't sleep.

He's been staring at his ceiling for the past 2 hours or so (honestly he has lost the track of time),and something interesting about the cracks on the walls has his eyes wondering over to them every five minutes. his throat is slightly aching, but he cant really bring himself to get up and have a glass of water;so he just lays there,with his violet eyes wide open and his hands clamps over his chest. Usually,on these kind of nights,he would busy himself scrolling through his phone.

Not tonight though.

It's been a whole week since Izana had checked his phone; he's sure it's death already,but that's for the best. He doesn't need to look at his phone because there are only pictures of you greeting him.

He doesn't need a reminder of you.

But as time goes by,and the clock keeps ticking,Izana lets out a loud groan and pulls his pillow from under his head,and pushes it against his face;he desperately tries to stop himself from reaching out for his phone. To unlock it and find your contact.

To push a single button and call you, but he cant.

Because Izana is too much of a burden,and he knows that you deserve way better. You,who has the heart of gold,smile brighter than the sun,and gods above,your eyes-

Izana misses you. But he can't do anything about it;after all,he was the one who pushed you away. He was the one who suggested you two take a break. And like a coward he is,he just holed up inside his house for a week,not bothering to go outside or talk to anyone. But as each minute goes by, Izana's eye twitches more-

He reaches over and takes his phone.

Its dead,as expected;and he has to wait until the screen is lightened up again when he plugs it in. There are lots of missed calls and texts from his friends,and its a wonder that none of them have brought the door down already. They probably know he's not in the mood and just let him be for awhile. As Izana's scrolling down his texts,his phone vibrates in his hands and upon seeing the ID,he answers it with a sigh.

"What is it,Kakucho-"

"You have some balls to talk like that,Izana. I was about to grab an axe from the storage and knock your door down." Kakucho sounds mad. Izana doesnt understands why, "you've been ignoring our calls and texts all week. You've had all of us worried sick!we didn't know if you were death or alive or-"

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why have you been worried?"

There's silence on the other side,and the Kakucho sighs. Izana can particularly see him pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Stop with that. You know we..." Another pause. "..care about you." Kakucho finishes awkwardly.

And Izana doesnt get that; because all his life,no one's ever cared about him. Not when his own mother abounded him. Not when his older brother died and left him all alone.

And there's you.

Izana didn't know he loved you well pasted your friendship. He always though its just a friendship thing;like how he doesn't mind having Kakucho around. But as time passed by,he understood he didn't just like having you around;he wanted you all to himself. He wanted to call you his;to hold your hand and hear your sweet laughter. To be the reason for your every smile,and protect you just like how he always wished to be protected.

But now you're gone,and its his fault.

"Is this about y/n?" His friend's voice brings him back to the reality.

Because Kakucho could always read him like an open book.

So he rolls over,and lays on his side;his eyes have long adjusted to the darkness,and the faint light coming from the clock on his bedside has him staring at the staring at the small picture frame that's sitted upon it;a picture of you when he had taken you on a ride for the first time. You're grinning so brightly in the picture; your hair is slightly tousled and your cheeks are flushed. The sky is sunny behind you,but your smile is brighter than any star. He stares at the picture until its craved on his mind,and when he closes his eyes,he can see your face behind his eyelids.

"Izana..." Kakucho's voice is softer this time, "call her. You know she loves you."

"I was the one who suggested this. I broke her heart."

"She understands."

"She deserves better." And at last,after a week long of staring aimlessly at the pictures on the wall,Izana finally grits out the thought that hunted his every waking moment and sleep.

Because it was true;you deserved someone better.

That's why Izana did this;why he broke your heart. Why he invited you over to your favorite cafe and when you were laughing about something silly that your friends did,he blurted out those words.

"Let's break up."

And he had given himself a moment to admire you one last time;to see how your face had crumbled,and your pretty smile had suddenly vanished completely. He waited and felt that sickening twisted in his heart;like a knife had dug itself deep in his chest. But he was sure a knife wound would've hurt less than the defeated look on your face.

He hadn't waited for you to ask why; because he couldn't tell you the reason. He couldn't bring himself to tell you how much you mean to him, but you deserve someone who's not so broken and obsessed with revenge.

So Izana had left;had rode home, feeling absolutely nothing. He had turned off his phone,and buried himself under his covers.

It's 3:15 am,and gods above,he misses you.

As if sensing his every thought, Kakucho breaks the heavy silence.

"Call her,Izana." And with that,he hangs up.

Izana listens to the silence before opening his eyes once again. He stares at the too bright screen of his phone,but he's just lost in the picture of the two of you as his wallpaper. The smiling face of his own face feels alien,but your blinding one is all too familiar.

The picture is months old,his favorite one yet,but it feels like he'd taken it yesterday.

The day he'd asked you to be his girlfriend,he had promised you he'll always protect you. You had laughed,called him your hero with a cheeky grin,and kissed him softly.

He had promised you to be a better man in his heart,but he was always good at breaking his promises.

But now,as he stares at your contact,and the clock shows 3:30 am,his finger hovers over the 'call' button;he knows you're sleeping. You dont have any reason to dwell over someone like him. Because he's a rotten soul,and he knows it fully well. But he can hear your voice telling him he's wrong;that you love him no matter what. He can see you frown,your beautiful eyes shining sadly as you cup his cheeks and kiss his forehead.

He can still feel the ghost of your lips on his skin.

Izana sighs and closes his eyes;he drops the phone on the mattress beside his head,the screen laying down. Like this,he can't see your smile on on his phone. Like this,blinded by the light of his phone,he can't momentarily see the picture frame on his bedside.

Like this,he can pretend you never existed;that he was all alone since day one.

But that's impossible. Stupid even; because the day you entered his life with your smile and understanding eyes,Izana hasn't been alone ever since. And now that you're gone, there's a hole in his heart;right in the middle of it where you belonged. No, that's not right.

There's a hole where his heart used to be,and the day he left you in that cafe,he clawed his heart out and left it with you there.

There's a hole in izana's chest that he knows will never be filled.

His room is quiet, eerily so. So when his phone starts vibrating right next to his face,his eyes snap open.

He's ready to tell Kakucho off;that he doesn't need to call you and ruin your life any further. He's ready to yell at his only friend,and then shut off his phone and never turn it back on again.

But when he turns his phone over and is ready to press the 'answer',he sees the ID.

Your name, along with the heart emojis you'd insisted he put beside it,makes him stare at the too bright screen until his eyes are burning.

Its almost 4 in the morning. There's no way you're calling him.

Maybe its just a dream;he hasn't slept well these past few days,always tossing and turning until the dawn. Maybe he'd fallen asleep the minute Kakucho had hang up. He's sure he's dreaming, because you're supposed to forget all about him;to move on with your life and forget someone as rotten as him.

Izana's sure he's dreaming.

He presses the 'answer' button.

There's a moment where neither of you say anything;he can hear the sound of your trembling breathing,and he closes his eyes. It must be a dream;his worst nightmares. That you always call,but doesn't say anything and he has to suffer through it knowing you will never talk to him ever again.

"... Izana?"

His eyes snap open.

"Iza...?are you there?"

And Izana doesn't know what to say; this isnt like any dream or nightmare he ever had. Usually, in his dreams,he watches you suffer because of his selfishness;cryin, bleeding.

Dying.

But now,as he hears your soft and gentle voice (always so caring with him),he knows he's not dreaming.

That its 3:47 am,and you've actually called him.

"Yeah," he chokes out, "yeah, I'm here."

At that,you let a shaky exhale and grow quiet.

"I-... I'm sorry I called at this hour.you were probably sleeping."

"I wasn't."

"You.. weren't?"

Izana laughs breathlessly. Bitterly.

"No,i wasn't." His fingers play with a loose thread on his sheet, "why..."

"I never got the chance to ask why, Iza." Your voice sounds broken,hurt. Izana wants to rip his heart out;maybe bleeding hurt less than hearing your broken tone, "was it...was it something i did?i wasn't good enough?"

And gods above,he was never so tempted to kill himself in his whole damn life.

Because,how even for a second did you think that you were the problem?

That you were anything but perfect?

"No baby, no" and Izana hates how his voice shakes; his body trembling because he doesn't have the right to act this way when he was the one who broke your heart, "it was never you. How could you think that?"

"But you left," Izana squeezes his eyes when your first sob comes out, "and didn't even tell me why."

And this is his punishment,Izana thinks;to listen to your muffled sobs at 4 in the morning and not being able to reach out. To comfort you,to hold you close and tell you how sorry he is.

Because Izana is a rotten, rotten man. He doesn't deserve someone like you.

"Iza," you say between your sobs, "its been a week and you didn't call. Kakucho-kun said he couldn't get a hold of you. I was worried sick!" When your voice cracks, Izana clenches his fist so tight his knuckles turn white.

Even after a whole week of suddenly breaking up with you and not even bothering to tell you why,you still worry about someone like him.

"Babe, listen to me." His voice is calm,if not slightly shaky, "nothing was ever your fault,i just..."

"Then why?"

You sound so small. Izana can see you burying your face in your pillow;your tears already soaking through the sheets.

"Because," he chokes slightly;voice cracking, "babe...i..."

He takes a deep breath.

"You deserve so much,much better.i couldn't have done that to you."

You're quiet. You don't even breath.

Izana shuts his eyes and sighs.

"Y/n...baby doll,you were everything to me;my whole life,my only reason for living. But..." And Izana doesn't cry,he doesnt. But his eyes burn and his throat is closing up, "but i had to let you go."

"So you gave up on me. On us?"

"I never gave up on you. But i couldn't -"

"Iza," you softly cut him off, because that's all you've ever been with him;too gentle,too caring, "the things that's going on in your head,i cant stop them. But babe...i love you so much."

"I'm broken."

"No one's perfect,darling." You tell him. Ever so patient, "broken or not, you're still my Izana. And i..." He can feel you biting your lips, "still love you too much to let you go.."

And for the first time in the entire week,he thinks he can breath a little better.

"I love you too." He whispers,eyes glued to your pictures frame.

"Then..lets try again?" There's a hesitation in your voice,a slight quiver. "This time,no hiding secrets though,alright?"

And Izana smiles,for the first time in forever and nods.

"Deal." Then he glances at his digital clock, "can i...come over?"

"Its 4:15 am,babe." You sound surprised;like he hasn't done this before. Izana rolls his eyes, "dont you wanna sleep?"

"I cant sleep without you in my arms. Please?"

And when you giggle, although voice slightly hoarse from all the crying,his grin widens more.

"I take that as a yes." But even before saying that, he's already grabbing his jacket and keys,and rushing out the door toward his motorcycle.

"Be careful!!"

And your laughter,makes him let out a laughter on his own;how could he ever,even for a second,think he could let you go?

Oh,he has a lot to makeup for.

[st6rly]

❛ in the soft. ❜

synopsis : 　 a demon and an archbishop; a mercenary and a merchant. two sides of the same coin and yet luocha's never felt further away. 　 ╱ 　 word count : 　 0.6k

characters : 　 luocha x gn!reader

categories : 　 a mix of fluff & angst if you squint. drabble. mini character analysis style fic.

warnings : 　not proofread. the setting is not canon compliant. religious aspects. mentions of death. he thinks of killing you for a hot minute </3

tags : 　 @tragedy-of-commons. @whatisnurotypical + for @luvether as an apology for mischaracterizing her guy so horribly this entire time during ebg <33

The fire is too warm. Light dances along the ground with each crackle of splintering wood as shadows scramble away from the source. Here, the trees are cruel. Gnarled branches creep along the dark sky, hands outreached in prayer and pleas, blocking out what little light is given by the half-moon. In the centre, sitting weary faced and droopy-eyed, Luocha tightens his grip around the pendant in his gloved hand. The metal sears his palm through the thin fabric, pressing hot indents into the meaty flesh. 

“Aren’t you tired?” 

Watercolour green eyes clash with yours, locks of blonde falling soft and gentle on his face as his head snaps up from its bowed position. On the other side of the fire, cloak acting as a blanket, you sit there far too relaxed. A curl of distaste taints his lips. They drop back neutral, too quick for you to catch in the dark. 

“Aren’t you?” he responds, tone tight, almost mocking with a single eyebrow raised. I’m losing it, he thinks. The metal burns a tad bit hotter. 

“Who wouldn’t be?” You shrug. Scarboard set to the side, the hilt is worn and leather peeling. He watches you poke at the embers, takes note of the slump in your shoulders and the fatigued expression you try to hide. Luocha sighs. 

“Then rest,” he says, blunt—perhaps even callous, “I will keep watch.” 

You pause, head tilted as if thinking, before you chuckle, “Nah. Don’t trust you enough for that, Merchant.” 

He stiffens. Weeks of this and yet Luocha hasn’t adjusted to the quips and sharp words you spit back, too used to the wordless responses of a cold body. Mad, isn’t he, for talking to someone so far out of reach. He rests a hand on the coffin.

“Maybe you should, Merc,” he scoffs, just as bitterly. Perhaps the journey has taken a greater toll on him than he thought. “Don’t you want your pay? Or are you backing out of our deal?” 

He knows who you are—what you are. Though at first glance you play the part, there is no fooling the fool. The curve of your lips, the unnatural shine of your eyes, the Purity Palace warned him of those who wear the faces of humans, to deny forgiveness to those who don’t wish to seek it. You smile. Luocha lingers on your lips, the skin stretched taunt to the teeth. 

“It’s not really my loss, is it?” It’s rhetorical. You rest your hands in the dirt behind you, palms pressed as if seeking pardon. “You need the ‘protection,’ not me. If you died tomorrow, would I care? I’d rob you blind.” 

You look over at the silent body. “Maybe even crack open that casket while I’m at it.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you aren’t that type of person.” He says it so matter-of-factly, he almost falls for it too. The truth is, you are that kind of person. “You too can grieve and feel, no matter how much you wish to deny it.” 

It falls silent. 

Luocha doesn’t know why he deludes himself into believing you can be saved. Your redemption isn’t up to him regardless of how he may feel. It would be so easy. He eyes the graceful lines of your neck, imagines his pure hands sinking into the soft muscles and tendons. He wonders if you bleed the same. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you mutter, head pivoting away from his glare. 

“Forgive me,” he whispers. To himself, to you, to the aeon that cannot watch from above.

© ST6RLY ﹕ all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, use for asmr role-play, feed into ai, or claim any of my writing as yours.

[kaiijo]

A GATHERING OF CLOUDS — BLADE

content: fem! reader, angst, bittersweet/open ending, generally follows the clouds leave no trace mission but i’ve taken some liberties, spoilers for post-xianzhou arc, reader is one of the ten stonehearts and goes by ‘tourmaline’ notes: this story mission broke my heart 

You sigh as you read through the massive file your department head dumped on you. From what you’ve skimmed through, it seems that there’s a problem you’ll have to arbitrate on the planet of Venovia regarding the building of their Quantum Collider. The problem is simple, really, just a matter of the neighboring planet refusing to grant clearance for the collider — did this report really have to go on for over seventy pages?

You’re about to flip to the next page when there’s a knock at your door. “Come in,” you call, eyes darting across the text in front of you. 

“Well, you look like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Topaz says as she walks in, sitting down in the chair in front of you. 

You snort, looking up at her. “No rest for the wicked, I suppose. Yan Shilou gave me this yesterday and said a resolution had to be proposed by the end of the week.”

“Three days away, then. Better get on it!”

“I would be working on it now if someone wasn’t distracting me in my office,” you say but your voice lacks any irritation. 

Topaz laughs a little, “What? You don’t want me to say bye before I head to Jarilo-VI?”

“Aeons, that’s right! I forgot!” You open up the bottom drawer of your desk and root around, finally feeling your fingers brush against what you’re looking for. You pull it out and hand her the box, wrapped in a cream-colored paper and secured with an orange ribbon. 

She opens the gift, finding a pair of dark gloves identical to the ones she usually wears, but you explain, “There’s lined inside. Belobog’s eternal freeze is nothing to joke about.”

“Wow!” She slides them onto her hands and says, “Thank you! They’re so soft inside!”

“It was my pleasure!” You smile at her and you two chat for a little before she gets up to leave. There’s a knock at your door before she can and you beckon the person to enter. 

Your assistant shuffles in, apologetically glancing between your mountain of paper and Topaz. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can come back—”

“Don’t worry, I was just about to leave,” Topaz says and she wiggles her fingers at you as a goodbye, disappearing around the corner. 

“Mail’s come in.” He hands you a small stack of letters, keeping one in his hand. You motion at it in question and he says, “This one’s odd. There’s no return address or any indication where it came from.”

He leans over to give it to you and you slice it open with a dagger-shaped letter opener. Your assistant eyes it and says, “I always forget to tell you how cool that thing is. It’s so well-made!”

Your finger runs over the grooves of the handle. Even though the metal is cool, you swear you can still feel the warmth of the forge and of the hands who crafted it. You turn it over in your hand and finally manage to reply, “Thank you.” 

You know it sounds flat and strained so you instead busy yourself with the letter. There’s no visible ink when you slide it out of the envelope but as you unfold it, the words materialize into a message written in swift, decisive strokes. 

It has been a very long while, hasn’t it? I hear you’re going by Tourmaline now. It suits you, as does your high-ranking position in the Talent Motivation Department of the IPC — you always were a mediator. I know you have run off to the farthest corner of the universe to leave behind what has transpired. But in accordance with our old vow, I invite you once again roam our lands of past, drink in celebration and recount our great adventures.

You think your heart has stopped and your eyes examine the words over and over again. You forgot that your assistant is still in the room. He clears his throat hesitantly and asks, “Are you alright, ma’am?”

You suck in a deep breath and plaster a mask of smile on your face as you answer, “Yes, I am fine. You’re dismissed. And thank you for bringing in the mail.”

He casts you another worried look but says no more, nodding and exiting, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. You don’t realize how much you’re trembling until you pick up the note to read it one last time, the thin sheet shaking too. 

You scoff as your eyes fall on the final sentence and you scoff. As if vows meant anything to them. 

Your stomach churns and there’s a sting behind your eyes that you haven’t felt in years, yet you’re reaching for your phone and reserving a starskiff to the Xianzhou Luofu before you know it. 

“I believe that’s checkmate,” you said, grinning triumphantly as Jing Yuan froze, eyes darting across the board, trying to find a way out. 

“There’s always a way out,” he huffed, hand hovering over one piece, then another, then another.

You replied, “That’s not how chess works.”

He glowered at you and Jingliu sighed, standing behind Jing Yuan to gaze at the board. “You should have moved your knight here,” she said, pointing at a square. “Then you would have beaten her in three more moves and avoided the capture of the queen.”

Jing Yuan didn’t answer, still surveying the board. Dan Feng rolled his eyes at your friend’s fruitless determination. You laid back, delighting in the light mist of water that sprays from the surrounding waterfalls. You loved Scalegorge Waterscape — it was rare to find somewhere with so much nature in the Alliance. “Wait,” Jing Yuan said and you sighed dramatically. He continued, “What if—”

A low gravelly voice sounded behind you. “Give it up, Jing Yuan, she has bested you again.”

You tilted your head to the source of the voice and smiled again, big and wide, heat sparking through your body when he offered you that signature smirk. Baiheng dashed ahead of him, waving the large bag of food they had picked up. He sat down beside you, long lithe fingers reaching over to brush a stray piece of hair from your face.

“Miss?” You jolt awake with a tight feeling in your chest. Your starskiff driver is turned around in his seat and staring at you. “We’ve arrived.”

“Oh!” You scramble to give him his credits and you climb out, stepping onto the Xianzhou Luofu for the first time in seven centuries.

Central Starskiff Haven is as busy as you remember, bustling with passengers embarking and disembarking from various spacecrafts. Merchants hawk their wares loudly, tourists slowing down to peruse as residents quickly rush past. 

You weave in between the crowds, the familiar smells of berrypheasant skewers and songlotus cake making your mouth water. Despite your anxiety, your heart swells as the sights and sounds and smells around you. You begin to make your way towards the next starskiff terminal when you hear footsteps approaching rapidly from behind. You tense, steeling yourself when you feel a hand on your shoulder. A voice breathes out your name in disbelief and your own eyes widen at the familiar sound. You turn around. “Yukong.”

She stares at you, repeating your name once more. A tentative smile appears and she says, “It’s been a while.”

“It has. How have you been?”

“Well, all things considered.” She hesitates and says, “A lot has happened since you left.”

Your stomach churns with guilt and you force out an answer: “You know I had to get away. After everything that happened—”

“Yes, I know.” She cuts you off and you can hear the betrayal leaking into her otherwise stoic tone. She squares her shoulder and asks, “What are you doing back?”

“I…” You debate telling her the whole truth but, perhaps against your better judgment, you don’t. Instead, you say, “I need to meet with Jing Yuan.” It’s not a lie, technically, but Yukong knows you better and from the way her lips purse, you can tell she doesn’t believe you entirely. 

“The general is not at the Seat of Divine Foresight at the moment. He’s dealing with matters concerning a prisoner right now.”

“I see.”

Another silence. When Yukong breaks it, you expect her to inquire further but she says, “You don’t have your bow on you.”

It makes you smile slightly. “I do, just not so conspicuously now.” You gesture to an intricate band around your wrist. 

“I’m surprised. You never would have parted with it before.”

“Things change.” Your eyes flicker over her and you ask, “Do you remember when I gifted you your first bow?”

It makes her smile a little too. “Yes. It was far too big for me. Baiheng laughed and laughed that day. I still have it.”

“Really?”

“It’s at home, hanging on my wall.”

“I figured you would have disposed of it, given everything…”

She sighs, “I thought about it but I couldn’t part with it. No matter what has transpired over these many years we’ve been estranged, you are still my bow master.” You don’t get a chance to reply before Yukong says, “I have to return to the Palace of Astram.”

“I understand.” You tilt your head up and look at the clear blue sky. Perfect flying weather. You look back at her. “Perhaps we can catch up some other time.”

A pause, then she nods. “I would like that.” Turning on her heel, she moves to leave, but over her shoulder, Yukong says, “Until next time, master.” Then, she melts into the bustling crowd and disappears among them. 

With a heavy exhale, you decide to go to Scalegorge Waterscape. You board a starskiff and head for Scalegorge Waterscape. It’s not a long journey at all but it feels interminable. Your heart pounds against your ribcage when you land, the sand soft under your boots as you disembark.

You can see the looming columns in the distance and you push down your nerves as you walk towards them, passing by the statue of your old friend. As you approach, a young boy with a blond ponytail walks past with a group of Cloud Knights flanking a man. The boy eyes you suspiciously and he’s about to question you when the man in custody says, “I presume you’re a part of the reunion.”

You don’t answer, brushing past both swiftly and silently. You see Jing Yuan first, his eyes meeting yours resolutely. He calls your name, voice low. The three others turn to face you and your heart stops. 

Jingliu, wearing the same blindfold covering her eyes that she had when she escaped the Xianzhou. Dan Feng, or rather, his reincarnation, gazing at you with a spark of recognition in his eyes as he reaches into the fog of his mind for memories of you.

And him. Yingxing, though, you don’t think he’s going by that name anymore. No, he’s taken on a different moniker, one befitting of the life he now leads. Blade, a Stellaron Hunter, a weapon for the Slave of Destiny. 

You force your feet to move, dragging you forward until you stand between Dan Feng — or whatever name he goes by now — and Blade. Jingliu starts to move now, her steps precise, and she stops in the center of your circle. “And so,” she begins, “everyone is present. I never thought the High-Cloud Hexad would be able to gather again in the same place after hundreds of years.”

You watch her intently as she continues, recalling the promise you all made so many centuries ago. No matter what happened, you would all gather together and share a drink. You remember that day with too much clarity, how Baiheng grinned when she suggested it, bright and beaming like the sun. You remember clinking your cups together to toast the vow. Those days feel so distant, so unattainable now. 

“How sad that Scalegorge Waterscape remains empty while the world continues to turn. Some of us have been reborn,” — her eyes slide over to Dan Feng’s reincarnation — “while others have been denied death.” Her head pivots towards Blade, addressing him still when she says, “Some have become criminals.” 

Then, she faces you. “And others have never stopped running and lost their souls along the way.”

Your hands clench into fists and you bite your tongue to stop from retorting but you know all too well how the IPC is viewed by much of the galaxy. Maybe you hoped that you would be regarded as one of the good ones. Maybe it’s just been denial on your part. 

Regardless, Jingliu is as she has always been, her words as sharp and accurate as ever. Your fingers brush over the band around your wrist that contains your bow.

“There are also those,” she says, peering upwards, “who can no longer fulfill their promises. And in the end, our friendship is no more. Soon, I will be shackled and tried. This will be the last you see of me. This is why I sent out the invitations before departing, hoping that everyone would be gathered here for my final farewell.”

Then, she utters the words you have heard time and time again in your sleep, in dreams and nightmares that never seem to end. 

“Of six people, three must pay a price.”

She’s still speaking but her voice fades into the back of your mind as the sound of your blood roaring fills your ears. You feel cursed, sometimes, as a long-life species, doomed to live and remember and suffer. 

You almost think Baiheng’s fate was the kindest of them all, unburdened of guilt and heartache and memories. 

And just as soon as you all gather, Jingliu soon begins to dismiss you. She and Jing Yuan discuss where she will be detained and as they turn to leave, Blade interrupts. Coldly, he says, “Before you leave, you still owe me my due.”

It’s all too clear what he wants. Your stomach drops at his request and finally, you really look at the man who used to be the man you loved. One of his hands is gloved, the other wrapped in bandages. There’s a bandage around his thigh. Another twined at his bicep. 

Your heart cracks. How much pain and suffering has he endured? How long has he begged for death and an end, felt the slide of a sword or the bullet of a gun, just to regrow again and return to the same agonizing cycle?

When Jingliu refuses to draw her sword against him without provocation, Blade draws his, an ancient, broken sword you’ve seen countless times when it was brand-new. One that has been shattered and pieced back together over and over again, just as its wielder has been as well. 

You hear Jingliu’s dreamy voice float above the clanging of metal. “Their faces still linger before my eyes, like a bygone dream.” As they begin to duel, your head spins and memories you’ve buried deep down in the recesses of your heart and mind break through their confines and seep into your bones. 

Baiheng’s loud laugh, ringing up to the stars as you walked the streets of Aurum Alley. Jingliu poured you a cup of tea as you caught up at her home. Jing Yuan fell asleep against your shoulder as you all sat together on a sunny day. Dan Feng’s exasperated voice called for you to slow down. 

Jingliu continues: “I thought those joyful days would flow indefinitely before us — like a Xianzhou lifetime.” Blade lunges for her, the tip of his sword skimming close to her face, intentional in its avoidance. Instead, it slices her blindfold and it flutters into the wind. 

You entered Yingxing’s workshop in the Artisanship Commission. Swords, daggers, and other weaponry lay around the shop, some cooling in water, fresh from the forge; others hanging on the wall. You found him hunched over his workbench, scowling and grumbling. 

You crept with quiet steps to him, tapping his shoulder. Yingxing whirled around furiously, expression softening slightly when he saw you. “What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“You promised you’d meet up with me an hour ago and when you didn’t show, I figured you’d be here.” You tried to peer at his workbench, but he moved in front of you, broad shoulders blocking your view.

“What’re you working on?”

“Nothing.”

“You were just huffing and puffing, Yingxing. That doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“It’s nothing worth your time,” he replied, standing up to usher you to the door, but he didn’t anticipate your quick reflexes, and you skirted around him. 

On the workbench sat a small ring. It was gold, dented and misshapen, so different from Yingxing’s regular work. “Don’t—” he started as you reached for it, turning it over in your fingers. 

“Who’s this for?” you asked, stomach turning at the thought of it being for another. 

“Nobody.”

You plastered a smirk on your face to hide your simmering jealousy. “Is it for that pretty shopgirl who always gives you an extra berrypheasant skewer for free?”

“No,” he grumbled.

“What about the girl—”

“It’s for you,” he said. “For your birthday next week.” 

“Oh!” Your heart swelled and you bit back the grin that threatened to break out. “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise. It’s beautiful, Yingxing.”

“No, it’s not. Discard it. I will make you something better.”

You reeled back from him, cupping the (jewelry) protectively in your hands. “I love it! It’s already perfect!”

“It’s sloppy.”

You frown at him defiantly and slide it on your finger with ease. “It’s perfect.”

“In what way?”

“Because it came from you,” you said. “Because it’s thoughtful and kind and I love it, and I love you.” The minute the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. It was out in the open now — the feelings you had been dancing around for months. Your unspoken pining finally made tangible with words.

He went still. “You love me?”

You laughed weakly, desperately fighting the anxiety clawing up your throat. “Isn’t it obvious?” When he didn’t reply, you began to say, “Forget I said anything”

“No,” he said. and then with one stride, he closed the gap between the two of you, lips crashing against yours.

Jingliu leaps into the air, sword aimed precisely and lethally. “Yet, dreams…” she says, “...will eventually fade — like clouds from the sky.”

You remembered when you had found out what Dan Feng and Yingxing had done, tampering with the Ambrosial Arbor and committing one of the most grievous of sins. You remembered how it felt like your heart had been ripped out when you heard of their fates, of Dan Feng’s forced reincarnation, Yingxing’s wicked immortality wrought by mara and his banishment. How you had sobbed and screamed and tore apart your shared home with Yingxing before your legs had given out and you sunk to the floor in despair and betrayal and hopelessness. 

You left the Xianzhou Alliance soon after, packed up in the middle of a cold, gray night and disappeared. You couldn’t stay, not in the home that reminded you of him or on the fleet that reminded you of them, of everything. You were adrift for a long time before Diamond found you. 

You watch as Jingliu drives her sword into Blade’s chest, the force sending him sprawling. She yanked it out of him, no blood spurting from the wound or flecking her blade. He lay there for minutes before jerking, eyes flying open and gasping for air. He sits up then stands quickly, and he says nothing further to her. 

As Dan Feng’s reincarnation goes to speak with Jingliu, then Blade, and Jing Yuan (Dan Heng, you hear Jing Yuan call him), you cautiously approach Blade. He’s looking out into the distance of Scalegorge Waterscape but he turns when you stand beside him. 

There’s no greeting, not that you expect one. He asks, “What do you go by now?”

“Tourmaline,” you answer. 

He just continues to stare at you. Then, Blade’s eyes flick down, settling on your neck. He points at the ring that you wear on a chain around your neck. “This,” he says. “What’s this?”

Your heart aches. He doesn’t remember. Of course, he doesn’t; the mara fragments his mind. You’re sure it’s familiar to him, which is why he’s asking, but like Dan Heng, he does not have all his memories from your former life. “You— Yingxing made it for me.”

“It’s ugly.”

You can’t help but scowl at him and there’s a sense of deja vu as you snap, “No, it’s not.” It’s perfect because it came from you. Because you crafted weapons and armor and things that were meant to be sharp and lethal; you were unused to making something meant for softness and love and you did so anyway for me. 

Blade doesn’t react. The breeze passing through rustles his long, dark hair. He’s as handsome as ever and you hate it. You hate this. You hate Jingliu for orchestrating this. You hate yourself for coming. And you hate him, this stranger who wears your beloved Yingxing’s face but will never be the man he once was. 

You don’t even realize that there are tears rolling down your cheeks until you feel hands, strong and calloused from years of work the owner of the appendage can only remember in fragments, cup your cheek. His thumbs wipe at your tears but when your eyes meet him, he freezes, eyes widening ever so slightly as if he can’t believe he’s doing it himself, a subconscious instinct driving him. A memory of what was. 

You expect him to withdraw swiftly but his hands are slow, fingers skimming your skin gently as if trying to savor the feeling and engrave it on their tips. They reach your chin, falling away. Blade’s arms hang at his sides and he’s still. 

Then, he turns away and begins his journey out of Scalegorge Waterscape. He casts one last long look at you over his shoulder, expression unreadable. Something swims in his crimson eyes that you can’t discern. You want to say it’s longing, maybe even something affectionate, but the man you loved is long gone. You can’t read this stranger. 

You blink and he’s vanished before your very eyes. It leaves you, Jing Yuan, and Dan Heng alone. Dan Heng says quietly to you, “You were the bow master of the Luofu.”

You offer him a sad smile. “I was.”

“Where are you going from here?” Jing Yuan asks.

“Back to Pier Point,” you respond softly. “I have matters to attend to for the IPC.”

“I see,” Jing Yuan says. “I would invite you to stay but I know it’s a selfish request.”

“Another time, General,” you say. “When I return again, we’ll meet up once more.” You address Dan Heng: “And you?”

“I’ll return to the Astral Express.”

“Ah,” you say wistfully, “a Trailblazer. It suits you.”

He gives you a nod and a small smile, and you say, “Goodbye, Jing Yuan. Goodbye, Dan Heng.”

You make your way back to the starskiff, still dutifully parked where you left it. As you climb inside, one last lingering memory drifts into your mind. 

“When I die,” Yingxing said as he held you close, curled around you protectively, “promise you won’t forget me?”

“Why are you talking about this, my love? Planning on dying anytime soon?”

“It is something to consider. I am not a long-life species. So promise me when I am gone, you won’t forget me.”

You gaze up at him, “As if I could ever forget about you.”

You massage your temples. This Quantum Collider nonsense is more of a headache than you anticipated. “Mail’s in!” Your assistant waves a stack of envelopes at you, placing them on your desk before taking his leave. 

You sift through the pile — bills, forms you had to sign, scam letters about an overdue warranty… 

You pick out one envelope in particular. It’s red among a sea of white and you slice it open with your letter opener. The note you pull out only has a few words on it: a time and a place. There is no sign-off or official signature. All that is at the bottom was the Xianzhou character for the word ‘blade.’ 

[ironunderstands]

I’m gonna brainstorm some Ratio angst ideas for my next fic (feel free to steal them originality isn’t real anyways)

also like all of these are Aventio related

One of his students calls a hit on him for failing them and he’s bleeding out in an alleyway, I actually thought of this one w the help of one of my mutuals (I don’t remember ur tumblr @ aeon of ladies forgive me) I was thinking he passes out thinking he dies, unbeknownst to him Aven saves him, and he wakes up in a hospital unable to do anything for like a few weeks because I think one of Ratio’s biggest fears is being vulnerable, or even just being forced to take a break

@jailgarden suggested this in my inbox actually (I promise I’ll respond to it later properly pookie), but Ratio getting overstimulated and being unable to use his mask/hide like normal. Oh I love this one but I’ll get into it more later

He gets yelled at by a group of his students and just kinda breaks down and gets embarrassed and it like goes viral AUGHH THAT WOULD HURT

Ampherous related angst- like he got kicked out/sent away, he can’t ever talk about being from there, who knows, but I’m just praying we get lore of him there and it’s SAD

ooh what if he gets turned into one of his statues for a while

beat the shit out of him in general like I need Ratio on the floor crying sobbing bones broken losing it begging for help tweaking out please GODD HES SUCH A GOOD TARGET FOR THAT BC HE HIDES HIS FEELINGS SO MUCH UGHH

Aventurine goes to someone else in the Intellgencia guild for help and Ratio questions his worth for the next 3,000 words ooh

he fails at an important task or procedure or something when on a mission with Aventurine and even if it’s not that consequential in terms of their goals, the look of disappointment on the others face kills him

tfw you make a character who’s self worth heavily depends on being useful feel useless

Nous straight up says fuck off I don’t need you or like one of the GS members mocks him (probably Herta or an oc) or basically he gets his intellect demeaned and he can’t actually argue against it so he just kinda flounders (bring up Aiden maybe?)

just incapacitate him in general, Ratio cannot handle that

MIND CONTROLLL OOOHH BUT HES AWARE OF WHAT HES DOIJG GODDDD YESSSS AND WHAT IF OFHERS AROUND HIM ARENT AND THEY THINK ITS REAL OH I NEED FO WRITE THIS HOLD UPPPPP

Alright this is all my sleep deprived brain can cook up for now so enjoy! I’m probably gonna end up writing the first and last ones because yes.

[aventurinemybeloved]

Summary: You have eagerly been awaiting your boyfriend's arrival after getting a text that his work was cut short, when you didn't expect to see him not even a second after reading it.

gn!reader, fluffy fluff again because I don't want to add anymore angst to this man y'all, he almost got german suplexed lmao

Happy Aven day guys!

Seems today is my lucky day, we got the job done quicker than anticipated, be prepared to see me soon~

Reading his message made you excited, it's not everyday that his line of work ended that quickly, more often than not it was the opposite, going days, weeks months even with having minimal contact with your lover due to how engrossed he is with his work, having a high position and all, but he never forgot to send at least one message a day to you, both to ease your worries and also quench his desire to talk to you again.

Your mind raced with ideas on what activities to do with the man once he's finally back home, of course you plan on making sure he's rested up first before doing anything but that still doesn't stop you from imagining date ideas, maybe a trip to a nearby planet that you've been eyeing of going to, or perhaps just a normal romantic dinner, the possibilities are endless when you're together with him.

So engrossed in thought, the looming figure behind you went unnoticed until it was far too late, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, as your fight or flight response activated right away, ready to beat the crap out of whoever dares to-

"Hey~ I was wondering why you weren't replying, only to see you standing here with that goofy look on your face"

Speak, or well think of the devil and here he comes, your eyes must be playing tricks on you, or so you think because there's no way in hell he's actually here so quickly, standing there wide eyed as the blonde just stared back at you without saying anything, but that sly smile tells you all you need to know.

And so, like the logical person that you are, you hit him on the chest, not that hard, but also enough to make him fake being hurt by the sudden attack.

"Ouch- come on what gives, is this really how you treat your boyfriend after he comes home?"

"I'd treat him much better if he didn't come home with the intent of scaring me to death!"

You exclaimed loudly, pouting as Aventurine merely laughs at the silliness of this situation, taking your hands in his, he gave it a soft peck as those eyes looked at you with such longing.

"Sorry, I just wanted to surprise you."

It was now your turn to give him some much needed affection, as you kissed him on the cheek, chuckling at his surprised expression.

"It's okay, Welcome home Kakavasha."

His gaze softened at hearing that name come out your mouth, the feeling of pride and love in his chest at the fact that he has someone like you here now, and he's never been more grateful for it, maybe it was his luck that brought you together, perhaps it was fate, or an aeons doing, whatever it may be, he's just glad to be home with you.

"It's good to be back."

[aeonloves]

“Say you’ll remember me” “I… I'm sorry, okay? I can't remember you” he gave up on thinking, taking a deep breath and holding it in. He felt the woman still, her hands dropping back to her sides and her mouth opening for a second before closing it again, she was so unsure of what to say to him right now.

“What do you mean?” She asked, and he could tell that her voice was disappointed in a way, and it made him sick to the stomach, but there it was, that was her voice, he knew her voice for sure now, maybe he can recall the letters he can from her with her actual voice now.

“I don't know”

Or; Leon slowly forgets Ada — aeon angst week, day 3 - amnesia

[materlux]

The Priestess and The Swordsman - Chapter 1: A Xianzhou stowaway.

Eden: A planet mostly avoided by travellers, due to their obsession with their aeon and their tendency for human sacrifices. The planet is lush and the soil is fertile, they produce more food than they could ever eat, and it’s all thanks to their ‘benevolent’ god, Yaoshi, the Abundance.

The Garden of Auri: The garden was once well kept and beloved by the nearby residence, then like a sudden switch, the residence abandoned the garden. It has been left to its own devices since then, to this day no one knows what happened.

Honkai Star Rail | Main Masterlist

CW: Angst, break down, hurt/comfort, mentions of: Blood, death, Jing Yuan. 3.8k words

The Xianzhou Luofu, one of six Xianzhou Alliance ships owned by the Hexafleet, traverses the endless universe in search of Denizens of the Abundance. Dedicated to The Hunt, Lan, and shares THEIR hunt for the Abundance, Yaoshi.

   The Luofu is led by the Six Charioteers of which only three members are known; Yukong, the Helm Master of the Sky-Faring commission, Fu Xuan, Master Diviner of the Divination commission, and Jing Yuan, General of the Cloud Knights.

   Of these three people you don’t know who you’d rather have met first, or at all if you could choose. You’d been hiding out on the Luofu for less than a few days, but people had already taken notice of your strange behaviour, and so for the last couple days you felt like you were being watched. And you were, by the cloud knights, see some store owners must have thought your strange behaviour was a sign, a sign of theft or plans of theft.

   Being watched by the cloud knights only made your behaviour worsen, how were you supposed to know that they thought you were just a kid up to trouble, and not that they had figured out that you were from Eden.

   You’d been hiding out in an uninhabited house in the back of some garden that most people avoid, the garden in question you’d later learn was called Garden of Auri. It’s not necessarily overgrown, but some bushes could use a trim and some flowers were growing out of their beds. You didn’t mind, if anything the extra plants made for good cover, you felt safer among them, they also offer good test subjects.

   Plants no longer grow inexplicably around you, flowers don’t bloom in places or at times in which they’d surely die, you were free. And yet this didn’t feel like the freedom Kaira and Lethe had shown you, or the freedom you had dreamed of and read about. 

   The mark on your arm, the one that was burned into your bones, has spread further. Long black tendrils like water running along your skin, reach from the palm of your hand, down the back of your forearm and onto the front. It doesn’t burn anymore, but your arm is getting weaker and sore, you still cover it the best you can.

   The Alchemy commissions healers offer little help, in their defence it’s not easy helping a patient, who won’t tell or show you the problem. The best they could offer was a recommendation, a specific kind of herbal tea sold in Aurum Alley that is supposed to soothe soreness and help with sleep.

   Aurum Alley, the street most tourists are drawn to, with its friendly atmosphere and many options in delicacies native to the Luofu. It’s here you buy most of your supplies, given its more laid back nature and the openness of the area, and of course the lack of on guard cloud knights. 

   By now you know these streets like the back of your hand, you use the small streets and back roads to stay out of sight. You buy your recommended tea from Du’s Teahouse, Boss Du has by now given up on convincing you to buy some of his other ‘teas’. Maybe your mistake is that you got too comfortable in these streets, that you don’t notice the people following you.

   Running through the near empty alleys was not your plan, you had hoped to lie low for at least a couple more days, maybe even a few weeks more, before you became part of the normal society. You aren’t out of shape per se, but you’re very thankful for your knowledge of these streets and your agility.

   The cloud knight following you doesn’t have trouble keeping up speed wise, but you keep turning down a new street that at this point they don’t know where in Aurum Alley they are. In the end you lose them in the winding near identical streets, and you make your escape out of Aurum Alley.

   On your way to the garden you nearly collapse, it’s odd that’s never happened before. You sit on the ground against a wall in the shade, this road isn’t frequented so there aren’t many people around, you’re on your own.

   Your breathing becomes laboured and shallow, your vision is blurring at the edges, and it’s suddenly far too hot despite the usual weather of the Luofu being a comfortable temperature. You close your eyes, but this only makes everything spin slowly, it makes your stomach churn. You hunch over your legs and hold them close as you breathe in deep.

   The world around you gets tuned out, you don’t notice the sound of boots and clinking metal, it stopping abruptly then coming closer. You only notice this person when a warm hand is gently placed on your upper back. Your breathing stutters for a moment, you lift your head to look at the person, you squint but can’t make out any distinct features with your blurry vision.

   It takes you a second to tune the world back in, so you can hear what they’re saying. “What?” You ask in a quiet voice, so quiet the word is nearly lost in the wind, but they hear you. 

   They adjust and repeat themself, “are you okay?” They ask, their voice like honey in your ears, it takes a moment before the words and their meaning register.

   “Mhm,” you hum and nod once, the action makes your head throb with a dull pain. You breathe deep and carefully, your knees slide away from your body to make the action easier.

   “Are you sure?” They ask, there’s concern in their voice, it makes you uneasy. “You’re shaking,” they add.

   “I’m sure,” you breathe, but you are shaking, you notice, and you cradle your arm to yourself like it hurts. It does hurt, the feeling hits you like a ton of bricks, the pain spreads from your hand to your shoulder. The burning feeling is back in your bones, it almost makes it numb. You fight back tears, you don’t want to cry in front of this stranger, you can’t trust them yet, you can’t show them weakness that they can use against you.

   The hand on your back moves soothingly along your shoulders, you try to focus on it. “Breathe,” they instruct you, their voice is soft. “Let me help you.”

   “No, it’s fine.” You try to shake your head, but it hurts too much.

   “It’s not fine, you need help.” Their right, you know their right, but you can’t trust them. “C’mon, let’s get you somewhere safer, somewhere you can get help,” they say, but you make no attempt to move. They stay by your side, waiting for something, for you to give in to their offer of help and you do.

   “Fine,” you mutter, closing your eyes again to ignore the world spinning faster. They watch you for a while longer before they mutter a quiet apology, it barely registers in your mind before you’re pulled into warm arms. You don’t get to protest as they stand up with ease, and turn to make their way down the road.

   Your mind becomes more muddled and you start dozing off, they speak a few more words, most don’t register in your swimming head. You think they introduced themself, something with a title.

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   You wake up 3 hours later, in a clean bed, in a sterile room. This must be the Alchemy Commissions infirmary, despite having been here at least twice, you have never seen the inside of the building outside of the consultation rooms.

   A woman, foxian, with dark hair and eyes checks on you when you wake. She sets a glass of water down on the small table beside your bed, and offers to fetch you some food, you’re about to decline when there’s a knock on the door.

   The woman opens the door, a child walks in followed by an imposing man, he looks down at the child with an apologetic expression as she scolds him. The foxian woman leaves the room, the two new people continue their conversation, like you aren’t even there.

   You reach out for the glass, your hand shakes weakly and you feel heavy. You can barely hold onto the glass, the shake in your hand gets worse with the weight. You end up attempting to place the glass back on the table, it almost doesn’t go wrong, almost. Your shaking ends up knocking the glass over, water spills over the table onto the floor, at least the glass didn’t break.

   The room is quiet, you note, you look up and the two new people are looking at you. They both look sympathetic, you hate that look it reminds you of the priest, but there’s something more in the man’s eyes. It’s like he knows something about you, it makes you want to shrink in on yourself, and you do a little, sitting against the pillow behind you with your head hung.

   The child sighs and walks over, she grabs the empty glass off the table, then excuses herself and leaves the room, presumably to get more water. The man observes you from afar, before moving closer. He stands at the foot of the bed with crossed arms, you study his attire but avoid his face.

   “Priestess,” his voice is stern, but you recognize a softness in it, he’s the stranger. With one simple word you are reduced to a meek pile of anxiety, he knows, you repeat those two words to yourself over and over again. Someone from the Xianzhou Alliance, someone dedicated to The Hunt’s mission to kill the Abundance, someone knows who you are, where you’re from, what you did.

    “Priestess,” he repeats, you shake your head, tears line your eyes. You shouldn’t have stayed on the Luofu for this long, you only wanted to lose the people hunting you before you moved on. “Priestess?” He sounds closer now, a warm hand grasps your shoulder, it makes you flinch.

   “Sorry.” The word comes out in a muddled mix of coherent speech and a sob, tears stream down your face in warm lines.

   “Hey, look at me.” His voice has softened and lost its stern edge, he hovers by your side. You shake your head and lean away.

   The child comes back with the refilled glass of water, she places it on the small table and takes in the scene before her. Your distressed disposition meets her analysing gaze first, then the man by your side whose hand now hovers over your shoulder.

   “General,” she starts in a stern tone. “I told you not to stress out my patient.” She puts her hands on her hips, like a mother scolding her son. The General looks guilty, “Lady Bailu,” he tries. She points to somewhere further in the room, and like a kicked puppy the General of the Luofu steps away from your side.

   “Breathe child,” Lady Bailu tells you, she walks around the room and comes back with some tissue papers to dry your eyes. “Here, drink.” She pushes the glass closer to your bedside, you heed her command and pick the glass up gently, you have to focus hard not to spill it again.

   Lady Bailu turns away from you and sends the General a glare, she ushers him to a corner of the room, the two engage in a discussion of sorts, Lady Bailu scolds him and he lets her.

   You hold the glass in both hands, sipping at the cold water carefully. You sniffle and regain control of your breathing, the glass is cold in your hands and it grounds you. The room is quiet, save for the muttered discussion in the corner, they must be discussing what to do with you.

   You feel heavy and weak, you were never this meek when you were a child, but you also weren’t a wanted criminal on a ship full of people dedicated to hunting your aeon. You suppose anyone would become meek in such a situation.

   “Child?” Lady Bailu catches your attention, there’s something comical in this woman who looks younger than you calling you child, but based on the horns and tail she must be vidyadhara. You look at her, she stands by your side, the General keeps his distance.

   “The General wants to talk to you,” Lady Bailu tells you in an even tone. “Do you want to talk to him? You don’t have to, not now.” She looks deep into your eyes, you mull over your options, is it really okay if you deny the General? You know you’ll have to talk to him eventually, now that you have been found out, it will be near impossible to get off the Luofu.

   You decide to rip the bandaid off and get it over with, the General has to be a reasonable man, maybe if you explain everything to him, he will offer you some leniency. “It’s okay, I don’t mind,” you tell Lady Bailu, she nods and shoots the General one last warning glare before leaving the room.

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   The chair is settled on the floor with a dull thud, the General takes his seat by your side, you don’t look at him. The room is quiet, the air is dense and you shift in your seat.

   “Tell me,” he starts, “are you from Eden?” It’s a stupid question, he already knows the answer, he knows who you are, it’s meant as an ice-breaker.

   “Yes.” You don’t offer much in your reply, it’s soft, barely piercing the air.

   “Eden is a planet favoured by the Abundance, right?” The planet is untraversed, but not unknown. “It is.” You still won’t look at him.

   “You are part of the cult of the Abundance-”, “were,” you correct without thinking, it dawns on you that you just cut off the General of the Luofu. You shrink a little. “You were part of the cult of the Abundance?” He wonders out loud. “Yes, I left.” You didn’t really leave, more so fled the place after your crime. 

   “Why’d you leave?” He asks, you don’t know what to say, you don’t know if you can tell him the truth about the cult. Not because he can’t know, but you don’t know if you can retell it, to relive it. Repressed memories float around the forefront of your mind, the blade you should have discarded long ago, the blood, the feeling, the pain, the scar aches.

   “Why’d you leave?” He tries again, this time softer. He must sense your nerves, your tense shoulders and uneven breathing. “You don’t know?” You ask instead of answering.

   “I believe I do, but I want to be certain.” He keeps an even tone, he wants to hear it from you, you know, but you can’t say it. “What do you believe?”

   “You’re wanted by the High Council of Eden for the massacre of the cult of the Abundance, including a priest held in high regard.” That’s the story the Council is going with, it’s not wrong factually, but it lacks your motive. “That’s true.” You feel small next to him.

   “Why did you do it?” He asks, how could you ever articulate what you saw that day, what words could ever do it justice. You can’t find any, but it seems your silence speaks more than you intended.

   “They did something to you, didn’t they?” He asks tentatively, you just nod along, words elude you at this point.

   “Did they hurt you?” His tone grows darker, but somehow you get the feeling it’s not because of you. You nod again, and the General takes a deep breath, he thinks over the information and which questions work best. He doesn’t want to stress you out again, but he has questions that need to be answered.

   “Is that why you did it?” The it stays unspoken, but you know what he means. Was it revenge? Yes, was it revenge for what they did against you? “No.” Your short answer hangs in the air, the General’s brow furrows.

   “Then why?” He asks, you think it over, how can you tell him everything in the simplest way. It has to be simple, because if you make it complicated you might not finish. “For them,” you answer, your voice rises slightly, like you're not just telling him but yourself as well.

   “The two underage victims?” ‘Victims’, the word leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, if it wasn’t for you they wouldn’t be victims, if you could’ve just accepted your fate they’d still be alive. “It’s my fault.” It’s your fault, you used them for your own desire to be free. It’s your fault, they stayed longer than they should, you walked out too far. It’s your fault.

   “But you didn’t kill them,” he states it like it matters, like that fact alone means you weren’t a part of the problem. “They were there because of me.”

   “That doesn’t make it your fault,” he reasons. “But.” You want to argue, tears spring to your eyes, you can’t argue with him.

   “It’s not your fault,” he reassures. “They chose to be there, they chose to be with you.” His hand hovers over your own, warmth radiates from his palm. “But.” The word comes out choked as tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

   “It’s not your fault.” He holds your hand gently, the warmth and rough texture grounds you to the present. “You didn’t know what would happen, neither did they.” Your breathing stutters, the blanket in your lap soaks up your tears.

   “It’s not your fault.” You can’t hold it in anymore, you didn’t intend to break down in front of the Luofu General, but sobs wrack your body. You cry freely, he holds your hand the whole time, his thumb begins to gently stroke over the unmarred skin on the back of your hand.

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   After you’ve calmed down the General leaves your side and Lady Bailu comes back, she offers a soft pat on your hand. You feel icky, but a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

   Lady Bailu stands at your bedside opposite of where the General sat, she holds out her hand. “Let me see your arm,” she instructs, you hesitate, but let her inspect the black tendrils. They’ve grown in quantity since you last looked at them, their beginning to resemble a broken spider web.

   She hums to herself, deep in thought. “Does it hurt?” She asks, you shake your head no. “Do you know how you got it?” She asks, you think back to the statue. “Yes, the statue in the church was crying. Drops of water from it landed in my palm, it burned.” She nods along as you explain, studying the marks more closely.

   “A crying statue,” she mutters more to herself than you. “Did the statue represent a specific god?” She looks around the room, she spots whatever she is looking for on a nearby cabinet. “Yaoshi.” Lady Bailu returns with a wet cloth, she gently dabs it on the markings, you sigh in contentment, you hadn’t realised the marks were so warm. “The Abundance.” She nods to herself.

   “Is it possible that the Abundance has cursed you through the statue’s tears?” It’s the best theory, it explains the odd marks and the strange reason for their occurrence. “Yeah, Yaoshi would do that as punishment for what I did.” It makes sense, you disrespect THEIR church during a ceremony, that would anger any god and cause retaliation.

   “Then I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do then,” she says, she seems genuinely sorry. “That’s okay,” you assure her, she offers you a smile.

   “Is there anything I can do to help?” You think the question over, the incident that led to you being in the infirmary is the first of its kind. “Do you have anything for pain or soreness?” You ask instead, it was just a fluke you assure yourself, it won’t happen again. “Pain and soreness, yes I think I have something for that,” Lady Bailu says before she leaves the room.

   Lady Bailu comes back with a small container, she opens it to show you the salve inside, she smears it over your arm and makes sure to cover the marks. She then finds some gauze and wraps it around your arm, she gives you the salve and a few rolls of gauze, along with instructions.

   Leaving the infirmary you make your way through the Alchemy Commission’s streets, once you make it back to the road where you collapsed, you’re met with a familiar face. The General smiles at you, he seems much more relaxed now.

   He walks along with you in silence for a while, he notes the small container and gauze in your hands. “Did you figure out what the marks are?” He’s making small talk, you look down at your bandaged arm and think back to Lady Bailu’s theory.

   “The theory is that Yaoshi cursed me for my crime.” He nods along.

   “I would advise that you don’t say THEIR name out loud,” he warns, you hadn’t realised you were doing that, it was like second nature for you to call them by name. But it makes sense that it would be taboo to do so on a Xianzhou Alliance vessel, you’ll have to keep that in mind for later travels.

   By the stairs to the garden you turn and begin your ascension, the General looks on in confusion. “Priestess?” He calls after you, the title makes you freeze. “Please don’t call me that,” you ask, looking back at him.

   “Then what should I call you?” It’s then that you realise that you never introduced yourself, you laugh to yourself and offer him your name. “Was there something you needed?” You ask him afterwards.

   “Why are you going to the Garden of Auri?” He looks at you, seeming perplexed, you’d think the General of the Luofu would know every part of the ship, you muse to yourself. “I live there.”

   He observes you for a moment, like he’s thinking what you said over. “General?” You ask with a raised brow. “Please, just call me Jing Yuan,” he replies, he shakes away his thoughts and bids you farewell, you watch him leave before continuing up the stairs.

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[wwaheoh]

"Pronoia", Kafka x gnReader, SFW, Comfort

a/n: a part two to "Paranoia" (Angst), would reccomend reading that first before reading this. not great at writing happy stuff so apologies if this sucks

Weeks passed after that fateful night. Your promotion had started rocky, as you stayed up late thinking off all the ways you messed up. How stupid you were, how better you life was with Kafka. How you would kill to spend even a minute longer with her.

Thankfully your work didn’t get you demoted, stabilizing after a couple of days and being written off as getting comfortable in your new position. A progression, but not for you. Every day you’d wake, robotically going through the motions. Taking a shower, eating breakfast, commuting to work, working, going home, eating dinner, and then stare at the wall. Sometimes you’d be able to break out of this spell, doing a little bit of exercise, watching a movie, but it all fell apart once your thoughts began to spiral. Kafka, you missed her, even if she broke up with you in the end, even a week longer would have been far better than this.

-

One day during your commute back home, you brushed someone’s shoulder. It wasn’t particularly busy, so it was embarrassing to have somehow ran into someone. Looking up, you began to apologize, “‘m sorry,” before your voice hitched. A charcoal gray coat hanging off a white dress shirt. Deep purple eyes stared back at you, a smile adorning a face you’d longed to see for weeks.

“Ahh, no worries. In fact, you’re just who I wanted to see.”

You began to be led out of the subway station, right as your train home arrived. It opened its doors, an exit. But did you want to take it? This was a chance to get back what you so brazenly threw away, even if for one last conversation. Even if she killed you tonight, deeming you a loose end that had to be taken care of.

You followed the Stellaron Hunter out, following the stairs upward, it all became a blur until you realized you were both seated in a fancy restaurant. The kind you’d have to book weeks in advance for.

“Kafka-” “You know, what you did wasn’t something you should do to a lady.”

She cut you off just as you began, you didn’t even know what you were going to say, maybe wanting to tell her to leave you alone, maybe to tell her to stay and to forgive you.

“I’m sorry…” “I want to know why exactly you did what you did.”

Lazily, she looked through the menu that had been prepared at the table, as if she wasn’t pushing you hard. Hell, you didn’t even know why you broke up with her without sounding like an idiot.

“I… I was scared.” She looked up at you, “But you’d known of my profession for a long time. Why then?” “Not that… it was the scripts you followed.”

Aeons, it felt like forcing the words out of your mouth, realizing how insane your words sounded with how far your mind jumped to conclusions.

“I was scared that you had only been with me to get to others. And that you’d… leave me after.”

There was a silence as you and her mulled over what you said. Nervously, you picked up the menu and read through some of the entries.

“If that was the problem-” You set your menu down quickly, “You should have just told me.”

“Huh?”

She chuckles, “Do you truly think I would have told you who I was if you were solely a pawn? None of the scripts given to me even spoke of me finding someone like you.”

Your throat was dry, tears welling up.

“I truly do love you. What you did really hurt me.”

“‘m sorry…”

Tears began to fall down your cheek, realizing that all this pain that the both of you felt for the past weeks was needless.

“It’s okay…”

She leaned forward, softly grasping at your hands to console and help ground you.

A server came, awkwardly cutting in in order to collect your orders.

“Don’t worry, it’s all on me tonight. I never got to treat you for your promotion.”

She ordered her food, with you following, regaining composure as you turned back to her.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice broke as you tried not to start crying again.

“It’s okay, I just hope you realize that I love you. Not for any plans, not for your connections, but for you.”

“I… I love you too. The past couple of weeks had been horrible…”

-

After a while of catching up, you dined, eventually a peaceful ground set between the two of you.

Stepping out into the chilly night, you shivered as the breeze came by. A warm coat covered your shoulders, with Kafka lending you hers to keep you warm.

“I’ll… be seeing you soon?”

“No, dear.”

Your heart felt like it stopped, as if she had stabbed you and twisted the knife.

“I’ll be coming home with you.”

You felt your legs almost give up on you as relief set in.

“Th-that was mean.”

“I apologize, just wanted to lighten the mood. Now, home?”

“Yeah!”

Kafka was happy that you both were finally back together, that smile she wore after seeing you after what felt like an eternity had been plastic at first, but melted away as the night passed. She had made a promise to herself to not use her Spirit Whisper to push you to come back with her, only getting Silver Wolf to “reserve” a spot for them and keep her out of any surveillance.

It was going to be back to normal…

-

Your house did need a lot of cleaning up though, being unkempt as it deteriorated along with your will during the time you were apart.

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯: 𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

Rating: T Pairing: Aether/Dew but also Aether/Everyone Word Count: 986 Featuring: Some angst and a bad dirty joke or two.

Also could count for "telling stupid jokes" which was the actual day 7 prompt because Dew is Dew and I couldn't resist.

Many thanks to the amazing @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together again. And to @ghuleh-recs for the divider which I am mildly obsessed with.

It’s worse than he thought.  He thought staying would be easy, but it’s clear the moment the buses pull away that it’s leaving that’s the easy part. Staying is agony. 

Aether knows he’s made the right choice. That Aeon is ready and the Ministry needs him here and that he and Sunny will be fine.But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. 

He watches the driveway until the dust settles, and then he turns his back, his pack out of sight, and walks back into the Abbey proper. Sunshine had already gone inside–a meeting with Imperator she said. But Aether thinks maybe she just wanted some time to herself–he doesn’t blame her. 

Aether keeps busy for the first couple weeks. Picks up extra shifts at the infirmary. He works most nights. The idea of climbing into an empty bed in the middle of the night makes his chest hurt–it’s easier to do it in the day time when he can imagine that the rest of his pack is going about their day–not gone. 

He talks to them on the phone every day. Dew video calls him from the bus after every show. Swiss texts him pictures of all of the weird snacks he buys. Cumulus sends him beautiful landscapes, and little I miss yous. They call call him–he speaks to at least one of them a day, usually more. 

The missing goes both ways. But they’re busy. He isn’t. Even with extra shifts, and begging Imperator for things to do–he even offers to help with taxes, which is a huge mistake, he still feels like he’s got too much time to think. 

He walks the grounds. Sits at the lake on warm summer days and thinks about how unfair it is that Rain is trapped on a bus and not here floating. He offers to help Sunshine take care of Mountain’s plants, but she waves him off. She’s been given very specific instructions, and one of them is to not let Aether anywhere near the greenhouse. 

He and Sunny cling to each other like a lifeline on harder nights. Especially once the rest of their pack has gone overseas and the timezones get more and more ridiculous to manage. They nap together, curled up in swatches of sunlight like cats. Aether wakes up warm, and comfortable, and loved and still feeling like one of his limbs has been removed. 

Dew calls him early one morning–before the sun is even up. It’s late wherever he is. Dark. Aether can barely see his face on the video call. Aether sits up in bed and rubs the sleep from his eyes. 

“Dew?” 

“Shit sorry, timezones. Forgot how early it is there. I can call later–”

“No,” Aether says quickly. Trying to force himself to look more awake. He turns on the light next to his bed. “No. No it’s fine. I’m up. Don’t go.” 

There must be something in his voice. A hitch. A tilt in pitch. Because Dew’s mouth pulls down just a little. A tiny frown of worry that Aether wishes he could reach through the screen and smooth away. 

“Not going anywhere, Starlight,” Dew promises. His bunk light switches on and Aether can see him better. Sitting up in the corner of his bunk. Phone resting on his knees. He’s eating chips from a bag that looks familiar. 

“Are you eating those weird chips Swiss got?” 

Dew nods. “I’m the only one who likes them. They’re good weird you know? You’d hate them.” 

Aether watches him chew and feels the ache start to ebb, just a little. The same way it always does when he gets one of his packmates to himself for a minute. When things feel unhurried and he can talk to them like they’re sitting next to him instead of a continent away. 

“Swiss said they tasted like ass.” 

“Probably why I like them,” Dew shrugs. Aether snorts. He smooths his hand over his face, dragging his fingers through the mess of his hair. 

“How many more weeks?” Aether asks, can’t help it. 

“Three,” Dew answers without hesitation. “Not that I’m counting.” 

“I am,” Aether admits. 

Dew frowns again, a little deeper. He looks at the screen a little too directly and Aether feels like he’s being seen in a way he isn’t ready for. 

“Yeah, Sunshine said you’ve been moping.”

“I haven’t been moping!”

Dew rolls his eyes. “Whatever. But just–you know we miss you too right? Like you’re not just stuck at home missing us while we have this grand adventure. It’s tour. It’s boring and humans are stupid and the food is awful. And it’s not the same without you.” 

“Isn’t Aeon doing–”

“Aeon’s fine. He’s good. He’s kicking ass every night but you know that isn’t what I mean. It isn’t all about the music you know.” 

Aether’s chest constricts. “I know.” 

“Nineteen days,” Dew says after a minute. He rolls the chip bag closed and for a minute that’s all Aether can hear, the ungodly crinkle of whatever magic material chip bags are made out of. “Less than three weeks.” 

“You are counting.” Aether teases. 

“Of course I’m counting,” Dew counters. “I’ve been counting since the day we left.” 

“You love touring.” 

“Yup,” Dew agrees, nodding. “I do. I still do. But I love you too, and just because I’m happy to be out here doesn’t mean I also don’t want to be there. I miss my bed. And being able to cook a meal that doesn’t come in a styrofoam cup. And you.” 

Aether feels his chest crack open, but this time it feels good. Warm. Like he really can reach out over all of these miles and slide his hand into Dew’s–just for a second. 

“You just miss me for my ass,” Aether teases. Awake now, and warm and loved despite his empty bed.  Dew laughs. “Well, I mean, it does taste better than those chips.”

[thesightstoshowyou]

🩸BLOODFEST🩸

Week 1

Prompts: Fire. Wound(s). Suburbs. Bondage

Keywords: Acrid. Malignant

Au Courant

(Part 1)

Asa Emory x AFAB Reader

Summary: Meeting your soulmate doesn’t quite go as you’d hoped.

Warnings: Soulmate AU, angst

~ Aeons ago, I answered this ask and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. So, here’s a fic ~

~~

Ding.

The automatic bell above the door chimes as you enter. The grocery store bustles with activity, people fresh from work hurrying to finish their shopping before returning to their sleepy suburbs. It’s barely-controlled chaos.

Retrieving a basket, you check the post-it note list in your pocket. Just a few things.

Aisle 3 first.

You’re slower than the rest as you scan the shelves, eyes unfocusing at random, the different brands of aluminum foil failing to hold your attention. Your mind is elsewhere.

Shelly found her soulmate today.

You knew the moment she walked into the office this morning. The sparkling eyes, the lovesick grin, they way she seemed to float with each step; it’s a look you’ve seen on others before. So, so many others.

Try as you might, you had not been able to avoid her for long. Pairs, as they’re called, could never keep it to themselves for long, seemingly intent on torturing you with their newfound wholeness.

They’d met on the train. She’d been running late and had to take a later line than usual. It was fate, she said. They never would have met otherwise.

Blah, blah, blah. You wanted to puke.

Everyone in your office had found their soulmate, one way or another. Everyone but you. Shelly was the last, the only coworker to whom you could relate. Now, you’re alone in more ways than one.

It would happen, they all told you. One day, your eyes would meet theirs and you would feel it: That spark, that final puzzle piece snapping into place, that pure feeling of absolute plenitude. It’s not something you could comprehend until you felt it, they said.

They’d meant to help, to give you hope, but their words only served to deepen the wounds of isolation. The malignant ache of loneliness festers a little more every year you go without meeting your other half. You’ve almost resigned yourself to a life of solitude.

It has been known to happen. Some unfortunate people go their whole lives without meeting their soulmate. It’s heart wrenching to see them out and about, a single, lonely figure in a sea of Pairs.

Would you be one of them?

Hastily, you shake your head, coming back to yourself and swallowing the acrid tang of self pity creeping up your throat. You slink to the next aisle over. A quick glance at your sticky note prompts you to retrieve a jar of pasta sauce. Bread is next.

You round the corner, eyes on your list. Bread, waffles, maybe you should get some ice cream—

You run headfirst into a solid chest, the impact so jarring you drop your basket. The glass jar of pasta sauce shatters, marinara splattering all over your shoes and the other’s scuffed boots. Strong hands seize your upper arms to keep you from toppling backward.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry—

The words die on your tongue when you meet the dark eyes of the man with whom you collided. His expression is one of cold fury. It chills you to the bone, freezes your soul, invokes a terror so deep in your mind you cannot draw breath. Then….

Click.

Your eyes widen. Fear dissipates instantly, replaced with unequivocal certainty. A spark ignites within you, warms your heart, sends a thrill racing up your spine.

It’s like that final puzzle piece snapping into place. No terror, only perfect completion.

Wholeness.

Now, you understand. Now, you see.

You stare in stunned silence at one another, his now shocked expression mirroring yours. A tremulous exhale spills from your lips. The grip on your arms tightens.

You take him in, as much as you can while keeping your gaze locked with his. He’s tall and broad-shouldered. “Powerful” is the first word that comes to mind. His strong jaw is peppered with stubble, the barest hints of gray flecking it and his brown hair. With your eyes, you trace the thin, white scars littering his face: One through his eyebrow, one through his lips, more slashed across his cheek and the bridge of his nose. His eyes…. His eyes are so dark—black?—and they glitter like beetle’s wings.

You inhale, part your lips to say something, to break the tense silence, but then his expression changes. His brows furrow, his lips press into a thin line. The cold scowl returns.

He releases your arms like you’ve burned him. Stepping away from you, he spins on his heel and quickly strides away. Incredulous, you watch the back of his jean jacket as he retreats, acutely aware of the knowing looks your exchange has garnered.

“Hey! Hey, wait!” you call, slipping a little in pasta sauce as you hurry after him. You pass a disgruntled employee and murmur an apology, you’ll help clean it up, you promise, you just need one moment….

The door chimes again as the man—your soulmate—all but flees to the parking lot. You pursue, half-jogging to catch up

“Stop! Please, why are you—

He turns to face you so fast you barely register what’s happening. A palm returns to your upper arm, another wrapping around your throat as he seizes you, spins, and shoves you up against the nearest vehicle. The noisy thud as your back collides with steel disturbs the muted hustle of post-work suburbia.

You gasp, equal parts shocked and impressed by the show of speed. You’re bewildered by your feelings, heart thudding in your chest, face hot. He just slammed you into a car and you’re blushing for chirst’s sake.

His own expression is pinched, strained. His voice, so pleasantly deep and rough, is terse as he speaks through his teeth, “You do not want to go down this road with me.”

You blink, your frenzied mind racing to process his words. “I…yes, I do. You’re—

“Forget this happened. Forget. It.” You flinch like he cut you, his words stinging like alcohol in a wound. You shake your head.

“…How?” you whisper. Your eyes burn. There’s no way you could ever, ever forget him now, not in any sense of the word. You’re connected on the deepest level, your very souls entwined. How could he say something like this? How could he want this? Does he not feel this bond like you do?

His jaw clenches. He pushes you away, not hard enough to make you fall, but firmly enough to make a point. Keys jingle as he retrieves them from his pocket. They rattle against the truck door—the one he’d pushed you against—until the lock clicks. He doesn’t look back as he slides into the driver’s seat, slams the door. The engine roars to life.

You watch, frozen to the spot, adrenaline and distress thrumming under your skin as the vehicle pulls away. It ambles through the parking lot, makes a left turn onto the street, disappears into traffic.

Your eyes burn.

Slowly, like your arm weighs a ton, you reach up to touch your cheek. It’s wet. You’re crying, you realize.

A new wound opens up, settles into your chest next to the loneliness:

Heartbreak.

[anonymouslymadebydesign]

im having an awful day at work so how about some aeon/phantom angst i thought about during my shift

something something classics aeon being summoned and clicking with Aurora instantly since she's also a new summon. the rest of the pack trying to warm up to aeon but they're still grieving the loss of aether and even call him the wrong name nearly to a point where aeon resents his own name.

something something aeon fleeing the pack the instant the tour is over but staying within the Abbey cause he has no idea where else he'd go. the idea of keeping a glamour up and pretending to be human 24/7 if he DID run away makes his stomach curl so he stays.

somethinnnnnnn aeon hiding in the kitchen of the Abbey and the Siblings of Sin take him in, let him stay because they realize "hey this kid is really helpful". the siblings of sin adopting him into their group and teaching him how to cook. Aeon seamlessly fitting into their group to a point where he even considers them his primary pack instead of the band.

Aeon who's comforted by his new friends/family when he tells them about how it was like being on tour. Not even the band itself but how he felt like an outcast and how it hurt to hear his band mates address him as "aeth- sorry, aeon."

One of the siblings who primarily work in the kitchens is the one to suggest "Phantom" instead because the little quint moves so quietly and stealthily that he's like a little ghost, like a phantom. He adores this idea and latches onto it. From that point forward they call him Phantom.

The pack doesn't even notice at first, the first few days, a week even, after returning everyone's just so happy to see their old pack mates and be back home that no one notices Aeons missing.

Aethers the one to ask how the new quint has been holding up and where he's gone off too. Everyone's kinda vague in their answers, not giving anything satisfactory. Aurora is the one to chime in with "he's holed himself up in his room and hasn't come out."

Aether who decides to go the quints room only to find it empty, bed made and everything, all traces of the quint scrubbed clean, like he never existed.

Aether who tells the pack that he's not in his room and forcing everyone to tell him what caused it. Tell him why he's run away. TELL HIM WHY the newest member who was entrusted in their care felt the need to slip away wordlessly.

Phantom who's so integrated into the kitchen staff/pack that when the band eventually finds him, he even SMELLS different. The mere sight of his old pack causes him to reek of disparity and panic and confusion.

Phantom who's being shielded by humans and ghouls alike, cowering behind the wall of safety, clearly holding onto a fire ghoul for dear life.

Aether watching this whole scene unfold as he finds the young quint ghoul and can only call out his name, frightened at what he sees, not understanding this reaction.

Aether turning to his own pack with a mixture of disappointment , disbelief, and above all else, anger. Aether looking at them all and asking

"What have you done to him?"