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#also soulmate with a twist

da-birb-writes-sometimes · 10 months

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Of Truths and Dreams; Lilia Vanrouge

Dreams can tell a lot about a person. Their wants, their fears. But sometimes they can tell you the truth, and sometimes it isn't pretty.

Supporting Characters; Baul (for a second), Sebek Zigvolt

Content; Soulmate AU (I call them soul matches), gender neutral reader, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic, Chapter 7 spoilers, hurt/comfort, some General Vanrouge

Content Warning; Chapter 7 spoilers, war, death (talk, I don't describe it), angst? (idk man)

Word Count; 5.5 K

Don't put my works into AI, as AI steals in order to "create".

Sebek's Story | Malleus's Story

The Thorn Fairy had gifted a blessing to the fae, a blessing of soul matches.

A connection forged between two souls. Such a connection is rare, and different variations do occur; primarily in beastmen and merfolk. Each clan had their unique soul match bonds. And the fae were no different. However, their history was not written down on paper, or carved into the corals. The information and history of fae soul matches was an oral history, passed down from generation to generation through hushed tones.

To outsiders, they shrugged it off as just another odd behaviour of the clan, but the fae had good reason to be wary. In the past, the knowledge of fae soul matches was shared with an outsider, and because of that blunder of misplaced trust, the royal family was targeted. But that was many a queen’s reign ago. But the fae do not forget such transgressions, no; that story, that history, is used as a warning. Tell no one but whom you would trust your life with any information regarding your soul match, lest it be used against you. No one outside of the fae, save for their soul match, is to know of this most treasured bond.

Despite the secretiveness of fae soul matches, they were celebrated once they manifested themselves, as they were a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. There is a catch though; due to their long life spans, it can take years, decades, or even centuries in the very rare and unfortunate cases, for the bond between soul match partners to manifest itself. The only thing more unfortunate than it taking centuries is if their soul match were human… for a human lifespan is only a fraction that of even the more short-lived fae clans. It was seen as a tragedy, a doomed pairing from the beginning, with a heartbroken fae as the only possible answer. Such pairings were pitied, and seen as bad luck.

But what does the bond between soul matches take the form of within the fae? What does the Thorn Fairy’s blessing of soul matches look like?

There are many speculations on that. Many scholars say it is a mark on the body; a mole, or three scratches. But that is not correct. It is not a shared song, a stone messenger, or a coloured thread on their finger. And there is a written record of the bond as well; one just has to dig deep into the records, scrolls, and tomes that exist within the library of the former castle of the Draconia’s.

It is also a melody, a hum on the lips of many fae if by chance you are able to hear it. I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. The soul match bonds between the fae and their match took the form of shared dreams, tinted the colour of their soul. They cannot truly see the other, or speak to each other, but the gleam in their eyes is one that will stay in their mind, as it is so familiar a gleam.

…

Rest is a luxury, a luxury that Lilia could not spare. The war would not wait for the general to be well rested, or wait for him to have a nap. No, it would continue until it either ended with one side coming out the victor, or it would end with peace negotiations. Rest can wait. But the fae in his company were sleeping, and he was on the first watch.

But there was something else which made him avoid resting; his dreams. His dreams were black and white, devoid of any colour, and he was always alone in them. Yes, there may be other people, but they didn’t interact. His soul match was nowhere to be seen. Three hundred years and there has been absolutely nothing.

He wasn’t alone on watch duty though, Baul was beside him, staring out into the dark.

“You need to rest,” he huffed, shooting a look towards Lilia from the corner of his eye.

Lilia quirked a brow, but his gaze did not waver from the darkness of the forest. There was something out there, waiting. “I can rest when this is over.” His voice was cold, sharp, like that of a blade. “I cannot rest while a war is still being fought on our lands.”

Baul pushed his shoulders back and turned his eyes back to the darkness of the forest. “General, if you do not rest, it will eventually catch up to you. Whether you like it or not.”

He was right, if Lilia did sleep, it would eventually catch up with him in the worst possible moment. The last thing that he needed was to fall into a microsleep in the middle of battle. Thirty seconds of vulnerability in the heat of conflict could spell the very end for him. He let out a tired sigh, “I suppose you are right. When our shift is over I can rest.”

After an uneventful night watch, save for the crack of a stick in the distance — which turned out to be nothing more than just a deer passing through — Lilia turned in for the night in his tent. He stared up to the ceiling, and tried to fall asleep, but the harder he tried the more difficult it became, but eventually exhaustion won over frustration and Lilia fell asleep.

His dream was black and white, as always. They have been devoid of colour for the past three hundred years, so why would they be any different now?

He was a child again, playing in a flower meadow with Malenoa and Levan. Well, Malenoa was playing whereas Levan had been dragged along against his will. And Lilia? Well, wherever the crown princess went, he followed; part of it being that they were friends, the other being that he was raised alongside her and swore to protect her.

“Lilia! Come on,” Malenoa shouted from across the glen, a big smile on her face. “Last one to the thicket is a rotten egg!” And she took off, dragging Levan behind her, the young boy letting out an undignified squawk.

Lilia gave chase, a peel of laughter escaping his lips. “That’s not fair! You got a head’s start!” He eventually caught up to the two royals at the large rose thicket on the outskirts of the meadow. “I guess I’m the rotten egg,” he huffed before sitting down next to a dishevelled looking Levan.

He didn’t really understand why the Thorn Fairy had bonded them together, Malenoa and Levan couldn’t be more opposite of each other. But soul matches do work in mysterious ways… But Lilia wondered when the Thorn Fairy would place that blessing onto him. He had spent, and would spend, his life serving the royal family after the queen had taken him in, so why didn’t the first of the royal bloodline deem him worthy?

Malenoa was looking at the roses until she found one that she liked. She plucked it from the stem, whispered a quiet thank you to the briar patch, and then placed it behind Lilia’s ear. A baby pink rose, but he could not see the colour of the flower, only that it was pale. A stark contrast against Lilia’s jet black hair.

“What’s that for,” he asked but did not dare remove the flower. He should have been used to Malenoa’s antics by now, but she still caught him off guard despite their time spent together.

Malenoa hummed, “Pink suits you, plus since you were the rotten egg, you stunk so badly that you needed the rose to cover up the smell.” She stuck out her tongue and pinched her nose with her fingers, giggling. “A stinky, stinky egg! Right, Levan?”

Levan looked tired, but he nodded his head. “Unfortunately it seems so.” He coughed, trying to cover up the chortle that nearly escaped his lips.

The easy nature of the dream shifted, the briars from the rose thicket separating Lilia from Malenoa and Levan. The thicket then caught on fire, smoking out the dream (the memory?) in a thick, dark, smoke.

Lilia woke with a start, and placed his hand over his heart. It was beating fast, and he was covered in sweat. He then heard a commotion coming from outside, and it wasn’t the usual squabbling he heard as people tried to barter over the best breakfast options.

He strided out into the camp, and he didn’t make it very far until one of the soldiers came clamouring over to him, tripping over their feet in the process.

“G-general!” They heaved, looking pale. “N-news! From the front lines!” They handed him a scroll before taking back off to their tent.

Lilia opened the scroll and his eyes froze, pupils contracting into harsh slits. The parchment crumpled in his tight fist, but he regained his composure. They had a war to end, but Lilia’s mission had shifted from that of victory for country. It had shifted to justice; to serve justice to the murders of Malenoa. For his friend, his family, for Levan, and for her unhatched egg; the hope, and now only future, for the Draconias.

…

Another four hundred years had passed, and Lilia’s dreams were still black and white. And where he may have had been bitter in his younger years, he no longer held that resentment. Yes, he still questioned why he had not received a soul match, but he had accepted that it was simply not to be. Besides, he now had more meaning in his life. He had been many things in his life; a friend, a soldier, an advisor, and now, a father. The silver haired baby that he had found years ago, Silver, was everything Lilia could ever really ask for. He loved Malleus, but not to the same degree as Silver; Malleus was the heir to the throne above all else.

Lilia was content with how things currently were, happy even. He had found his purpose.

“Hmm, this school year should prove interesting,” he hummed to himself. The ceremony was today, and it proved to be a most interesting one at that. He did wonder what the newcomer, the one not suitable to any dorm, would do. They didn’t seem like the type to just leave things alone. He shook his head though, and made himself comfortable in his bed, turning in for the night.

He was in the meadow of his youth again, but it was now overgrown. The vines from the rose thicket choking out all of the other flowers and grasses. And all but one rose was withered away. And this single rose was pink. Lilia could see colour, and the pink bled into the rest of the dream, casting everything in a rose-tinted light.

After seven hundred years, the Thorn Fairy had finally answered his call. And everything was pink. “After all this time, now you have decided they can enter my life,” he whispered, looking directly at the rose.

If he were younger, he would have been overjoyed, but Lilia knew that he did not have the commodity of time at his side. Despite the fae’s long lifespan, he was old, and his magic reservoir was running low. And the bitterness that he had since forgotten reappeared. “Why would you put them through this?”

He turned on his heel, but stopped. At the edge of the meadow was his soul match, he could not make out their face, appearance, nor their voice, but he knew it was them. “You should leave.” His words were not spoken, but were instead written in the air in glowing pink letters. But instead of turning around and leaving, they took a step forward, and then another, before coming to rest in front of Lilia.

“Who are you,” their words were written in pink letters, just like his. And even though he could not see their face, he could distinctly tell they wore an expression of confusion. “And why is everything pink?”

Lilia woke up to the sounds of his alarm going off, ripping him out of the dream. Why is everything pink? His soul match didn’t know what the colour ment, which could only mean one thing; his match was not fae. His soul match was mortal. And that revelation made a lump form in his throat.

He was worried about his soul match outliving him, that the possibility that he would outlive them never crossed his mind. Why had the Thorn Fairy chosen them? Why did she gift him an ending that would end in heartbreak?

…

Ever since finding yourself in Twisted Wonderland you started keeping a dream journal. Alongside the weird, and sometimes downright disturbing, dreams about future overblots, you had rose-tinted ones with a stranger in them. But they kept their distance. And you hadn’t found any answers for them.

“Human!” The sharp shout from Sebek tore you away from your thoughts, as the first-year student was incredibly… loud. “Do you know how rude it is to ignore somebody when they are talking?! Did you not sleep last night?!”

In the few months that you’ve been stuck here, you came to call the abrasive Diasomnia student a reluctant friend. He may be prickly, but it was his own way of showing that he cared… in his own roundabout way which usually involved yelling and non-intentional insults.

Did you not sleep last night?! Yes, but it was anything but restful.

You were in the midst of a battlefield, which was now long over. The only evidence being the hollow armour of warriors long fallen. And, as in all of your dreams, there were roses everywhere. Their thorny vines creating a wall, trapping you and the pink stranger in together.

This wasn’t your dream, it was their’s… or more like a memory? It was all way too centred in reality, in mourning and loss, to be a dream. What did they live through?

“What happened here?” Your words floated gently in the air and only disappeared when the stranger noticed them.

They picked up a broken spear and held it gently in their grasp. “What do you think? War. War is what happened here.” Their words floated in front of you, and you could see the weight of them on their shoulders. “The dreams of many died here, the only thing remaining of them being the armour that was supposed to protect them.”

What the hell have they lived through? “... were you there?”

The dream shifted, no longer were you standing on a long forgotten battlefield, now reclaimed by nature, but you were now sitting in a dark castle. Not even the pink hue over everything could brighten it.

The stranger went up the stairs. Go away, can you not tell I am not the best person for you? Our story will only end in hurt. But they said none of that, continuing to go up the long winding staircase. “Did you hear me? I asked you if you were there!” You yelled after them, following them up the spiralling staircase until the both of you came to a halt in front of a large wooden door, scorched at the bottom.

“Yes,” the words floated in your face before fading away. “I was there… I led the battle. I led them to death.”

I led them to death. You were sweating buckets, but before you knew what you were doing you wrote down a note in your dream journal

Roses. Thorns. Battle. Magic. War. You had no real idea what it all meant, but it was somewhere to start. A step in the direction of figuring what it all meant

“No,” you said, avoiding Sebek’s concerned gaze, “I didn’t sleep well… not at all.” You hadn’t slept soundly in weeks. You hadn’t had a pleasant dream since you woke up here. “Nightmares,” you whispered, “night after night. And a stranger, the same stranger, who is avoiding me.”

Sebek’s face paled, and he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Human,” his voice was now quiet, guarded. He led you to a classroom and made sure no one was around. “Are these dreams a certain colour? Do words float in the air? Can you not make out their face?” Even though this was the quietest that he has spoken, it was also the most serious Sebek had been with you.

You nodded your head, “All of that, yes. How did you know?” Your brows pinched, and you let out a deep sigh. “Sebek, if you know something, please, just tell me.”

Sebek was fighting a war in his head; tell the truth to you, or keep the fae soul match a secret. But the dark bags under your eyes told him enough. “You have a soul match, and they are fae. I’m… sorry.”

The bell rang and he was off to his next class, leaving you alone with this world altering information. I have a soul match? They’re fae? … why did he look so sad for me?

…

Lilia noticed something off about Sebek the moment he walked, or rather stormed, to the confines of his room. So, he followed, gently knocking at the door, waiting for an answer.

“May I come in?”

He heard Sebek scramble up and open the door. “Of course, Lilia-sama!” He was just like his grandfather; loud, a bit too stiff for his own good, but loyal, almost to a fault.

Lilia walked over to the bed, and patted the spot beside him. “Come, sit. You seem to be carrying quite the burden.” He had noticed Sebek’s odd behaviour all day, and it wasn’t like him to do so. “Come now, out with it.”

Sebek picked at a loose thread on his bedding, and massaged his temple. “It’s about soul matches.”

Lilia felt the lump in his throat form again. “What about them? They are a blessing from the Thorn Fairy herself. Who are we to question her decision-”

“A human disclosed that they have a soul match, a fae soul match. And I told them that. I broke the oath to not tell anyone!” Sebek clenched his fists and looked down at the floor. “They aren’t even my soul match, and I told them!”

Lilia placed his hand on Sebek’s back, and started patting him on the back. A gesture that meant everything was going to be okay. “Well,” a breathy chuckle escaped his lips, a soft smile on his face, “they deserve to know what is ahead of them, do they not?”

Like I have been trying to tell mine, but they still have not left it alone. They keep on showing up, night after night.

Sebek seemed to calm down, but there was still a lot weighing heavy in his mind. “It’s not my place to talk. It is for them, and their match to decide. But,” he took a deep breath, and that familiar intensity in his eyes was back, “I can’t help but worry.”

Lilia recognized the look in his pseudo-adopted son’s eyes, it all too well reflected the look Baul would get before battle. And this was Sebek, concerned for a human, which would only mean one thing; whoever they were, they were a friend of his. And that narrowed everything down. Time to do some sleuthing of my own. “They’re strong, most likely stubborn. They shall be fine,” his voice was light, trying to brighten the atmosphere of the room. “It’s late, you should really get some rest.”

With that, Lilia walked out of the room and softly closed the door. There was something that he needed to do tonight, in his dream.

…

This dream was different from all the others. There were no signs of the thorny brambles of roses. There were no signs of war. No, instead Lilia found himself in the courtyard of Night Raven College, the sun high overhead and a slight breeze playing with loose leaves. This wasn’t his dream; it was his soul match’s. And you were sitting under a tree, looking up at the sky, just watching the clouds pass by.

“This is a nice change of pace,” the pink words drifted slowly in the wind. “Better than nightmares and bad memories.”

Lilia felt a twinge of guilt. Better than nightmares and bad memories. Those were his doing. And instead of him being subjected to your nightmares and memories that you would rather forget, the both of them were here, in a quiet moment in time. There was no war, there was no loss. There was only you and Lilia, and an easy feeling. “You are too kind,” he sighed. Thank you. That is what he meant.

You hummed, “I can’t control my dreams, so it’s really just a fluke.” You sighed and rested your head against the tree, closing your eyes and enjoying the filtered sunlight. “I’m just happy it’s a pleasant one.”

“As am I,” he took a seat next to you and looked up to the sky, watching the clouds aimlessly pass by. I need to tell them. “It is cruel, what the Thorn Fairy has done to you. Gifting you a fae soul match.”

You turned your head towards him. Even though you couldn’t truly see who they were, you could see that they carried a lot on their shoulders. You didn’t say anything though, but instead offered your silence as an indicator for him to continue.

“How much do you know about soul matches?” It is their and their soul match’s decision. He wanted to tell them everything, so that they could decide for themself if they wanted him in their life.

You sighed. So now they decide to tell me? “Pretty much nothin’. Just the basics; soul matches exist, which I can kinda infer what it means, they’re gifted by the Thorn Fairy, and you’re fae. I have found absolutely nothing that even talks about the subject, and nobody but my one friend has mentioned it.”

Nobody but my one friend has mentioned it. Were they friends with Sebek? That would narrow down everything drastically, and would also explain why they were relaxing at Night Raven College in their dream. Lilia knew them. They were already closer than he ever thought.

“So, please,” you turned to look at the stranger, your soul match, eyes gleaming gently. “Tell me, tell me everything.”

So he did, he and you sat under the tree for the entirety of the dream, discussing what soul matches were, the different forms and bonds they come in, and what you could expect from this.

I know you, that look in your eye is so familiar a gleam.

…

Ever since that dream from a few days ago, you have noticed your soul match get more playful and teasing in your dreams. They no longer held you at a distance, it was a drastic but welcomed change. The cold was gone, and instead there was warmth. But something still felt off. With everything that has happened, with seeing each other's dreams and memories, you still didn’t know who they were. And everytime you tried to tell them your name, the words didn’t form. It was annoying.

“Something on your mind, Prefect,” a familiar teasing voice chuckled from behind you. Lilia shot you a teasing smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. He used to startle you whenever he decided to sneak up on you, but you grew accustomed to his playful nature.

You shot him a look, but then shook your head and chuckled. “Just thinking is all. What about you?” You had noticed that Lilia had gotten more lively, the dark cloud that seemed to hang around him for the past few weeks had seemed to vanish. “You seem to be in a more chipper mood,” you chuckled.

He gave you a quiet chortle, the only real evidence of it being the subtle movement of his shoulders and the quiet exhale from his lips. His magenta eyes gleamed softly in the dim lighting of the hallway. They were familiar, but you could have sworn that you had seen them somewhere before, but the answer was avoiding you.

“Just a lot has happened is all, and it brought a surprise with it.” Lilia was cryptic, but it was a part of his odd charm. A mix of something old beyond your years, and a more youthful impishness. It was endearing.

He reminded you of somebody, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. “Fine then, old man, keep your secrets. One day I’ll make you spill.”

The two of you exploded with laughter, and Lilia patted you on the shoulder. “Maybe someday. I’ll be looking forward to it, Prefect.” He waved you goodbye as he made his way to his next class. Leaving you alone in the hallway.

You hummed to yourself as you made your way to your next class, History of Magic, where Trein was preparing on his lecture to tell the first years about the fae-human wars. Something that you had already witnessed the aftermath of, despite not knowing it at the time. After all, that’s what that one dream was about; the one of the meadow, the rose briars, and the rusting armour laying half buried in the earth. But you didn’t know the true horrors of war, and your soul match made sure that you would never have to witness what he had.

…

You were back in the meadow, in the middle of the fray. No longer were the rusted armours and broken weapons half buried, their wielders were alive again, and you were caught in the middle of it. The sky was an angry shade of pink, and thunder rumbled ominous in the distance… nope that was cannon fire.

Everything was absolute chaos, and you were thankful that nothing could harm you in the dreams, but that didn’t make you flinch any less whenever a ghost arrow flied through the air. Or maybe it would be more accurate to call you the ghost. You weren’t going to dwell on that though, since you didn’t want to push your luck. Something you seemed to be in short supply of.

You saw a flash in front of you, and a bat-masked figure was in front of you, glowing red eyes staring at you, before running back into the battle. Even though this was a dream, you could have sworn that they saw you. And then you were ripped away from the battle ground, being pulled up by your underarms. Looking up you saw the fuzzy and distorted visage of your soul match, pulling you away from danger.

“What were you doing?!” They snapped at you. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could infer their tone and emotion from their body language and you know, hauling your ass away from danger.

You patted their forearm, and looked back down to the flashes of magic and metal gleaming in the waning light of the setting sun. “Were you here? This is more than a dream, isn’t it? This is a memory.”

Dreams are often a flight of fancy, but for Lilia, and for you, they were more than randomly concocted scenarios played out by the sleeping mind. These dreams held truth, the dreams were memories. And this memory showed the most impactful one.

“How many?”

That statement could mean so many things. It could mean how many battles. How many lives were lost. How many lives had he taken. “Too many to count,” is what he decided on saying. It was true though, Lilia had lost count of how many times he had done all of those things. “You must think of me as cruel,” a sad yet harsh laugh left his mouth, and he looked down at you. “A monster.”

You looked back. There was sadness in your match’s eyes, but also a tiredness. “I don’t think you’re a monster, or cruel though.”

Lilia looked into your eyes. You were being honest, sincere, and your eyes showed that. They were the only part of you that he could clearly make out. They were familiar, they were warm. “I am down there though, leading the assault… against the humans.” Against you.

“The past is the past. What is done, is done. We can’t change that.” Leading the assault… didn’t Professor Trein talk about the wars today? “I won’t judge you based on your past, especially if you’re super old which I know pretty well that your are, gramps. But you can’t change it. It has left its scars, but what matters most is the present and what lies ahead.”

You were right, and Lilia felt foolish to let that small part of himself, the insecurity of not being wanted, fester. “I’m the old one? You sound far more wiser than your years… you whippersnapper.”

The battle faded away, and the two of you floated down to the meadow. It had morphed, morphed back into the meadow of Lilia’s youth; filled with wildflowers, grasses, and the rose thicket was in full bloom. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the laughter of a young girl in the breeze as a raven flew overhead.

…

Lilia needed to find you. Your dreams were filled with premonitions, and they sat heavy in his mind at the repercussions they could make. They sent off alarm bells in his mind. Lilia was in a tizzy. I have to find them.

His magic was running out, and he knew that his lifespan had shortened drastically. He would be lucky to live another sixty or seventy years, which was nothing in the eyes of many fae. But that was a human lifetime. A lifetime that could be spent with not just Silver and Sebek, but you. He wanted to find you. He didn’t care what form your soul match bond took; be it like the relationship of family, of friends, or of lovers. He wanted to find you, needed to find you.

I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. Those eyes, they were the only part of you that he could ever make out. Eyes filled with mischief, responsibility, curiosity, and kindness. He knew those eyes. They were your eyes, the Ramshackle Prefect’s eyes. How could I be so blind?

It made all too much sense. The dreams had only started when you showed up. He felt drawn to you, like a moth to flame. It made sense that you would be the human that had made Sebek drop his guard and tell a human about fae soul matches. It made all of the sense in the world. And it had taken until now for him to realise. Perhaps he really was an ‘old man’ and already going senile like you joked, both in and out of the dreams.

That is how he came to find himself at your front door, in the middle of the night, still wearing his hot pink and neon green pyjamas. All because of the one dream, the most recent dream of overblot, and his own realisation of who you truly were. So he knocked three times, and waited for you to come down.

You groaned awake, the faint memory of the dream still weighing heavy on your mind. I can never catch a break, huh? I swear if it’s Ace I’m going to drop kick him. You begrudgingly made your way to the front door, and opened it right as a yawn escaped your mouth. “Lilia?”

What was Lilia doing at your front door? It was like two in the morning… although his bat print pyjamas were pretty great. Was that ‘Bat-tastic’ written in swirly font? Where in Twisted Wonderland had he found that?

“What are you doing here?” Was what you said instead.

“Do you recognize me,” he whispered, taking your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Recognize you? “Your Lilia, of course I recognize you, old man.”

He looked at you, magenta eyes practically glowing in the dark. Familiar magenta eyes. Eyes that held such familiar a gleam… as if you had seen them countless times in your dreams, tinted a paler shade of the colour. “Prefect, have we met before? I could have sworn that I met you… once upon a dream?”

It all made sense. It all made sense. The coldness at first, the memories of war, the playfulness. Why everything was pink. Your match, the perceived stranger, was no stranger at all. They were Lilia.

“So you’re them,” you said softly. “We’re soul matches?”

He shot you a playful wink, “It would seem so. And I’m happy that you are them, and they, you.”

All of those centuries spent alone, wondering why the Thorn Fairy had not granted him the blessing of having a soul match, and then the confusion of finally receiving one after years of nothing, now had an answer. It was you, and Lilia knew that the seven hundred years may have been lonely, but whatever time he had left, he would be more than happy to spend with you.

Fin!

Author's Note; Enjoy this word vomit. If you want to read more, do check out my masterlist.

Tags; @xxoomiii @eynnwwyjth @twistwonderlanddevotee @savanaclaw1996 @identity-theft-101

#twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x gn reader #general vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #twst soulmate au #i had to stop myself from making reader say “cowabummer dude” to lilia #chapter 7 spoilers #wanted to try and explore different parts of lilia #also i want that bat-tastic shirt i know his ass would own one #always nervous posting diasomnia content since uhhhhhh ovo; y'all scare me #enjoy your gilf though #started august 5 ended august 9 2023 #putting my start and end dates in the tags for my own uses #sebek is next and his story SHOULD be more humorous and fluffy #should being the key word; idk what my brain is going to come up with yet #idc if it's overused; i am using the shared dream trope and running with it #if you see grammar mistakes shhhh; no you don't #soul match au #*folds my hands and judges engagement* this decides your future #idk what compelled me to include sebek in this but i did #the series is almost done YIPPEE!!!!

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disco-tic-wonderland · 1 year

Text

Has anyone made a fic

where when exposed to pale, Kim meets an old version of himself, like 90.

“Well there’s a fine young man,” he says kindly, a spark of mischief in his dark eyes that’s decades younger.

Old Kim is completely unbothered by current Kim’s presence, takes it in stride to see a ghost of the past standing in his living room. But aside from the time travel, young Kim is dumbfounded at how they’d lived so long.

“70 was our goal, wasn’t it?” Kim accepts the offered tea. “Not bad.”

Turns out that Harry lived almost as long. Kim is shocked (on his liver??), then of course saddened at the thought that he ends up alone, sitting on a garish couch that has Harrier’s unique taste written all over it.

Old Kim waves him off with a chuckle. “Alone? I rarely get peace. The kids visit every day, now, and grandkids every weekend.“

Kim’s breath catches in his throat. It’s…more than he’s ever dared to dream.

“Besides. Harry’s around here someplace, I’m sure.”

Oh. Well maybe he isn’t as sharp as first perceived.

Old Kim smiles conspiratorially. “He isn’t moving on without me. We hardly spent a day apart for 45 years. When it’s time, he insists we go together.” Shakes his head. “Most stubborn man in the world.” He says it with the utmost fondness.

This doesn’t line up with Kim’s view of reality, but he can see the other is serious…and content. “Is this all a hallucination?”

The older man breaks into a brilliant smile, a map of wrinkles on a lovingly weathered face. “The world is stranger and more wondrous than you know, Kim. And you are going to be happy.”

#kim kitsuragi #kimharry #de ficlets #character death #but like in a cool way where it’s natural causes and also they’re a ghost waiting to walk into the afterlife #hand in lovable hand with their soulmate #what if plot twist the men who expect to die because of a bleak apocalyptic world get a happy ending instead #what if the gays lived happily ever after what then huh

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fatherramiro · 5 months

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my best (and one of my only finished tbh) multi-chapter fic was a fic i posted the first chapter of on new year's eve so tomorrow is when im going to actually post the first chapter of my wyllstarion fic. for tradition's sake.

#at the present time the outline is nine chapters and an epilogue sooooo #it is also from wyll's pov because i wanted to have some fun with exploring what could lead to him falling in love with astarion #when astarion is the polar opposite of anyone who wyll thought he'd spend his life with #anyways hopefully the basic concept (soulmate AU but with a twist!) works for folks

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ge · 7 months

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if u had to pick a cm ship that isnt tangchung what would it be?

scratches ass ummm tbh i dont really gaf about any chung myung ship that isnt tangchung but i guess i can see the appeal of chung myung and jang ilsos whole fucked up toxic situation..not necessarily in a shippy way but more like they hate each other so much it circles back to sexual tension or something

#jang ilsos a freak so i imagine him only having a twisted carnal obsession for cm & cm not giving a shit about him except as an outlet #to meee tangchung r soulmates and chung myung is forever a widower after tang bos death #but i can also see cm using someone casually and selfishly to blow off some steam..probably as another form of self harm

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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 2 months

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HIII DUDE good afternoon how r u how's the tokyo ghoul rewatch going!! i would. Love 2 hear ur ghostkicks and/or tg thoughts literally at any given time. taking ur joke tags absolutely dead serious because im trying 2 figure out How To Write Them currebtly & we're doin a bit of wrangling in the google doc 😭.

u know i have the brainrot so so so badly because im on episode 3 of tg and all i can think is "i can make a pd au out of this" so im feeling rlly normal abt it basically. im blaming it on unravel.

ANYWAY. ANYWAY. ANYWAY. YEAH. HI. GHOSTKICKS. they are soooooo. tired depressed introvert gets adopted by a loud bubbly extrovert trope. at least on the surface. like how they behave at school in season 1. thinkin abt jimmy going "what is UP with bro behind u" and william just ominously lurking there. and how dakota defends him later !!!!!!!! idk how much of this youve gotten to yet bc i dont remember when it actually comes up in canon bc its such an ingrained part of his character but dakota is soooooo. guard dog coded. this hits especially hard in the "what if pd were villains" oneshot but its sooooo prevalent in canon too.

they both hold each other in the highest respect. william sees dakota as the prime (ha) example of what a hero should be. hes brave hes kind he does his best to protect everyone no matter what. hes all the things that william Isnt. BUT !!!! dakota also looks up to him !!! hes so smart hes good at problem solving hes so curious about everything and asking questions and poking his nose into things that nobody else would even consider. dakota knows hes not smart so he automatically looks to william whenever he needs a plan or someone to tell him what to do when he feels lost. they complement each other and they dont even !!!!! know it !!!!!!!

also regarding williams powers. fuck dude. season 1 he was so fucking scared of himself and ashamed of the things he could do . he hid every time he had to use wisp form !!! but dakota always thought it was so cool and was not QUIET about it. boy went fucking STAR EYES the first time he saw wisp form !!!!!! i will never stop thinking abt the first rolled for season 2 where charlie goes "if dakota hadnt left, he probably wouldve been able to convince william to keep using his powers and not to completely disregard their existence like he has been" and . considering what william is like in season 2... god this wouldve been a COMPLETELY different fucking campaign. theyre so. incredibly soulmates to me. theyre so important to each other theyd do anything for each other. i cant say too much more without accidentally giving you spoilers bc i WILL keep talking and not be able to shut up but GOD fuck ghostkicks enjoyers eat so well in the latter half of s2. moirails. 2 me !!!!!!!

#anyway pd tg au: will as kaneki dakota as hide vyncent as touka .#tempted to say tide is yoshimura but for some reason i vaguely remember him being fucked up evil. dont know if thats actually true or not.#also trying 2 decide whether mal or kimuri would fit better as rize. not the exact character but like the.#oh youre being haunted by this guys soul. actually probably kimuri is better but hes not like. Evil yknow.#i will likely regret saying all of this once i get 2 later episodes. if i stick with watching this idk if i will or not lmao #but i remember none of the overarching plot of tg so im going solely on the characters up to ep 3.#anyway im not ever going to do anything with this but this is a fun little peek into my twisted cycle path mind #this is how i enjoy media when im obsessed w something else #THANK U FOR THE BEAFT. WHAT A LOVELY SHRIMP YOU HAVE #aauagahagahghhhhh. ros i cannot wait for u to have the ghostkicks knowledge i have. g #im going to start biting things. they make me crazy. theyd do literally anything for each other.#i loooove ghostknife dont get me wrong. im a huge ghostknife warrior #i love williams lamebass awkward teenager crush so much. and i think they should kiss.#but also platonic soulmates ghostkicks takes up so much of my brain space these days. theyre just so. extremely important 2 me.#matesprit vs moirail etc etc #dakota is williams wingman. etc etc etc.#anyway. im chewing through wrought iron bars currently #asks #friends!!!#intertexts

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 11 months

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Though The Path May Be Long, I Shall Find You; Leona Kingscholar

A path lies ahead, some are more treacherous than others. At the end of the winding, coloured footsteps is where they can rest; a bird directing them forward, made out of precious stone.

Main Character; Leona Kingscholar

Supporting Characters; Kifaji, Jack Howl

Content; Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match), gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort, some inner turmoil, bird shenanigans, can be read as platonic, familial, or platonic and that was done on purpose

Content Warning; injury (Leona), I do mention scars/marks but I don't mention where/what they're from

Word Count; 5.5 K

Author's Note; The bird messengers are inspired by mutual relationships that people and some animals have with birds. As with all of my writing, do NOT put my -or other creators' for that matter- works into AI. I did struggle a bit with writing this, so it may read a bit differently, but hey, I wrote it and that's what matters.

Ruggie's Story | Jack's Story

Prologue

Much like the Sea Witch gifted merfolk with soul matches, the King of Beasts did much the same with beastmen. Instead of a song playing in their head or their soul being tugged at by their match, beastmen would receive a messenger made of stone. Typically, this stone messenger would come in the form of a bird, as they can travel far greater distances than a terrestrial creature. And the stone represented what their match would help them overcome in this lifetime. It represented a confidant, an advisor, a friend; the person that they needed most.

And once they were ready to find their match, glowing footsteps would lead them along the path.

These messengers are delivered during the night of their fifth birthday by the southern winds and remain dormant until the time is right for them to start searching their soul match, typically around their thirteenth birthday. If a child does not receive their messenger, it is said to be a marker of bad luck, a bad omen. Not only just for the beastman in question, but for their family and the community at large. This marker is of even greater weight should a member of the royal family not receive a messenger. The last time that happened, a great drought hit the land, causing mass famine and illness. Since then, any member of the royal family who does not receive a messenger is forced to abdicate the throne, even if they are the firstborn. For the common folk though, it holds less weight, even if it is still considered a bad omen.

What if someone does receive a messenger but they don’t activate? What does that mean?

It could mean several different things. It could mean that their soul match has passed before they had the chance to find them. It could mean that their match wasn’t here yet, still to come into this world. These lifeless messengers often bring a sense of loneliness or bitterness, and many a beastman try their best to discard these cruel reminders. No matter how hard they try though, be it magic, force, or distance, the little stone messenger will always come back. Always there as a reminder of what could have been. A reminder that only they can see. The little stone bird will sit by them, vacant of life, but watching them still.

But only they could see their messenger, the only other person who could see it being their match. They would only become apparent to each other once their person decided that they wanted to find their match, that they were ready. Upon finding each other, the two birds will fly around the two, performing an aerial dance. Once this dance is completed, their match’s bird will land on their shoulder, and their bird will land on their match’s in return.

And once these messengers activate they will stop at nothing to guide their person to their match, and cannot be destroyed. It could take hours, days, weeks, months, years, or even several lifetimes, but the bird is determined to find their match, even if the person wanted nothing to do with them. The bird won’t stop, and even though the path may be long, they will always find their match. No matter what.

…

Main Story

…

...

Leona had somehow managed to escape his various caregivers and the supervision of Kifaji… again. But who could blame him? The palace wasn’t the best place for a rambunctious four-year-old. He wanted to play. To explore. To not sit through Kifaji’s boring lectures and lessons. He wanted to just be a kid. And Faleena was always busy, not always able to play hunting games with him and leaving him without a playing partner. So it becomes a habit, to escape the confines of the palace, to trade the grand halls for the grasslands.

The little lion prince continued to walk through the tall grass, running his hands through the swaying blades. The sun was starting to kiss the earth as the sky slowly melted into night, and he could hear the various calls of animals from the brush. But he didn’t pay them much mind, since he was told that they would never harm him, as he was part of the royal family.

Something hopped out of the grass, catching the young lion-beastman’s attention; a butterfly. His eyes followed the slow wing beats and he decided to chase after it. The butterfly didn’t seem to notice or care, staying just out of reach and continuing on its lazy flight path.

“Come here,” Leona called after it, trying to jump and catch it, but the insect avoided his grasp. “Don’t fly away! Can we be friends?��

The butterfly eventually landed on a tree, high up on a branch. Now, why was Leona so determined to catch it? Well, he wanted to get a closer look at it, maybe have it land on his nose before letting it go back into the bush. It was a challenge, one that he wasn’t backing out of so easily.

Leona looked up into the tree and his ears twitched. “Fine then! If you’re not going to come down, I’m coming up!” He started making his way up the tree. Oh, if Kifaji could see him now, he would have grown a white hair on the spot seeing the young prince so high up. But the thought of his advisor’s fretting just made him climb up higher even faster. There! The butterfly was almost within his reach, just a little bit farther-

The butterfly took off, flying off into the sunset, just as he was about to finally catch it too. Leona sighed to himself. At least he had a nice view of the amber sun dipping behind the horizon, turning the sky into warm oranges, pinks, reds, deep blues and violets. Rustling from the canopy caught his attention, and he looked up, curious as to what was making the sound. Sitting on the branch above him was a red-billed hornbill, cleaning its plumage.

“Hi,” he waved at the bird, swinging his legs back and forth.

The bird stopped preening, its full attention focused on Leona. Further up in the tree, he could hear the faint chirping of baby chicks.

Leona stood up on the branch, getting closer to the bird. “Can I see your family? Do you have baby chicks? I wanna see!” He asked excitedly, getting far too close to the bird’s personal space and nest.

The hornbill ruffled its feathers and took flight, but it didn’t go very far. Instead, it turned back and swopped by Leona’s head, trying to tell the child to back away. Instead of backing off though, Leona caught the bird mid-flight. The bird, fearing for its own and its family’s well-being, scratched at his face, leaving behind a large scratch mark going over his left eye.

He let go of the bird, hissing in pain, teardrops starting to form. “Kifajiiiiiiii,” he yelled, tumbling down the tree and running back to the palace, tail in between his legs. “KIFAJIIIIII!” He didn’t want this to happen. He just wanted to play. To have fun. To be a kid.

…

Leona went to bed on the night before his fifth birthday, lightly tracing the still-healing scar on his face. It was still sore, and it stung, both physically and emotionally. Why does nobody like me? He snapped out of his thoughts though, shaking his head.

“You have no one but to blame but yourself, your majesty,” Kifaji said, standing in the doorway to his room. He strode in, and although his words may have sounded harsh, there was a softness in his expression. Sighing, he placed a cool, damp, cloth on the prince’s face. “What were you thinking? You should know better than to run off-” He stopped, noticing the conflicted look on the young boy’s face. Nagging can wait, right now Leona needed comfort, not a lecturer. “…But what’s most important is that you are alright.”

Leona sniffled, “What about my face though? It hurts… I just wanted to play… And it’s going to leave a scar-”

Kifaji smiled softly, “It will heal in time, as all things do. Besides, the King of Beasts had a mark just like it. It may hurt now, and perhaps it will leave a scar, but it proves that you overcame hardships. That you’ve learned lessons.” He tucked in the prince, adjusting the blankets around him. “As for the bird, I believe they were just protecting their family. Your mother would do much the same for you and your brother, as would your father. Now, off to bed with you, as you’ll be receiving your messenger tomorrow.”

“What do you think they’ll be,” Leona asked, his visible eye filled with curiosity. “Do you think it’ll be a bearded vulture? Like Faleena’s?”

Kifaji hummed, “I can’t say, as only you will know that come morning. Now, off to sleep with you. After all, tomorrow is a big day.” The blue-haired man dusted himself off, double-checked the cloth to make sure it was still damp and then left for the night. Leaving the young prince alone.

Leona picked at the dressing on his eye and looked out his window. Outside the stars were shining bright, and the songs of night birds and insects filled the air with their rhythmic melody. A warm breeze played with the curtains, casting dancing shadows onto the walls.

“Please,” Leona whispered to the stars, “please, please, please bring me a friend… I just want a friend.” He pleaded to the night sky. The warm breeze now playing with his hair, lulling him gently off to the land of dreams.

His dream was calm, a starlit sky ahead of him and shifting, glowing sand beneath his feet. All I want is a friend. Can I please have a friend? But he heard nothing, just the gentle hissing of the shifting glowing sand beneath his feet as he walked toward the horizon. A large lion stood in the distance, glowing green eyes looking towards him, beckoning him forward. But when he tried to walk towards them, the sand shifted, having turned into tar. And when he looked back up, the lion was gone. Leaving him with nothing but glowing sand and black tar.

When he woke up in the morning, a small hornbill made out of green calcite sat on his bed stand, silent and watching. And it would have been in perfect condition save for the large scar that cut across the left side of its face, mirroring Leona’s to the T. He touched his scar, remembering that fateful night only three weeks ago. “Why,” he whispered. Why did it have to be a hornbill? Why would the King of Beasts gift him a messenger that had hurt him? Why would he gift a messenger that left behind a scar? And why did it have a scar of its own?

…

It’s been fifteen years since Leona received his messenger, and it has yet to come to life. Yet to fly around. Yet to show him any sign that he had a match out there, somewhere. He took it as a sign that they had either died before they had ever met or, a more bitter thought, that they had yet to enter the world. He didn’t want to be some glorified babysitter.

He has tried to get rid of the damned bird. Thrown it as far as he could when he was younger. Used banishment spells on it as he learned about magic. And when his unique magic had manifested itself, he even used King’s Roar on it. But no matter what he tried, or how hard, the bird always reappeared, even when he turned it into sand. Still as silent and lifeless as it always has been since the first day it had shown up in his life. Still, a bitter reminder that he would rather forget about and pretend never happened.

Even in the ceremonial room, it followed him, taking a liking to his shoulder despite him flinging it off at any chance he could, before just stuffing the annoying thing in his pocket. People would give him a weird look, as they couldn’t see what was pestering the lion beastman, but they ignored him for the most part. Well, most people that is.

“Something bothering you,” Vil murmured under his breath, just loud enough so that only he could hear. “You seem more… irritated than usual.”

Of course, the Pomefiore House Warden would notice his behaviour. He wouldn’t even be surprised if that other third-year and creepy stalker, Rook, was keeping tabs on him. “And, what’s it to you?”

Vil raised a brow, “Just something I took notice of. Can’t be giving your new dorm members a bad impression on the first day.” He paused, as the ceremony was beginning, and welcomed the new Pomefiore students with a practiced smile.

Leona rolled his eyes but welcomed his new wards albeit not as prim, proper, and practiced. They deserved something real, and not dripping with formality. “Well, that ceremony was as boring as ever,” he yawned, having missed his usual nap that he would have at this time of day. “I’m going back to the dorm. If you’re in Savanaclaw House, follow me.”

That’s odd though, that blithering fool of a headmage was nowhere to be seen, and Leona could hear all of the hushed whisperings amongst the students. But he could hear the faint footsteps of two people making their way down the hall. And low and behold, the headmage entered the room in his usual tiring and flamboyant way. Huh, looks like one of the freshmen hasn’t been sorted. He didn’t really care though, even when that cat tried to set the room on fire, or the bickering with Vil. This was all so tiresome, honestly, why did he attend this again?

He didn’t pay much attention to the new Savanaclaw students, leading the way silently. And even though he couldn’t see the other beastmen’s messengers, he could hear the faint rustling of wind as they flew about behind them. His eye twitched, the weight of the stone hornbill weighing heavy in his pant pocket, still cold, still lifeless.

Upon reaching his room, he promptly flopped onto the bed, tossing the bird to the other side of the room with a satisfying crack. Leona closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh, promptly falling asleep. Back to that damned dream where he was stuck in the shifting sands at night, the only source of light being the distant, twinkling stars and the faint gold glow beneath him. And the tar had grown, nearly drowning out the glowing gold.

The stone bird righted itself and came to rest by his head. The orange light from the setting sun warming it. As the sun was traded for the night, the stone bird blinked, finally and slowly coming to life after all these years of stillness.

…

Leona felt something pulling at his hair. Groaning, he grabbed the closest pillow and haphazardly swung it about, trying to get rid of the intruder. “Cheka,” he hissed, as the first person that popped into mind for this annoying behaviour was none other than his young nephew. But when he cracked an eye open, the cheerful five-year-old was nowhere to be seen. Something was still pulling at his hair though.

Flipping over, he finally laid eyes on the intruder, and he stiffened. Sitting on the edge of the bed was his messenger, and it was alive. After a decade of stillness, the pale green crystal bird was finally alive and moving about. He rubbed at his eyes, and the bird was now walking towards him, doing its little call and looking way too happy for his liking. What the- What kind of sick joke is this?

“Oi,” he pushed the crystal bird away, as it had tugged at his hair again. “Cut it out.” Why was it finally awake now of all times? It’s been ten years since it should have awakened, back on his tenth birthday. And now, out of the blue, the now alive and annoying bird had finally decided that now was the time. “Why are you alive?”

The bird flipped onto its back and played with his school uniform ribbon. Why did he expect an actual answer? It was a stone bird. But Leona’s brow was furrowed. Why was the bird finally awake? His face soured even more. I swear if they’re a kid… He didn’t want to deal with another Cheka, especially not for his soul match. Tch, why did I even bother waking up? The bird continued to play with the ribbon, rolling about on the bed.

Leona rolled his eyes and ignored the bird, at least it was pre-occupying itself and not annoying him. Hornbills are playful birds after all, so it makes sense that his messenger would be too. Why again, did the King of Beasts send him a hornbill as his messenger again? “I’m not going to go out of my way and find them,” he huffed, grabbing his ribbon back from the bird.

The hornbill stopped playing and snapped at his hand. “You need to find them,” they spoke in his mind. Ugh, he forgot that they can do that. That the messengers could speak to them in their mind when they deemed it as an important matter. “And they are not a child. They are around your age, from what I can sense. You need to find them.” All of the playfulness from before vanished, suddenly reminding him of Kifaji. Stern… Disappointed.

“What I need is for you to leave well enough alone.” He swatted at the bird, but it flew off and sat on the balcony where they could watch at a safe distance but still have an eye on him. “I don’t need or want you… or them.” They weren’t there then, why should I want them now?

The hornbill ruffled in irritation, “They couldn’t be there, not at the time at least. And you’re lying to yourself.” Their tone shifted, wavering, like they knew something. “You will need them sooner than you realize. When you change your mind, do call.” With that, the bird took off into the morning, leaving behind Leona with his thoughts.

The lion beastman tensed and relaxed his fingers, brow furrowed. “Like hell I’ll need them sooner rather than later,” he muttered to himself. Today had barely begun and he already wanted for it to end. He knew nothing good would come of that bird.

…

You held the green crystal in your hands, turn

ing it over and looking at the carved features. The hornbill was wiggling its toes and singing to itself happily. It was a cheerful little thing and always kept itself busy. And on occasion, you would see a similar bird sitting on the roof, but they never came down from their perch and would fly off before you could investigate further.

You had no idea why or how you came to possess the stone bird. No idea why it was alive the morning after your sudden arrival in Twisted Wonderland. No idea why there was a near-perfect replica sitting on your roof. And you had no idea what it all meant. But in the short time that you had your crystalline friend, you’ve grown attached. Yes, they liked to cause some mischief every now and then, but they were very sweet. They even took a liking to resting on your armchair as you worked, singing their little song.

The little bird even tried to fight that third-year Savanaclaw student, Leona, for you. During the first encounter, where he nearly took a tooth for stepping on his tail they had flown around in a panic; which wasn’t much help. But during his overblot, they had taken a hit from his unique magic, King’s Roar, for you. You had thought that your little friend was gone, forever turned into sand and lost to the wind. Even the bird that sat on the roof went missing for two weeks, but then they were back. Playful as ever before, but there was something else there as well, a sadness of sorts. Frustrated. Restless. Now they also had a large gash, from where they had been hit and it mirrored your own cuts and bruises that you had sustained from the fight. You also noticed that it had other marks, ones that you had sustained back in your dimension.

You should have been angry, but you weren’t. You felt tired, and a sense of guilt. Why had this little bird risked its life for you?

“Prefect,” Jack’s voice snapped you back to the present. Oh right, you had just been forcibly evicted from Ramshackle… the only place you could call home in this world. Now you were sitting in the Savanaclaw Dorm. “Are you alright?”

You blinked, coming out of your thoughts. Jack, even though you two had only just become acquaintances(?), friends(?), was observant that you were spacing off. “Ah… no,” you sigh, all of the stress of the past weeks catching up with you. “No, I’m not alright.”

Jack’s ears twitched, and your crystal friend hopped up onto your shoulder, rubbing its beak on your face. “Do you want to talk about it?” He looked at your shoulder, where the bird was sitting.

“Can you see them?” You could lay your heart bare right now, but you knew most of the answers to them. What you wanted to know was about the bird, and what it meant.

Jack shook his head, “No, but I can hear the flapping of wings.” His brow pinched, thinking. “Has anyone told you? About soul matches?”

Your bird hopped up onto your head and got comfortable up there. “Jack,” you breathed, rubbing your temples, “no one has told me anything.” You paused, realizing how harsh the last part came out. “Sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean-”

But it’s true. No one had told you anything about what a soul match is. Anything about what the bird meant. Anything about how you were possibly going to get back home; if it was possible at all? Anything of real importance when it came to living in this world besides the fact that there were seven pseudo-gods who were villains in your world and that magic was real. You had the scars to prove that much. And you were tired, so tired of not knowing anything.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he placed a hand by yours, in case you needed to hold on to someone. “I don’t know your entire story, Prefect, but I do know that today was stressful… I can tell you more about soul matches, and what your feathered friend means. But that can wait until you’re ready.”

You felt the crystal bird shuffle a bit, letting out a little snore. “I want to know.”

“There once was a king, both noble and fair. Who sought to bring joy to his people’s hearts. The King of Beasts travelled to the horizon and made an agreement with the setting Sun and the whispering winds. On the eve of their sixth year, beastmen and residents of the Sunset Savannah would be gifted a crystal bird messenger. No two were ever the same, as the birds would carry the marks and scars of their person. The crystal itself holds a message on what their match will help them with. These birds are only visible to their person, and can only be seen once they have decided that they wanted to find their match. And though the path may be long, and lead to many different crossroads, the little crystal bird will always find their match.”

Jack’s explanation of the bird messengers played in your head as you stared up at the ceiling. Said bird was sleeping beside you, and much like the story, it had all the same marks you had. The pale green crystal shone softly in the moonlight. Apparently made out of green calcite; a stone meaning to expand your compassion, to heal, of letting go of anger and resentment. You knew that you needed to work on that, but so did your match.

…

Leona was still at ends with himself after his overblot, and that herbivore from Ramshackle was now also crashing at his dorm of all places. But he did owe them, and like hell he was going to let some octo-punk get the better hand. He also happened to overhear the familiar story that Jack had shared with them. So he hadn’t been hearing things, the Prefect did have a messenger. But why did the thought of them having a messenger put a sour taste in his mouth?

You need to find them. You will need them sooner than you realize. He hated to admit it, but the stone bird was right. Maybe if he had taken their offer he would have found them by now. Maybe he wouldn’t have overblotted… Maybe he would finally know that someone could accept him, not because of his title or royal status, but because, just maybe, they would accept him for just being him.

“You were right,” he huffed, turning over and looking to the balcony.

The crystal hornbill was back like it had never left. “Are you ready then?” It flew over and took a roost on his forearm. Are you ready to start healing? It wasn’t spoken, but it was implied, especially after all of that blot had surfaced.

Leona shifted to an upright position, looking up to the stars, feeling the warm air gently surround him carrying the scent of warm earth and blossoming night flowers. “... Not yet.”

The bird nipped at one of his ears, “What are you waiting for then? An invitation?” It continued picking at his ears, trying to get Leona to action.

His ears flattened, from irritation but also to escape the attack. “Oi, cut it out, would ya? I want to make it up to them first before waltzing in like some ‘prince charming’ into their life.” He rolled his eyes at the cliched term. He didn’t view himself like that, and he didn’t want his soul match getting that idea either. He knew that he had aspects of himself that he needed to work on… That he needed to heal. But he didn’t want them taking the brunt of it. He wanted to prove to them, that besides his initial rejection, he was trying. That he wanted to make this work… Whatever this proved to be. Be they a friend, found family, or even something else. He was tired, so tired of being alone… maybe he could finally let someone in.

“Hmph, as long as you don’t keep them waiting for too long.” But the hornbill’s stoney expression softened, joking. Leona didn’t notice how the bird looked off to the side, looking at your sleeping form, nodding at the matching bird sitting beside you. “And they are a lot closer than you think.”

Leona flopped back on the bed, making the bird take flight to avoid getting tossed about. “Mmm, what matters most is travelling the path, whatever it may look like, and finding them at the end of it. Or whatever that bedtime story was.”

Going back to sleep, he was expecting to be back in the endless glowing dunes as he usually was every night. Stuck in the tar. But tonight was different. Instead of barren sands, he was surrounded by blooming flowers, towering trees, and a pleasant filtered light radiating through the branches. He was in the botanical gardens, under his favourite tree, his hornbill chasing after some butterflies… And the lion from all those years ago was back, standing in front of him. Follow the path. Find them. And it was gone, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. He placed his over their’s, squeezing it.

…

You’ve noticed something different about Leona ever since you made your alliance during Azul’s overblot. Yes, he still called you herbivore, but he seemed easier to read, not as closed off. You could tell that he was joking with you by the sway of his tail, and the flicking of his ears.

“Head in the clouds again?”

Oh right, there’s been another new development alongside Leona. Your crystalline friend now spoke to you. Well, not really speaking, more so talking in your mind. The first time it happened you nearly threw it across the room, but honestly, what were you expecting? A talking crystal bird shouldn’t have been that shocking to you after everything you’ve been through.

Your attention snapped back to the lecture Professor Crewel was giving a certain group of first-years about not eating during lab. “Just there’s been a lot,” you said. Seems like there wasn’t going to be any new content taught today since somebody decided to eat the ingredients and get rushed to the infirmary room. You wonder if Crewel just said that his hair was dyed or if he was going white early due to the impulsive thoughts and actions of his students. So you were able to freely discuss as much as you pleased with your stone friend. “What can you tell me about them?”

The bird paused in its fuddling with a spare pen, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?”

“You need to travel down that path on your own decision, not influenced by anyone,” they took off, leaving you alone for the first time on their own free accord. But gold, glowing footsteps followed them, leading the way.

I need to travel the path on my own decision. You knew those glowing footsteps would lead you towards your soul match. But why did they lead to Ramshackle?

…

Meanwhile, in the botanical gardens, Leona was sitting comfortably under one of his favourite trees, eyes closed and tail swishing back and forth peacefully. But he was awake, and he was listening in to the conversation of his hornbill and a new voice.

“How do you think it will go?”

He recognized the voice of his hornbill.

There was shuffling on the branch, a new voice entering his head. “They are both quite stubborn, but seeing the progress thus far, even without them knowing, is promising. But they must go forward, forge their own path.”

He cracked an eye open, seeing the two green birds sitting together on their perch. But something else caught his eye, glowing footsteps. Follow it. So he followed them, the footsteps. Leona saw the other hornbill, his soul match’s hornbill take flight, the footsteps leading in the same direction. He looked back under the tree. To follow or not to follow, that was the question…

He ran after the footsteps, his hornbill clutching onto his shoulder for dear life.

“WHAT IS WITH THE SUDDEN CHANGE OF HEART?!” They squawked, falling off and flying beside him.

Leona rounded a corner, nearly running head-first into a Scarabia student, but he ignored him and kept on running, getting weird looks from everyone. “I’m tired of waiting,” he snapped. But also, he knew that there was going to be no perfect time to find them. He realizes what he needs to work on. He realizes that it will be a rocky path. That it will take time to heal. But he knew that whoever was at the end of the glowing footsteps, that they had the matching hornbill. That they were right. That they were his equal in all things. Regardless of status. Regardless of upbringing. Regardless of what even his first insecure thoughts were.

He stopped running, looking to where the footsteps disappeared under the door. The front door of Ramshackle Dorm. He put his hand on the doorknob, but he didn’t turn it.

They are a lot closer than you think. They weren’t able to be there for you for a reason. So it wasn’t just a sense of owing someone then. That bitter taste in his mouth from when he found out you had a soul match was jealousy that it could be someone other than him. Of course, it was you. One of the first people in a long time where he felt like you weren’t looking down at him, or just judging on initial interactions. That you accepted him. That you rolled your eyes whenever he felt like being snarky with you. That you bantered with him. That he felt… lighter with you.

But his hand didn’t move. He took it off the knob. He wasn’t just going to barge in. So he knocked on the wood, three gentle tap tap taps.

You looked up from the busted wall you were trying to patch up, the ghosts having alerted you that someone was waiting at the door for you. The fact that they were waiting surprised you, usually people would just come in unannounced or just kick the door down. But they were waiting. You made your way to the door and looked through a large crack. What was Leona doing here?

You opened the door, and you noticed the same bird that watched after you from the roof. Both of your birds took flight and danced with the other before coming down and landing on both of your shoulders. Performing the soul match dance.

"I'm glad it's you."

Fin!

Link to Masterlist

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halforcdad · 2 years

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if lucy only had one bag of belongings that means she really does travel light like she said and has a very minimalist/empty apartment (possibly because real estate is super expensive in hawai`i already and she can't afford much or this is just something she kept up after being cut off from her parents or since her life is just work and gym she didn't see the point in buying furniture) or lucy was like 'my girlfriend has a four-poster bed and a huge ass couch i don't need all this shit' and sold or dumped all her shit over those couple of weeks

which begs the question: what kind of messy was Lucy's apartment for Kate to suggest she needed a cleaning service for?

it's the difference between lucy's apartment is messy because she has beer bottles and pizza boxes lying around or lucy's place is dusty because she's never there and she lets laundry and bills pile up or something

#ncis hawaii #lucy tara #ik this is the real analysis yall are watching this show for #me at my conspiracy corkboard wondering how lucy owning only a few things connects to her leaving all her parents' money behind #lucy didnt go out much in college...was she a fellow hustler who ate like ramen and pizza religiously bc she was broke #but also wow the opposites attract of it all #kate being organized and having a huge apartment with lots of furniture #lucy having a small place with not a lot of stuff and shes still messy af and doesn't know where her shit is #soulmates baby #plot twist most of her essential stuff is already at kates and her backpack was just her cowboys jerseys #the show: lucy just doesnt buy a lot of shit #me in my dark corner: no...this has to do with family trauma somehow...it has to

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byeler · 7 months

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unpopular opinion: i never got the hype around elumax 😅

ooh controversial indeed but i get what you’re saying!! i think the idea behind elumax comes from people enjoying both elmax and lumax separately and not really wanting to choose a side, so they just combine it together. overall i agree in that i don’t see anything romantic happening between el and lucas, so i think elumax could work in a “both of them are dating max but not each other” way, but not in an “all three of them are dating” way. i also think it sort of evolved from some of the twitter discourse last year—a common complaint for m*leven shippers is about how bylers want el to be alone and unloved after everything she’s been through, so any ending that doesn’t have el in a relationship is bad/misogynistic because she deserves love, but breaking up lumax for a “white gay ship” is bad/racist because now lucas is ending up alone and unloved etc etc, so it becomes a catch-22 unless they all end up together (also think this plays into some henderhop popularity but that’s a whole other thing) but i think the short answer is that i agree, and i think very very few people have it as a main ship and simply use it as set dressing for ships they actually care about

send me unpopular opinions!

#i actuallllly had a fic idea that i haven’t totally scrapped but. also maybe scrapped that had elumax #as a twist on soulmate aus. but i haven’t been able to get it to work the way i want it to #ask games

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shivunin · 1 year

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Happy anniversary to me and AO3!!

Here is the aforementioned more coherent post. I have divided it in two parts: a little note and a silly and self-indulgent section (affectionate) where I give some of my fics fun lil superlatives. I'll add a couple little factoids to the latter section, too, just for giggles.

But before all that: I'm not gonna get emotional this time, but I have greatly enjoyed writing Dragon Age fic. I told myself three things when I started, all of them comically incorrect now ("I'm only writing this one story," "I will never write a soulmate AU," and "I will never write a DA2 story; no way could I ever hold a candle to what already exists") and I am so, so glad I was wrong on all counts. I have grown so much as a writer because of fic and I have met some genuinely remarkable people. If you have ever commented, written something in the tags, kudo'd, or bookmarked anything I've written (and especially if you have ever sent me a writing prompt, bless you), from the bottom of my heart: thank you. It has been genuinely incredible to share my love of this series with y'all, and I can only hope you have felt as glad of the experience as I have.

That's really all you need to know---that I'm glad to know you, in whatever sense that means. Thanks for sticking around c:

(and thanks to Cullen for scrambling my brain so thoroughly that I am still doing this a year later when I swore it was just going to be the one story lol)

Anyways! (she says, setting up the cake and candles and kazoos even though the room is otherwise empty)---

I was thinking about what to do for this anniversary that only I am keeping track of, and I decided (because of a trip I took when I was sixteen, which I originally recounted here, but which has no bearing on any of this so I cut it) that it would be funny to give my fics their own imaginary certificates. You know, like participation trophies. For my own entertainment (only a few though; there are twenty-three of them, and that's too many awards). Awards follow:

Best Punch: Your Fate for Mine; after I finished Trespasser the first time, I really wanted to deck Solas, so I let Cullen do it for me. It's the best one because it was the most satisfying to write C: (fun fact also: bless him, my husband proofread all the smut in this fic for accuracy lmao. special side award to my husband for being the best)

Best Kiss: Wander the Drifting Roads; nothing has yet felt as satisfying to me as Emma and Cullen kissing in the rain after all that time. I think about it Often. Also I wrote the first draft of this fic in roughly a week and a half---which is why it needed so much editing later :)

Most Persistent: To the Bone; because I swear to whatever higher power is out there, I tried so hard not to write a soulmate story but Salshira would not be stopped. In the end, I couldn't let the idea go and well, here we are.

Specialest Baby: Tidal Lock; because it is my special baby and the first fic I ever completed. I have a soft spot for it, and oddly enough it has the highest kudos: bookmarks ratio of my works at over half. It was extremely fun to write Cullen as a kid (he is soooo serious) and (for me) there's such a pleasant full-circle element to the narrative.

Best Smut: More than Memory; this one is my imaginary people's choice award, since it was received far and away the best of any smut I've written. I think, and it's just my intuition here, that it's on account of all the yearning. But maybe it's actually cus Cullen is, as always, a hot, hot mess C:

Hyperfocus Award: This one's a tie between Misericordia and Saccharine. As soon as I knew what to write for both of them, I achieved that beautiful state of not noticing the passage of time, anyone around me, the existence of my physical body, nor any of my pressing irl tasks. I wrote both of these in a delightful fog and then came back to it later as if seeing it for the first time. Extremely nice experience, 10/10, would recommend.

Blue Ribbon, Gold Star: A Golden Bell Hung In My Heart; this one gets a special extra award because I think it's probably the best thing I've written so far (at least from a technical standpoint, but it has a lot of my favorite elements, as well). It's one of the few for which I knew what I was trying to write when I set out to write it, and I think I achieved it unequivocally. Also, you know. Presents :)

Tumblr Ficlet Award: lol I am not picking only one. Here're my top three ficlets, based on how pleased with myself I felt when I initially typed them out: Lock and Key (I loooooove a good hurt/comfort), A Fool and His Gold (love yearning, too), and A Bond Beheld (because it includes that knight/liege thing that makes the Cullen romance so!!!).

For posterity: Unless I finish this short fenris/hawke piece open in the other tab, my final word count last year is 516,937 which is....a shocking amount. I probably won't surpass that this year, which is fine. I had no idea I had at least 450,000 words to say about Cullen, but hey, here we are.

That's it for this year---and I have no idea if I'll do this again next year---but thanks if you've read this far! I really wanted an excuse to think back on what I've written this year and have a little laugh to myself :) Have a good Thursday and...yeah. Thanks for reading!

#bleh #is it weird to give your fics lil awards? maybe #i don't care tho i will take my joys where i can find them #i was gonna do oc awards too but it felt mean-spirited #i love all of them #search your hands gets the honorable mention for dithering bc i had that bad boy mostly finished for six months #before i was encouraged to post it #i want to be clear: there's nothing wrong with soulmate fic or stories in general #obviously. i just thought there were too many out there already for me to write one also #briefly considered making a poll lmao but like lbr maybe five people have read all of these #that's a self-indulgent step too far #nb: by 'love of the series' i mean 'love of the framework of da which i have twisted and changed for my own ends' ofc #anyways damn that's a lot of tags if you've read my fic i adore you and i am offering a hug of your preferred level of intensity #no editing we die like kings (willfully ignorant of the wrongs we have committed upon the less fortunate)

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kunosoura · 2 years

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“Company where Bobby is gay” is literally just Merrily We Roll Along. Like Bobby’s fuckboy behavior stems from a genuine fear of intimacy he’s developed after years of watching his friends make each other half miserable in their marriages, and moving past that serves as the climax of his character arc. Frank on the other hand genuinely doesn’t care that much about any of the women he hurts or loses, turning quickly to bitterness and moving on when the spark fades, but he spends his entire life in grief over the intimacy he lost with Charlie.

#Frank is that joke about how a man will hurt every woman he loves because his soulmate is a man #Bobby is just a quietly nurtured repertoire of wife bad jokes #I also don’t think Bobby being gay (or a woman tbh) works because his character is informed so heavily by sondheim’s tendency to satirize #heterosexuality and the way its norms twist people up. and Bobby as a character approaches that from specifically a male perspective

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multi-lefaiye · 2 years

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happpyyyyyyyy stsssssssss if you had to rewrite the ending of one of ur stories, what would u do diffrerent?

Happy sts to youuuuuu!!!! thank you friend!!! :'>

hmmMMM.... this is an interesting question!!!!! i'm gonna look back at that older wip i ended up abandoning but look back on kinda fondly at times, spotters' quest.

for those who don't remember (which is fair), spotters' quest was a story about seven characters convicted of various crimes going on a journey through essentially hell to redeem themselves by finding a rare treasure rumored to be at the bottom.

i don't remember all the details of my original planned ending, but i do remember that the original plan was that they'd be successful in finding the treasure, but this success would come at a great personal cost. which i like! but... what if..... they weren't successful.......

essentially if i revisit spotters' quest and rewrite it, one of the big changes i'd make would be changing the ending to have it hat the treasure was never real to begin with. they were sent on a wild goose chase and went through both literal and metaphorical hell for nothing. sure, they all grew and became better people by the end, but i would want the ending question of this story to be was this even worth it?

and i don't think there'd be a good answer for that, especially because one of the major characters in spotters' quest dies in a terrible, painful fashion despite the others' best attempts to save her.

goddammit yeah the more i think about spotters' quest the more i do kinda wanna go back to it someday, whadda hell

#talk to the bunnykitty #bat time all the time #storyteller saturday #i also remember like. part of the end planned reveals for spotters' quest was gonna involve a reveal #that two of the major characters were two halves of one soul #i don't remember if i ever told anyone about it but i was really excited about that plot twist #(also i don't mean that in a soulmates way. i mean they were literally one soul split in two to make two new beings)#i don't think i foreshadowed that well in the actual story at the time but. hm

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