#post chapter 9

[jakeyt]

What if… covet Jake has a breeding kink

.......... this is an interesting thought, hm? 😏😏 ;)

[taiyami]

Here is to 27 years of friends, cool monsters and laughs thanks to our wonderful Kazuki Takahashi. I cannot express how I hope he knew how deeply he was loved by his admirers and fans, even after his passing a little more than a year ago.

[desultory-novice]

Gearing myself up to resume work on my lo~ng neglected doujin in December with some rough sketches + more coloring practice~

Bonus lil guys...

[volivolition]

DAY 4: DRAMA - Put on your prettiest face for the masses!

gonna start adding silly captions actually. [POINTS ACCUSINGLY] MELTY FUCK (AFFECTIONATE)!!

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

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

[eemoo1o-animoo]

Oh, neato, some panel parallels! (Ch.6 & Ch.9)

[yaksinhats]

Cover for my passion project durgestarion fic I write with my co-author Inkymouse on ao3 - check it out here!

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy on AO3

Excerpts from the Targaryen Histories in regards to Lady Abrogail Strong, as collected by Archmaester Gyldayn

[…] Introduced by the Lord Hand's wife, Lady Cybell Reyne, Lyonel Strong and Celeste Reyne were a love match. The third and final marriage for the lord, the two of them complimented the other well. The Lady Celeste was both a kind and formidable woman, a true lioness of the Westerlands. It was said that she could speak so sweetly for nightblooms to open in the day, and command an army as easily as she could command the ladies at a summer picnic. Lord Lyonel was a quiet man, intimidating upon sight but could easily indulge in discussing more obscure moments of history with great vigor. Children would be difficult for the couple, and after miscarriages and a child who passed shortly after birth, Abrogail Strong was born in the cool, early days of spring in 109 AC. Lord Lyonel named her for one of his more obscure historical interests of the demon sorceress, Abrogail Thrune, of Asshai.

Grandmaester Mellos has the most to share during this time, having attended the Lady Celeste in her final years and thus we can take his writings as primary source. The child, Abrogail, was installed in the nursery along with the young Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena. The children were soon joined by the infant Prince Aemond, raised together as kin, under the watchful eye of the Queen and Lady Celeste. The children were rambunctious and close, frequently seen together exploring and playing. Sources agree that tensions began to rise once Princess Rhaenyra's firstborn son, Jacaerys Velaryon, joined what had been affectionately dubbed The Clutch per the command of the King. Later sources suggest that the rumors of Jacaerys' bastard parentage were strengthened here as the children grew older, with many remarking that both Abrogail and Jacaerys shared the same smile and dimples. The initial rumors questioned due to the darker features the boy had compared to both his assumed parentage; it was the similarities with the young Abrogail that narrowed the potential fathers down to Ser Harwin Strong, Rhaenyra's champion and sworn shield.

Stories are told that the Hand of the King had attempted to resign but the King refused his request, and demanded that he return after setting his heir up in the Riverlands. Abrogail was meant to have accompanied them, but Larys Strong himself states that his father decided that he would send for her later. It was a decision that saved the child's life. Fire broke out in the holding, killing Lyonel and Harwin without any chance of rescue.

Grandmaester Mellos' records state that the child fell into a depression so deep, they feared she might take her own life. She had gone mute and listless, refusing to engage in activities that once delighted her, and refused to eat. She was considered unwell enough that it was deemed unwise to allow her to attend Harrenhal for her beloved father and brother's funeral. When informed of this, Lady Abrogail gave no reaction, and seemed to sink further into her grief. Septon Eustace provides an account of witnessing both Abrogail and Prince Aegon in the sept, where the Prince had joined her in her prayers. He does not know what words were exchanged between the pair, but witnessed a smile grace the Lady's face before he led her out by the hand to ride Sunfyre, a past time that the pair would indulge in together for years to come.

[…] There was little surprised when, on Prince Aegon's nameday in 126 AC, the official betrothal was announced between the prince and the Lady Abrogail. What was surprising was the declaration that the pair would reside in the Riverlands. House Targaryen had one holding outside the Iron Throne, that of Dragonstone, which Aenys Targaryen had made the seat of the heir. While many had expected the king to name his first born son heir during the festivities, it appeared that the king had other ideas. Had Queen Alicent sought to bolster her son's position and gain the support of the Riverlands when the time came? Or had King Viserys finally stepped in between the factions of his household, declaring Aegon's seat to be gained through his wife, and a holding that held such tragedy and foreboding?

@fyeahhotdocs, @ocappreciation, @stannisfactions, @fragilestorm, @starcrossedjedis, @darkwolf76, @arrthurpendragon, @dopedaegus, @hiddenqveendom, @mantillon, @lightofthearrow, @songsonacliffside, @acrossthesestars, @insabecs, @prosemoireia, @dragonsbone, @corporalicent, @jadore-andor, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @gwenllian-in-the-abbey, @notbloodraven, @impales, @arcielee, @thesunfyre4446, @thatmagickjuju, @kingsmakers

[oldmanffucker]

*hands you this* chapter 9 of kissing windows

[a-writing-otter]

WIP Wednesday - Chapter 9 of the Redemption and Subsequent Death of Bill Cipher

“Okay. Okay. One more time.”

Bill shakes himself off, eyes fixed on where Red and Dipper are standing. Dipper is sitting on the back of Question Mark’s pickup truck with his notebook and Red is standing there, twirling an axe in her hand. Bill is stanced in front of a target, facing them.

As of three days ago, Bill is back on his feet and back to work. After waking up and being cognizant enough to actually function in Ford’s room, they’d made him lay back for another day. While Bill put up a good bit of complaint about it, it wasn’t all that bad, mostly because Ford stayed with him and pet his hair and let him stay in his bed.

Again, things aren’t exactly back to the way they were before, but there’s marked improvement. Ford will be in the same room as him again, talks to him again, even seeks him out. The night before, they’d just sat on the roof of the Mystery Shack looking at the stars and talking in a way that made Bill remember again how things had been thirty years prior.

In addition to whatever is repairing between him and Ford, Bill has devoted all spare energy to trying to get that alternate form to come out. They’ve tried meditation and clenching and willing it into being, but nothing has worked. The last solution was near-death experiences.

Thus Red, her axe, and a large target behind Bill.

“Ready?” Red asks, tossing the axe up and down in her hand for a second.

Shaking his shoulders out, Bill nods.

“Ready.”

“Alright then. Three… two—“

Red throws it on two, it sails right past Bill’s ear, Bill screams, and nothing else happens.

“What happened to ‘go on one’?!” Bill shrieks when he comes back to himself, heart hammering in his chest.

“It’s no fun if you expect it,” Red laughs, going over to collect her axe where it is sunk deep into the target beside Bill. “We’re trying to simulate a ‘near death experience’.”

“Yeah, well—“

“What are you doing?”

The three of them look up to see Ford and Mabel wandering to them. Ford is staring at Bill like he’s got three heads while Red pulls the axe out and puts it on her shoulder.

“I actually don’t know how to answer that question,” Bill confesses.

“We’re seeing if we can coax that other version of Bill out through fear,” Dipper says instead.

“By throwing axes at him?” Ford doesn’t sound mad, almost unimpressed. “There’s better ways to scare him.”

“Well, if you’ve got anything better, I’ll hear it. Nothing’s happening,” Bill tells him.

“Short of just praying that it happens when it happens, we’ve tried everything I would normally suggest,” Dipper notes from the truck.

And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

“You could try the ‘Mew Mew Kissy Cutie’ method?” Mabel suggests, climbing up into the truck to sit next to Dipper.

Ford and Bill both blink at her while Red groans and rolls her eyes.

“The what?” Bill asks.

“It’s a stupid kid’s show,” Red dismisses.

“It is an ‘anime’,” Mabel corrects with a good deal of gravitas, “and it is a very important anime.”

“Those are the shows that Soos watches sometimes, right?” Ford recalls and Mabel nods enthusiastically.

“Soos showed them to me! It’s about a magical girl!”

“Magical—” Bill starts.

“Girl?” and Ford finishes.

“Well, I’m not magic or a girl.”

Dipper makes a thoughtful sound.

“You are magical and, technically, you aren’t a boy or a girl, you’re a demon.”

“I mean, yes, your binary understanding of gender doesn’t work outside of your realm, but according to the fake ID your grunkle got me so I can buy various age-appropriate implements, I’m a man.”

“It’s not about being a boy or a girl,” Mabel insists before standing, striking a pose, “it’s about saving the world and doing so in a cute outfit and magical powers! One of those things is taken care of.”

“…but I can’t access the magical powers,” Bill reminds. It’s stupid, incredibly stupid, but at this point, they’ve only got so many options.

“Alright, what do I do?”

Mabel energetically jumps down from the truck and goes over to him.

“So, the first thing you do is you have to spin around in a circle and put your arms above your head. After a couple circles, you stop, you strike a pose, and you wink.”

“…I do what?”

“You know, you—“ And Mabel comes closer before lifting her arms above her head. She turns in a neat circle a couple of times before stopping short, hip popped with one hand on it and the other holding a peace sign next to her face.

Bill blinks at her.

“You’re kidding.”

“You heard her,” Ford insists, sounding amused. “You spin in a circle with your hands above your—“

“You just want to see me dance around and make an idiot of myself.”

“The concept has merit, yes,” Ford teases.

Bill waves him off before looking down at Mabel. “I seriously have to do all of that?”

Mabel nods energetically.

The entire group is staring at Bill hopefully and— Look, they’re desperate at this point. …what’s the worst that happens, honestly?

Bill lets out a deep sigh, squaring his shoulders, and muttering under his breath about “stupid powers” and “stupid magical girls”. Stopping a few paces away, he takes a deep breath in, willing the pale heat in his face to die down.

He lifts his arms over his head, spins in two circles before doing the same move as Mabel before stopping, hip popped, hand on his hip, and peace sign near his face.

Nothing happens.

Ford immediately bursts into laughter and Bill throws his hands up.

[jakeyt]

Just thinking about how excited I am for covet yn not having to hide her pregnancy anymore the fluff that is filling my head is giving me a sweet tooth

Imagining how protective from a far Jake is gunna be just silently watching and shit

ME TOO. Having it out in the open is exactly what she (and we lol) needed ;)

and ohhhh, what it will bring now that Jake and Maya know..... that's all I'll say ;)

[every-grelle-sutcliff]

[heartofalifer]

sometimes I lay at night thinking what exactly did daisy write in the description of alec hardy's tinder profile and what pictures did she use that made her think that could get women to swipe right on him. was it selfies? was it candid photos she took? was alec wearing that blue jumper on and reading a paper with his legs crossed in the photos? I need to know

[shepherds-of-haven]

SHEPHERDS OF HAVEN ALPHA PREVIEW UPDATE [10/31/23]

The Shepherds of Haven alpha preview has been updated here!

Note: This is not the same thing as the public demo, which is available for everyone and covers the first four chapters of the game: the alpha preview is the early access version available to Patrons and testers!

TOTAL WORDCOUNT: 1,039,236 WORDS WITHOUT CODE

WHAT’S NEW:

14,000 words of new content!

More Chapter 9! Croelle! Sibella de Vespe!

New Trouble day off interlude!

(For the Troublemancers: Are things finally starting to sink in for our favorite sharpshooter? Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?! Find out here...)

Please be sure to read the specific developer notes on Patreon for more info, as well as check the Incomplete Routes Guide linked in the alpha build post if you have questions about how to proceed through the alpha build! 

WHAT’S NEXT:

Probably more Chapter 9 and possibly another character interlude, but I'm also eyeing up the Ascendancy Festival and wondering if I should start chipping away at the bulk of it... I might write a base "template" for the festival that covers its main points (like Chandry's awful play based on the Shepherds) without including the add-on romantic catalyst bits until more of the interludes have been written, so the progression for the romances remains natural and organic!

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy! I look forward to seeing your thoughts, and hope you’re having a great end to your spooky season and a wonderful start to your November! 🧡🎃

[ddeongies]

pretty please

established relationship, rough sex, power bottom shin ryujin, service top hwang yeji, "i want that twink obliterated" the fic | word count: 11.8k (2 chapters) 🔞

Ryujin honestly doesn’t have any complaints. She and Yeji have been dating for a couple of semesters now, and it’s been really fucking great. Sure, they’d butted heads in her early days with the JYPU Dragons, but it turns out that like 90% of that had just been sexual tension. Go figure. Once they finally got their shit together (with a little bit of help from their long-suffering teammates), they realized they just click. Yeji really is the perfect girlfriend: sweet, smart, fun, caring, and hot as hell.  Sometimes Ryujin thinks her favorite thing about Yeji is how gentle she is. How kind. It makes Ryujin want to protect her even though the girl is perfectly capable of protecting herself. Yeji likes it though, likes the way Ryujin looks out for her, makes sure she’s taking care of herself.   Other times, she thinks her favorite thing about Yeji is how grounded she is. No matter what’s going on around her, she always keeps her head on straight. She’s rational, calm, and relaxed in a way that almost hides how observant and vigilant she is. It’s part of what makes her such a good captain and such a good partner.  Scratch that. Her favorite thing about Yeji is the sex. Yeah, that’s it. Ryujin is no stranger to Yeji’s physicality, focus, and attention to detail on the court, and it absolutely translates to the bedroom. She’s never had a more dedicated, attentive, or athletic lover. Power forward in the streets, power forward in the sheets. Or something.  Lately, though, Ryujin has found herself wanting more.

Keep reading

[lesfruitsdores]

Earlier this year, I read a horror novel called 'Fervor' by Toby Lloyd. It deals with Jewish mysticism, Jewish life in the UK, the overbearing trauma of the Holocaust and each Jewish character's unique experience with Judaism.

Several of the details are fuzzy now, but one bit of the novel that stayed with me is a conversation Kate, the narrator who discovers she's a patrilineal Jew (her father's own Jewishness was hidden from him due to antisemitism) and Hannah, the "controversial" Zionist mother of her university friend. Kate thinks the antizionist group on campus isn't all unreasonable, while Hannah thinks they're antisemites. Then the decades old conversation of whether Anti-Zionism is antisemitism commences, with Hannah proclaiming that it is a well-known fact that antisemitism is a predominant ideology, so could Kate really believe that of all people, the ones shouting for the destruction of the Jewish State truly couldn't possibly be antisemitic?

It is fascinating to me that during the "Great Awokening", the pejorative term for when progressives reckoned with the fact that so many people held racist, xenophobic, misogynistic and homophobic views, they never got to discuss the millennia old persecution of Jews. In their world, everybody is prejudiced, but the people calling for a global intifada just want to make their political opinions on world injustices heard.