#And also I would tag y'all...

[brainmuncher]

The emergency

A good number of members within the Justice League have children. Not all of those kids are biological or adopted but they are their kids nonetheless. Some of those kids are even old enough to be adult heroes of their own, but even then they are still their kids. And the other kids tend to take up heroism at a very young age to most people's chagrin. Although as shown by the original child hero, now going by Nightwing, it’s not as easy as telling the kids to stop.

It was learned through intense hardship that smothering the child heroes was just asking for trouble. Despite how much the older heroes wanted to stay close to their kids, it was seen as overbearing and a show of mistrust. They would act out with even less backup in retaliation, which would only bring even more stress.

So to satisfy the need for protection without stepping on any toes, two new emergency meeting signals were introduced.

One was for the kids to send off. Each one was gifted a small device that could be hidden in their person. The device had both a mic and a tracking chip that could be activated when they were in extreme danger. As soon as the device was active a signal would be sent to the league for an emergency distress signal with the details of who sent it. Due to an outcry from the kids, the device could not be activated by the guardian of the child. The mic and locator could only be activated from the device itself. It wasn’t nearly as protective as some of the more worried leaguers would like, but it was at least something. 

The second signal was one that the leaguer with a kid in danger could activate. This signal could be activated with a single code into the communicators that every member owned. If the member who sent out the signal didn’t specify what kid was in danger, every member would receive a generalized notification of the emergency alert for one of the kids. This wasn’t ideal, but it was learned early on that the guardian of the child was often too distressed to make the code more complicated. It was best to leave it simple and answer questions at the emergency meeting.

Which was great in all, until someone who doesn’t have a child involved with heroics in their care sends off a general emergency.

In places all over the globe, an emergency meeting signal message was sent by Hal Jordan, one of the lanterns. He didn’t include what child was in danger in the signal, meaning that it could be any of the underaged heroes. And considering he didn’t have a child in his care, that made multiple members panic.

When was the last time they checked in with the kids in their care? Who was the one he was sending the code for? What happened to the child he had noticed was in danger? Why is he the one that noticed? Where were their kids? Who was in danger?

Because of the nebulous nature of the call, it didn’t take long for multiple heroes to find the nearest transport to the watchtower and tumble in. What they didn’t expect was the absolute haggard appearance of their friend. He was standing in the meeting room looking like the world had been destroyed before his very eyes. The way he sat without even cracking a sarcastic remark made multiple members pause.

“Hal?” Wonder Woman called, her face pinched in concern. “What has happened?”

The aforementioned member looked over who had already arrived before settling on her face. It was at that moment she knew that he was only looking so collected through willpower alone. This wasn’t just any child of the league, this was personal.

“My nephew Danny has been captured,” He began, sending a wave of different emotions circling the room. “I’ve been trying to find where they took him for a week now and I can’t get any leads. I need your help.”

The unsaid questions and emotions were nearly palpable. Multiple members turned to one another or stared with a million questions. Nobody had known that Hal even had a nephew named Danny. Sure he mentioned someone named Jason at times, but he never indicated anything else. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned him or the fact that he’d been apparently searching for a week was strange.

“And why are you only telling us now? Why did you wait so long?” Superman asked, speaking up the question that was on multiple minds.

A fire of anger curled in Hal's eyes. It was fierce and protective. It was a mixture of appalment for being questioned on his decision and fury for the reasons why he had to do it in the first place. He stepped forward towards the center table, slamming his palms down and leaning into it.

“Because any person that goes against the group will be declared an enemy of the United States. I’ve already had my account and housing connected to Green Lantern seized,” He explained with a deceptively calm tone. “I also needed to make sure that they didn’t have any connections with the Justice League. They have their agents everywhere.”

Unsurprisingly, Batman appeared from the gathered heroes from seemingly nowhere. Despite the feud between the two of them, the Bat was completely zeroed in on the situation. While he had a decent amount of distrust in the lantern, mainly because of the parallax incident, he could tell that the man was genuine. And the Bat always did have a blind spot for children.

“Explain,” Was all Batman said, staring Hal down.

The lantern in question looked at him with a grim face. This was it. Now or never.

“They’re called the Ghost Investigation Ward, or GIW for short. They hunt down and either exterminate or experiment on anyone they deem ectocontaminated or a ghost,” Hal started to explain, his hand curling on the table in frustration. “My brother Jack faked his death and ran off to be with another woman. Those fucks deemed my nephew as ectocontaminated and tried to take him from his home. He ran from his family so that they couldn’t be arrested for knowingly harboring an ecto entity. Told me that he remembered my face from a photo his dad tried to hide in the attic and sought me out.”

If the fire in his eyes were any stronger, they would probably become physical and burn down the room. It was undeniable that Hal Jordan was understandably completely pissed off. This situation was terrible from down to the very root.

“I tried to hide him but they somehow found him anyway. Now my civilian name is being heavily monitored and Green Lantern is being hunted down,” He finished his explanation. “If you join me in this, be prepared to lose everything.”

This was so much worse than anyone could’ve predicted.

[hatsbuckets]

[i do not need a fwb situation, i tell myself repeatedly. (i'm in college it'd be way too easy lmao)]

Head Canons (some suggestive stuff in this but not much)

Thinking about John Mactavish volunteering at animal shelters whenever he can. It ends up being like a few spattering of days every month, but he'll spend all day there. He loves being around the animals. And he loves getting to be useful and help wherever he can.

You, a longtime volunteer, there nearly every day, love having the enthusiastic, charming... strong... muscular... funny... extra help too. You were the one who showed John around on his first day, a volunteer event day that he happened upon. A few dozen people showed up, and this mohawked, military man was among them.

He was one of the few who came back to the shelter after the event, and on some random day every week, he's there to lend a hand, listening intently to whatever instructions you give him (he's very motivated to listen to you and help the animals out) and even after a couple weeks of absence, he comes back again, apologizing that work took him away so suddenly.

And after a few months... this silly, mohawked, (might I add effortlessly charming, handsome, pretty?) military man's scattering of volunteer days has become a welcome surprise every time. He's always so sweet when he talks to you, throwing a friendly, "good mornin', love. Survive without me?" Carrying on easy conversation throughout the day, and occasionally something that feels like flirting, but you don't read too much into it.

He's a blessing to have. Dogs need a run? He's the first to grab their leashes. Cats' litter boxes need cleaning? He's there with a scoop in hand. The small collection of rodents' pens need a new layer of bedding? He's already headed to storage.

He comes back drenched in sweat from runs, his tank plastered to his chest. Sweaty thighs peeking out from below his shorts as he squats down to pet the happy, panting dogs. And you pass him a towel, and his smile just beams up at you. God he's adorable and hot all at once.

His arms flex against his shirt sleeves when he hefts the heavy bags of food up onto his shoulder and god if only he'd do that that you.

His hands are so gentle with the tiny new litter of cats that just came in, helping you clean them off and place them safely into the crate with their mum. need I say more

You learn more about each other. Where he's from, what he does for work, and of course you'd pinned military, but he doesn't quite go into the work that he does. He talks about the men he works with, and you start to recognize names like Price, Gaz, and Ghost. He even shows you pictures of the first two. Not the latter though.

And then another few weeks he's not there... You're starting to miss the loud Scottish voice that normally fills the space as you hose down the concrete patio in the back the shelter. Your thoughts drift to how last time you did this with him he had sprayed you very intentionally with the hose. And you nearly tackled him to wrap your soaking body around him. His hand discarding the hose and wrapping under your legs as he hoists you happily up into his arms and oh you were so close, laughing, smiling, teasing about getting soaked. You were definitely blushing as much as he was.

a couple of days later, just like he'd never left, he's back, helping you organize the larger storage closet. Sharing jokes and teasing. Until you have to reach across him and his face is so close to yours and he completes the distance, catching you oh so off guard but you melt into that kiss. and he presses and prods until your job to reorganize is interrupted by the sudden to fuck each other into the next dimension.

and then a few days later it's the same... You had simply gone to grab a new leash from the closet... he had come for a bag of dog food... or that's what he'd told you at least...

And then your bodies are close, his hand at the back of your neck, your hand travelling down and down, his mouth on yours, hot, needy, quick, and amazing. You're both happy to do it. And it seems you both don't think much of it.

This becomes a routine, in his oh too few volunteer days each month, you make a habit of occupying small, mostly private spaces of the shelter, the small break room, the storage closet, his car, your car. It's only been two or three months, and it's not like it's a big shelter, not that many employees, but damn if it doesn't excite you all the same.

And then after one of these sessions, as you're slipping you shirt on in the back of your car, he pecks a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I'll be gone a few weeks this time, bonnie. Jus' though' I might warn ya." (his accent gets thicker when it's laced with lust, you've come to notice.)

And he is, gone a while, that is. And during this time one of your old flings comes to town... some business trip... and God is this one always a good time, so charming and kind, buys you chocolates and all, a good person truly, just not one to settle down. That's fine by you. So, you let them take you home, let them in your bed, and have a good time. And then they head back to whatever the hell fancy job they have in whatever town they live in now.

It's longer than you expect before John comes back. And when he does, he greets you with that charming smile and you put him to work almost immediately, and he's happy to get to cleaning the dog kennels with you. You get to talking, he asks how your past few weeks have been. And John is so easy to talk to. And you mention your old friend you visited, how they visited your home, even bought you chocolates, the goof. But John gets quiet at this... you don't mention it, not yet...

And then of course, he walks you out to your car that afternoon and of course you end up in the back of it (I should mention here that you do not own a small car, after being the animal lover you are, you need the space to load crates in the back seat) and something about how John takes you this time is needy, needier, possesive in the way he nips at your skin and presses against you.

And at the end of it, he leaves with the same gentle peck at the corner of your mouth, but this time there's no quip, no tease, just a "drive safe" and a gentle smile...

A few days later this man returns to the shelter and before he even asks what needs to get done, he's offering up a small box of chocolates with a bashful little smile.

You thank him and accept the chocolates. and then it's back to work. That evening though, after a particularly long day after getting three new dogs and a new cat, when John walks you to your car, you ask if he wants to go home with you. You'd thought about it all day... somewhere between cleaning and intaking the new animals, mustering up the courage to ask. He accepts with that same enthusiasm that the dogs have when someone walks in with their leashes.

You wake up tangled in him, his arm slung heavy over your waist, his chest warm against your back, one leg thrown over yours like he’s actively trying to wrestle you into the mattress in his sleep. And this man sleeps light, military training and all, but the second you start shifting to sneak out of bed, his grip tightens. "Where ya goin’, love?" all rough morning voice and sleep-heavy slur, nose nudging against your shoulder like he could just sink right back into you and stay there. (You do not go anywhere.)

And things stay the same, mostly. He still only comes around every few weeks, still volunteers, still fills the shelter with that chaotic, obnoxious, charming energy. Still gets drenched in sweat from running the dogs, still lifts those massive bags of food onto his shoulders like he’s personally showing off for you (and he is), still sneaks off into the storage closet with you when no one’s looking, grinning against your mouth before pressing you up against the nearest shelf.

But then, one evening, right as you're closing up the shelter, he lingers by the front desk. Hands shoved deep in his pockets. That telltale shift of weight from foot to foot like he's got something rattling around in his skull, something he's been turning over for a while now.

"Was thinkin'..." He exhales sharply, rubs a hand over the back of his neck, looking down at his boots like they’ve got the answers. "I've gotta go again, but maybe next time I’m back, we go out somewhere. A proper date, aye?"

And fuck. That shouldn’t make your stomach flip. But it does. You should say yes. You want to say yes. But you don't.

Because life is a cruel and petty little bastard, your old fling had waltzed back into town. Just for you. A familiar, easy thing. The kind of person you don’t have to think about too much. And for some reason, you say yes when they ask you to dinner. Maybe because you don’t want to wait for something uncertain. Maybe because John is John—flirty, gorgeous, disgustingly good at making you weak in the knees, but never around long enough for you to be sure. (And John doesn't show it, not outwardly, but it breaks his heart.)

And then John comes back. Finally. And he’s not alone. There is a mountain standing next to him. Big. Broad. Dressed head to toe in dark clothes and hoodie like he’s ready for spying, the lower half of his face covered by a black medical mask. He looks like he could crush a man with one hand and still have fingers left to spare. And his eyes, dark, cold, sharp as a fucking blade, land on you like he’s personally offended by your existence. Oh. Oh, this must be Ghost.

John, completely unfazed, grins. “Ghost wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” Ghost says nothing. Just stares. (You have never felt more judged in your life. The fuck did you do to make this walking fortress glare at you like that? You know he doesn’t know. There’s no way he knows. Right?)

And things go back to normal, kind of. John keeps showing up, keeps doing his usual thing. But there’s something off this time. A shift in the way he looks at you, something quietly considering behind his eyes. It all comes to a head one evening when you’re closing up together, standing in the back room trying to fix a shelving issue. He’s quiet. You’re quiet.

And then, you break first. Spill it out like you didn’t mean to—how your old fling wasn’t what you thought, how you shouldn’t have agreed in the first place, how you let yourself get caught up in something easy instead of something real. And John? He leans back against the counter, arms crossed, listening, nodding along like he’s already pieced this all together. Until you mutter, "And I don’t even fucking like chocolate."

And that is what makes him pause. And his brows pull together. Just a little. And then, in the softest, most John way possible—"...Oh."

And the next time he walks into the shelter, it’s not with chocolates.

It’s with a small paper bag. He hands it to you with a little smirk, and inside.

Fresh strawberries. From the farmer’s stand down the road. You’d only mentioned them once. Some passing comment made one day while you were both cleaning up in the yard outside. And John had remembered. And with a charming little smile, he takes your hand. "Let me take ya out properly." And you blink up at him, caught off guard by how easy, how simple he makes it sound. "I—yeah."

And yes, you go on that date. And yes, you end up back at your place. And yes, you have a very, very good night.

And yes, eventually, John introduces you to Ghost properly. (and Price and Gaz too, ah John and Kyle.)

And yes, somehow, someway, you end up with not just one, but two terrifyingly strong military men helping out at the shelter—John still enthusiastically doing everything he can, and Ghost looming in the doing every little thing you ask without question, surprisingly good with the most feral old cats, somehow terrifying and begrudgingly helpful all at once. (He makes it a point to lift two bags of dog food for every one John carries. Jesus Christ)

And yes, eventually, Ghost ends up in your bed too.

But that’s another story.

Thanks for reading.

[goozeghost]

art block a bitch so here's a shiddy traditional doodle of a certain construct while i try to remember how to draw 😔💔😓

got some new lining pens tho so art block fears me. 🤞

[burningcheese-merchant]

Gut reaction to the CRK Pride 2025 Twitter post no lie:

In all seriousness though. I gotchu Anon #1, you can always trust me to be on top of Beast x Ancient news and Big Gay Reveals 🫡🫡🫡

Anon #2 is right though, people are getting too worked up over that tweet lol. Even if 2 of the pairs shown (EternalBerry and SeaMoon) have actual canonicity behind them, it's still just fanservice. It's a fanservice post. They did this last year, too, with Herb x Sparkling and ChiliRye and Espresseleine. Just trying to scrounge up likes on social media, it doesn't actually mean anything for canon. No sense in either throwing a rager or getting bent out of shape about it. Just smile at the ship additions you like and roll your eyes at the ones you don't and then go back to business as usual. CRK-onlys are so unbearable lol. CROB players aren't all that much better, but I feel like they've calmed down some in recent years and CRK players are just... a whole different animal. A lot of y'all are either children or have the mindset of children and it really shows loo. Living in some scary, horrifically parasocial and entitled times, indeed

I will say though. It's veeeeeerrrryyyy odd that ShadowVanilla isn't there. That ship is the new juggernaut in CRK. I actually raised my eyebrows when I saw they were missing. WildChip I understand, sure. But no ShadowVanilla? No Vanilla Milkshake? That's pretty crazy

cheesecakemermaid1048 commented on someone else's post about the Pride 2025 art saying that they heard that the English CRK social media manager hates ShadowVanilla and the art is just a big edit of the ships they personally like. Idk if that's true, but if it is, that is the funniest, most petty shit on this planet lmao

[dismas-n-dismay]

Suki - Chimera Falin amv

I present before you: The Chimera Falin Edit.

[wikiangela]

fuck it friday

another snippet of the barbecue fic (aka another snippet of buck being horny for his boyfriend lmao I swear this is a wholesome fluffy family fic haha), this is my priority now, I wanna finish it soon so send all the motivation haha <3

prev snippet

___

“Behave.” He scolds with no heat behind it.

“Mhm, yessir.” Buck purrs, his lips moving across Tommy’s bare shoulder. 

“Fuck.” Tommy breathes out and completely stills, and Buck can’t really see his face but he knows his boyfriend closed his eyes and is trying to calm down – which can’t be easy with Buck still plastered against his back. “This food is gonna burn if you keep this up. And we have guests to feed.” He adds, and as if to make a point, he flips a slightly overdone burger, Buck hindering his movements just a little bit.

Before he can respond, he hears another voice get through the chatter and music and reach his ears.

“Buck!” Chimney calls, and Buck looks over his shoulder to find everyone’s eyes on him, amused expressions on their faces. “Don’t distract our cook, we’re starving!”

“I’m just scolding him for taking his shirt off.” Buck says easily, then adds a little louder, to Tommy but making sure everyone hears, “Babe, you’re gonna burn yourself, you’re a firefighter, you should know better.” He shakes his head, and Tommy looks back at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, you’re gonna pretend like you don’t approve?”

“Oh, I so don’t, Tommy, at all.” Buck tries to keep a straight face, but a chuckle bubbles out of him anyway. “You’re such a distraction, this is dangerous for everyone here.”

“I think you’re the only one with that problem, Buckaroo.” Hen laughs, and only then Buck remembers everyone’s still paying attention to them. It’s so easy to get lost in Tommy, to feel like it’s just them, even in a crowd of people. So distracting. It’s a hazard, really. He should keep Tommy away from everyone, preferably locked in the bedroom with him, for everyone’s safety.

___

no pressure tags (lmk if you wanna be added or removed):

@dr-shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @rainbow-nerdss @pirrusstuff @bucks-daddy-issues @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazheartsbuckley @giddyupbuck @thewolvesof1998 @underwaterninja13 @your-catfish-friend @kinard-buckley @evansboyfriend @beyourownanchor6 @weewootruck @kirkaut @jewishbuckley @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @lonelychicago @bibuckkinard @spotsandsocks @bucked-it-up @theotherbuckley @drcloyd @bidisasterevankinard @hippolotamus @girlwonder-writes @perfectlysunny02 @dadbodbuck @kinkleydiaz @diazsdimples @aringofsalt

[julesnichols]

The reason I'm not very sold on divorce theory (yet) is that it makes sense for Mark to feel guilty as is? In the sense that based on the last of the flashbacks we saw and the way he told Reghabi "you think about all the things you'd do to get them back" it's clear that he and Gemma weren't in a good place and like with most things related to Gemma, Mark Scout's flashbacks in 2.07 were idealizing the memory of their relationship rather than truly remembering how it actually was and who she actually was. If that makes sense. And that glimpse in the kitchen when they decided to stop trying and the scene where Mark tore apart the crib, along with stuff that's been said/implied along the way show how their relationship ACTUALLY was by the end of it.

And so I don't know if it's necessary for him to have been getting ready to file for divorce to feel guilty, because he was already emotionally checking out. Mark avoids his emotions and his problems. Recognizing that he's checked out and filing for divorce just feels, to me, like more self awareness than I think he honestly might've had?

So I think it's likely that maybe he and Gemma were on a path to being done but I'm just not totally sold that divorce papers were imminent tbh because our boy avoids his problems until he smacks into them like a brick wall

[crispyjenkins]

mandalore the young cont.

original post/discussion here! it was just getting really long and i for one hate scrolling so far, so. here's this. have also added this au to my masterlist in my pinned post!

@malcontent-crow

#i had a whole wall of tags and it didnt save! lets try this again#i am loving this. the potential for world building and the consequences of knowing more than you should (literally)

#i had forgotten that DW wasnt in peoples thoughts as a threat during the Clan Wars#and the idea that Pre was so far underground with the movement is a very good thing to remember as well! #on one hand you have this driven and spirited young verd that is inspiring Clans to start reassessing who they are fighting and why#on the other you have this clanless outsider that knows waaaaay too much about all the potential major players and is saying#that this major threat isnt really as gone as everybody thought and hoped. sith parallels out the wahoo for ppor obi#and hes standing there watching them all argue over his head about this threat that he KNOWS needs to be dealt with#he is seeing himself as pretty on par or above with the Old Guard in terms of mental age or prowess or large scale battles#so he sees them doubt him maybe even to his face and knows he'll need to get things started on his own

#and becauae everything in the galaxay has at least one person watching it from the outside... how quickly does the news of a jedi padawan#going off the rails on this mission get out? whos keeping track and who points fingers at the jedi for attempting to control the outcome#of the war of their historical enemies in their favor? the senate (read sith) want mandalore defanged before their war but what does it look#like the jedi want? how does the council answer for his actions? do they condemn or condone him? do they try to stay out of it?

#the world building potential of the Manda and the Ka'ra is delicious.#what does it mean to be a mando or darmanda? can you walk around and have people look at you and know you have failed in your oaths?

#and ouch! Obi-Wan considering the fact that he has never been allowed to be his own person.#from padawan to knight/master and then a general and councilor and sheesh. hes really never had the chance to see who he is as a person#outside of his responsibilities to everybody around him and right now hes a war worn adult in a war worn teens body#hes always had somebody else there. as a battle companion a teacher a student as somebody to protect and guard and guide#and now he has this entire culture looking at him and waiting for his next move. and im guess it still feels like less than a burden than#the care and raising of an entire child on his own. sure he had the temple resources and other jedi to lean on but anakin always looked to#him first to solve any problem or teach him something new or cuddle him after nightmares as hes trying to hide his own dreams#and grief and flounding to find his footing as an independent adult

#so right now hes looking around at the entire mando population and realizing thats he might need to reshape himself again for somebody else#to make himself what others need and knowing he can and will do it if it means saving somebody else

#and when exactly did he come back from the war? did he have satine die in his arms and see the ruin that is madalore after a pacifist reign?#does he see the potential for that ruin to happen right now if he doesnt succeed? where does he see himself in regards to the jedi?#has he considered the consequences of stepping up to be the Mand'alor to this culture he has never seen as his own?#has he let himself think about the choices he needs to make and how some things you cant always come out the other side the same as before?

(following the trend of each of these getting longer, this has hit just under 5,000 words, so just a heads up lol? so much world building is happening in this one)

sorry you had to rewrite so much! that last exchange was cursed, it seems lmao

it's so easy to write Obi-Wan as prescient, or the route I'm going with in Dha Kar'ta, so i think it's a fun change-up to have him knowledgeable for completely different reasons! I'm actually going to avoid visions almost at all for this Obi, but everyone else certainly won't know the difference, and he doesn't tell them otherwise (though he won't encourage it either. I do actually have a Naruto time travel where Nart pretends to be psychic à la Shawn Spencer, so that isn't the route I wanna go for this Obi). the consequences of knowing too much, indeed

hmmm many of these questions depend on how deep into Jedi and galactic politics I wanna go, and I'm not sure it's very deep at all. or at least, not very dragged out. i'll explain in a mo

SO first: yes, this Obi is from after Satine dies, in 19 BBY, maybe a month or so after, but before the bombing of the Temple so before Ahsoka left the Order. He was back on the front, no time to properly mourn, though he was doing his best, and was meditating on the whole war, but especially the Sith and their hand in everything that happened on Mandalore. It went deeper than Maul, he knew, had been going on longer than Maul and even Dooku, and it occurred to Obi-Wan that the Sith either wanted a Mandalore that will side with them but not be too much a threat, or they wanted them not a threat at all. He realised his hand in that, in helping put the New Mandalorians on the throne that led to the demilitarisation of the entire sector. Obi-Wan had practically teed Mandalore up for Dooku and then Maul's interference, and if the Republic won the war, he could all too easily see them doing another excision. won't get too much into it to save it for the fic, but he is mediating with something beskar, and he gets a lil too deep into the Force, and of course this is post-Mortis so...... 👀

so this Obi-Wan, back in time, is helping Mandalore to prevent any more Sith machinations in the future, to change the future for the whole galaxy, but even before he's Chosen, he realises he's also doing all of this for Mandalore. for his own hand in its destruction, for the Jedi's hand in the Excision, for his personal connection to Satine drawing Maul to it. it's for atonement, for reparation, and also because Mandalore deserves to be saved, and Obi-Wan is in a place he can help do that. it isn't just about the health of the galaxy, anymore.

I usually shy away from having Obi-Wan leave the Order, no matter what AU I'm throwing him in because I believe in the fundamental goodness of the Order and the people in it, and Obi-Wan is fundamentally a Jedi, one of the best, one of the best. however, in this case, I don't think he can have his cake and eat it too. if Dooku had to leave the Order to accept his countship, then Obi-Wan would have to leave to become Mand'alor. Jedi are (supposed to be) politically neutral, and Obi-Wan is all too aware he'd nullified his own neutrality the moment he decided to go for Keldabe to find Jango.

one of my favorite... tropes? in time travel fic is Obi using his future fellow councilmembers' access codes to get into things he shouldn't, and he certainly knows how to work the Order's internal systems in his favor, so he

wait so i was gonna have him go in and tender his resignation from the Order directly into the systems, and backdate it for before the Mandalore mission, so that anything he's done on Mandalore so far cannot be blamed on the Jedi BUT WHAT IF he just. deletes himself. like completely. from admin to the Archives to the crèche's own internal systems to the Shadow's private servers, Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a Jedi, was never a Temple bastard, was never Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. his mission records are all in Qui-Gon's name now, his medical file simply doesn't exist, his crècheling clan is listed as simply having been a person short compared to other clans that year. he goes so far as to delete comm histories with him or mentioning him, it's like Obi-Wan Kenobi just doesn't exist anymore.

he does this first thing after leaving Jango, he spends the entire week back to Mandalore ensuring he's been completely erased from absolutely anything relating to the Jedi, and then uses his future councilmember knowledge (and lessons from Quinlan) to erase himself from Republic systems, too. any planet he'd helped as a padawan will suddenly have no records of him as having been there with his master, so the senate or Order can't subpoena them for the info, though Obi-Wan knows he can't have gotten everything (such as any planet not in the Republic, or who don't have holonet access to their files, or both, like Melida/Daan), but he figures he's done enough to absolve the Order if anyone comes knocking about what he's doing.

he buries his lightsaber in the deserts of Mandalore, not knowing that in his old future, he'd have done the same on Tatooine.

so as far as the Jedi are aware: Obi-Wan went on a mission with Qui-Gon that (predictably) went to hell, got separated from his master for weeks to months, then suddenly changed, at the same time their Jedi with the highest prescience collapsed due to his visions, which have also changed. Obi-Wan left Qui-Gon behind to hightail it through the Mandalore sector, and Qui-Gon couldn't catch up or find him, and then Obi-Wan disappeared from anyone's radars for two weeks. then Qui-Gon senses him reenter the Mandalore system, right before breaking his training bond with him, and the Order wakes up to Obi-Wan completely erased from their systems like he never existed in the first place. everything is going so so wrong, and yet. and yet.

and yet the Force is telling them all that this is right, that this is the least Dark course of action, that whatever Obi-Wan is doing is indeed the Will of the Force

so the Order mourns one of their own, and tells Qui-Gon to let him go. and then the Order ups their cyber security because what.

i think he leaves an unsigned letter/comm message for a few people. Bant, Quinlan, Mace, Feemor, his old crèchemaster, Yoda, maybe Jocasta Nu. it's short, basically thanking them for their hand in his upbringing (Feemor hasn't even met him before so is very confused by this), apologising for leaving abruptly, but to follow the Will of the Force, he had to leave; the first part of the message is all the same, but ends with little individual notes. he apologises to Madam Nu for fucking with her archives and hopes she can one day forgive him; he asks her to keep her friends close and to mend the tension between her and Dooku, that Obi-Wan should not know about. He tells Yoda that the future is always in motion but they must move with it; he asks Yoda to meditate on his dwindling lineages and learn to accept all that he cannot control. He reminds Quinlan to wear his gloves and asks him to thank Tholme for looking out for him when Qui-Gon wouldn't or didn't; he thanks him for their years together, and asks him to check in on Feemor every now and then. He apologises to Mace for all the shatter-points he likely caused and will continue to cause, and suggests he put a permanent reminder in his comm to remember to refill his migraine prescription that sixteen year-old Obi should not know about. He asks Bant to look out for a young Togruta initiate that will join in seven years, and suggests Bant might like the healer track rather than the knight corps; he thanks her for being his longest and most dearly-held friend. He thanks his crèchemaster for realising his visions were more than dreams (which will inadvertently lend credence to that theory for why Obi-Wan changed so suddenly), for supporting him when Bruck was at his nastiest, and for always being someone he could turn to even after he became a padawan. For Feemor, Obi-Wan apologises that they hadn't had the chance to meet before then, and for the relationship they won't have anymore; Feemor has no idea who this message is from, until he starts hearing the gossip that Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Order again. He too mourns never getting to know his padawan brother.

and Obi-Wan sends Qui-Gon a message, of course, thanking him for his teachings, apologising for "leading him on" as an apprentice, leaving and coming back so many times only to permanently leave this time. he reminds Qui to reach out to his friends and his support system, asks him to at least consider talking to a mind or soul healer about Xanatos (knowing that once it gets out that Obi-Wan is a planetary leader, it will likely badly trigger Qui-Gon), and asks him to at least try and mend his relationship with Dooku, though understands if that's not something Qui-Gon is willing to do. asks him to keep Satine safe, but to deeply think about why the Republic is so intent on helping her faction, and why Qui-Gon had questioned so little of the New Mandalorian ethos.

so by the time Obi-Wan finds the Old Guard, he's broken from the Order completely, has buried his saber, has broken his training bond, has cut his braid. I think he shaves his head entirely to let it grow out at the same rate, because the padawan cut is *Eliot Spencer voice* Very Distinctive. he paints his armour white for, yes, his men, his vod'e, but also for cin vhetin. he can't be the man he was before, nor the teen he was before, neither are who Mandalore needs, and as long as he can stay true to his morals and upbringing, he will be what Mandalore needs him to be.

okay now onto the Manda vs. the Ka'ra vs. the Force. the Force is a scientific concept of an energy connecting absolutely everything in the universe, and the Jedi have a religious view on the scientific concept. for both purposes, the Force just is. I really like the idea of other non-Jedi ideas just being different aspects of the Force, different religions and cultures based on the same scientific concepts. for Mandalorians, their "aspect" of the Force is the Manda, the collective souls of every Mando'ade that's ever marched on. just what it means to be Mando'ade has varied greatly through history, and is varied between different groups even now, but none of that changes what the Manda is, which is an aspect of the Force only Mando'ade can touch. sort of like their beliefs of it being separate from the Force have made it so?

now I haven't really talked about this before, but from the beginning of me writing Mandalorian related things, i've separated Ka'ra from ka'ra, which was a little bit me misremembering there was another term for "stars", and then it became it's own thing. kar, meaning "star", with it's plural kar'e or kare, to me, means physical stars, the way we'd call our sun a star. ka'ra, uncapitalised, is the more poetic and/or spiritual "stars", the way we might say something is "written in the stars", which actually aligns with how jate'kara is spelled; for my writing, i've used this form for Mandalorian Force-sensitives being Star-touched ka'ra-touched. Ka'ra, capitalised, is that "ruling council of fallen kings", the Mandalorian myth and it, the way I've always interpreted it, is a separate part of the Manda made up of specifically the souls of every Mand'alor already marched on. So, Tor Vizsla could have joined the Manda after death, but not the Ka'ra; make sense? all that ka'ra vs Ka'ra worldbuilding was done very early in my writing for star wars, and has since expanded to include the idea of the Manda as something separate, and I would now actually consider Manda-touched over Star-touched to describe Force sensitive Mando'ade, because that's really what I think Mandalorians would consider causes their supernatural powers: ancestors rather than the stars.

so what does that mean for this fic? the Manda is directly influenced by all those that consider themselves Mandalorian, Force-sensitive or not. it is, however, not affected by New Mandalorians, unless they worship the Manda in some facsimile, and I think many, many, many do not, not the way they were raised to. this worship looks different for every clan and every individual, and I've always interpreted it as more of a broad spiritual practice across the whole culture rather than a religion, per se, the way a real-world broader culture might pray at shrines at New Years even if individuals themselves or their family aren't religious. this is what I'm referencing when I say the Will of the People: the alive Mando'ade and their choices and emotions affecting and influencing the Manda, the collective amalgamation of every passed-on Mando'ade, and it's when these two are in tandem that they "pick" a Mand'alor. HOWEVER, such a pick is also up to the Ka'ra, the Mand'alor'e that have all marched on; to one day enter the Ka'ra themselves, a Mand'alor must be "picked" by both the People/the Manda, and the Ka'ra. Tor would be "picked" by a significant part of the People and the Manda, and so would Jaster have been, but (according to me, myself, and i, obviously), only Jaster had been chosen by the Ka'ra. Pre is "Mand'alor" only in name, only in a tenuous loyalty existing in House Vizsla and Death Watch, not even by the Manda; just simple human (et al) loyalty. Jango had a weaker "pick" from the Manda than Jaster did, but was picked by the Ka'ra, meaning if he did not declare himself dar'manda (even just internally; I don't think he's ever said it out loud), he would have joined the Ka'ra after death; if he ever reconnects with himself as a Mandalorian, I like to think he'd have that chance again. Canon Jango, though, who went on to make the clones? Absolutely not.

what does this all mean for Obi-Wan? he'd spent weeks inadvertently drumming up support in the people and therefore the Manda, and maybe most haven't really looked at him and thought "sure I'd follow him as Mand'alor", but they have looked at him and thought "that one has mandokar, that one wants what's best for Mandalore, that one is touched by destiny". I dunno, man, like. Obi-Wan is their hope before he is their leader. That will make all the difference when he does end up uniting them. His searching out Jango had made Jango finally confront that he feels dar'manda, until then he hadn't really lost the Ka'ra's support, but that severs that connection. and now the Ka'ra are without a Mand'alor, but look at that, there's a mandokar'la little idiot right there, already strong in the Manda, already rallying hope and purpose, already so invested in the nurturing and the future of Mandalore, how could the Ka'ra not choose him?

I posed the question previously whether or not Mando'ade can tell who has been chosen to be Mand'alor, and I think I've ironed out what that'll mean for this fic. non-Force sensitive Mando'ade will have this sense when near their Mand'alor, a subconscious and inherent trust in them, and indeed, some will be disturbed by this and fight it. that's alright, that's their right. Some never clock this extra sense, some are aware of it always, some just chalk it up to "gut feelings" and the like. The more spiritual or religious Mandos maybe put a little more stock in this feelings, I think especially goran'e and other spiritual leaders, but the fact that the Manda can technically pick more than one person at a time (like Tor and Jaster, and then Jango), this extra sense isn't a perfect indicator of a properly chosen Manda'lor.

now. what about Force sensitive Mando'ade? Well, the Manda is an aspect of the Force, and is in fact how said Force sensitive Mando'ade connect to the Force, by going through the Manda, first. their relationship with sensitivity is inherently different from others in the galaxy, at least those that connect to it directly. they are the ones that can sense or see if someone is chosen by the Ka'ra, depending on their sensitivity. Some see the ghostly line of previous Mand'alor'e stretched out behind them (like the Avatar cycle lmao), some see a wavering crown of stars around their head, some just sense there is a duplicity (/neutral) to their Force presence that doesn't exist in anyone else. how common is Force sensitivity in Mandalorian space? not fuckin very. Jaster had three in his entire faction of aprox. 2 million (fanon number), at least that were aware they were sensitive. Jango only had a few more, and only because he had gained a couple hundred thousand more followers before Galidraan. so i'll make the nearly-arbitrary number that Force sensitive Mandos are 1 in 1,000,000, across the entire sector. by some calculations, in the whole galaxy at around the time of the Clone Wars the number of Force sensitives is 1 in 5,000,000 but these calculations do not generally include societies and species with a near or 100% chance of Force sensitivity, because we simply don't have the data for it. does this all make Mandos slightly more likely to be Force sensitive than others, by my own numbers? sorta. which i'm making an issue of underreporting, based on Mandalore not being a part of the Republic, and also contention with the Jedi and Sith; they don't consider those Manda-touched to be Force sensitive, and with the way I've built this, they aren't exactly wrong.

for the purposes of this story, there are maybe eight Manda-touched Mando'ade in the Mandalore system at this time, and all but one are goran'e. that single non-armorer is part of the Old Guard. I have the roster for the Old Guard decided, so I'm debating whether the Manda-touched one is Cort Davin (a journeyman protector), or one of the women. Instinct wants Vhonte Tervho, but I have plans for her to be related to the goran Obi-Wan got his armour done by, who I wanted to be one of the seven Force sensitive armorers, soooo. lmao how fucked would it be if Isabet Reau is the Force sensitive one? I like the angst of that, since I definitely do not plan on redeeming her, but I kind of want the only Old Guard that can sense Obi-Wan is Chosen by the Ka'ra to be really quiet and accepting of it, while everyone else is arguing. hmmm I have an unnamed Wren as part of the Guard, that I haven't fleshed anything out for yet; perhaps them?

okay I think I've solidified what it makes a Mandalorian, at least for the function of this fic. it is tied to the Resol'nare, and following it, which does allow those who had Chosen Tor Vizsla as their Mand'alor to technically still be following the Resol'nare, and are therefore not dar'manda. at least not for that. but part of the reason the Resol'nare is even able to determine who has a Mandalorian soul, is because they believe it does. Those alive and those dead influence the functionality and reality of the Manda, which also allows for those pre-Resol'nare to still exist in the Manda. What causes someone to become dar'manda, if they are technically following the Resol'nare?

maybe it's reductive, or over-simplified, or maybe even too broad, but it makes sense to me and allows for many many different types of people to still fail, and this is obviously not the only way to become dar'manda, but one thing that will always strip someone of their Mando soul? treatment of children. caring for children. not harming children. this allows many of Death Watch to still maintain their Mando souls, but still be fucked up awful people in other ways. It allows even True Mandalorians to have lost their souls and not realised it because they otherwise adhered to the Resol'nare, because they'd chosen to interpret "defending oneself and family" and "raising your children as Mandalorians" to not include other peoeple's children. Or maybe they were abusive in the belief they were caring for their children. This would also make every single one of the Cuy'val Dar dar'manda, which I think is a fascinating concept.

to answer your question directly, no, one cannot look at someone and know they're dar'manda, even the Force/Manda sensitive ones. one will only know in death, whether or not they have a place in the Manda.

NOW what does this mean for New Mandalorians?? well, by technicality and the way I've set the Manda up, one can interpret the Resol'nare in ways that could align with New Mandos. Perhaps they interpret "armour" as more than specifically "beskar'gam", maybe they wear armourweave or other protective fabrics. Maybe they interpret "defending one's family" as putting down arms instead of raising them, in order to create a peaceful future for their children. I think there are plenty of New Mandos that technically tick off all the boxes, and believe in themselves and their fellows so much that the Manda is like "yeah sure why not, we'll make that count". I think some tenants are more easily... bent, like swearing to the duchy in place of the Mand'alor, but I think an easy one New Mandos miss, is "speak Mando'a." I think many New Mandos were all too quick to switch to Basic for everything except religious and spiritual ceremonies, and I think those already in the Manda would find that very hard to forgive. I actually get into this a little in Dha Kar'ta very soon, but for this fic, i'll have Satine not outright outlawing Mando'a, but it is socially heavily discouraged. you're not allowed to speak it in the palace unless in aforementioned ceremonies, you cannot fill out paperwork in anything but Basic, you're not allowed to use Mando'a titles (including Mand'alor), you're not allowed to teach it to your children. no outright like. punishments for speaking it in public, but if your kids are caught, there are repercussions, including investigation into how else you're raising your kids, and if you're found to be doing anything else, they can take your kids from you. not every New Mando agrees with this, of course, and go about adhering to the Resol'nare as best they can in secret, but so many do give up the language by convincing themselves it's not as important as the other tenants and, well, the duchy hasn't steered them all wrong yet, has it?

okay so on the subject of what the outside galaxy is seeing. I like the headcanon/trope/idea of like. the one thing all factions of Mandalorians agreeing on is fuck everyone else. oh, the New Mandos will emulate the Core and the Republic, but they aren't the Republic nor want to be, and this animosity extends to keeping as many internal Mandlorian issues just that: internal. no faction can keep news from leaving the system or the sector, obviously, but there also isn't a lot of interest in Mandalorian news? "oh look all the Mandos are fighting again", except that's been the standard for like. actual thousands of years. I like when fic have people outside the sector not evening knowing there are different factions, so I'll be doing that here, too, and I like the idea of non-Republic sectors having their own holonets, separate from the Republic one. so like, if Obi-Wan happens to go a little viral during his mad dash to Keldabe, that would be on the Mandalorian holonet, not the Republic one, so even if Obi-Wan was visibly still a Jedi (and he wasn't), actual news of him wouldn't reach the Mid and Inner Rims until like. possible years after it happens.

could this maybe be expedited by Sith machinations? absolutely, though I'm not sure I want to go that route, since I don't think the Sith are overmuch interested in Mandalore at this point, at least not in any hands-on capacity. I'm unclear on whether them funding Death Watch is fanon or not, but it is a headcanon I subscribe to, and I think they'd have stopped funding DW after Galidraan, to cause worse infighting and prevent DW from gaining enough power to actually restart their imperial conquering days. Palpatine has been senator for about ten years by this point, but has very little political power overall, and Demask would be looking basically anywhere but Mandalore at this point in time, both of them having written it off until they actively need something from the sector. if anyone had clocked Obi-Wan as a Jedi, this all would have gone very differently, news would have spread much further and quicker and I think undoubtedly would have reached Palpatine, but since I have Obi-Wan just... cutting ties to anything Jedi, news of him remains in-sector. is this perhaps unrealistic? maybe, but I kind of want to focus on Mandalore and not worry about galactic-wide politics for once, lmao, actually very much like Obi-Wan is doing. however, he will clock a lack of Sith interference and thinks That's Very Weird.

haven't decided how he finds Palpatine out yet, but I think it'll have to do with his Manda senses being different than his Force ones, maybe the Ka'ra even gives him a few tips or gifts to sense Sith since they've allied and fought with them so much in the past. regardless, that'll be after he's become Mand'alor and united the clans.

now to actual plot progression! Obi-Wan meets up with the Old Guard, they don't know what to make of him other than "he's kriffing weird. and young. and creepy. and probably Manda-touched." whatever other verd is Manda-touched will see him blessed by the Ka'ra, which causes them to look inwards more closely and realise they trust Obi-Wan inexplicably, which means they're blessed by the Manda and the Will of the People, too. they wonder if Obi-Wan has noticed, if any of the other Old Guard have noticed. they are one of a few that notice Obi-Wan sneaking back out while everyone is arguing.

Vhonte Tervho is another. She's at this lil summit to represent clan Tervho, tho isn't the clan head, because her ba'vodu, a Manda-touched goran, had sensed she needed to be at the summit. said ba'vodu is of course the armorer who reforged Obi-Wan's armour (need to find a name for them hmm), who had told their clan they were to cease fighting until their new Mand'alor called on them. Vhonte sees Obi-Wan, realises at the same time as everyone that he's the Kih'Manda, the Mand'ika that the entire system had been gossiping about for weeks, and she thinks of what her ba'vodu said. she looks inwards, like they had taught her to, and finds, yes, she trusts Obi-Wan, just like she used to trust Jango. And, well, her Mand'alor is obviously leaving to go do something, and she isn't going to let him go it alone.

the Manda-touched verd doesn't go with them, wanting to see what comes of this, but they already know Obi-wan is Ka'ra Chosen. they will come when he calls.

[cankersoregirl]

I was afraid I’d lose him. So I got there late. And… as I entered, I saw him about to take pictures by himself. The first thing that I felt was… I wanted to hug him. No matter how bad I was to him, he’s still there for me. Every time that I’ve fallen or torn apart, he always runs up to me. He’ll come running and hug me. The same goes for this time, where he shows up. Am I happy? I’m really delighted. I really am. I’d like to thank Save for always being by my side till this very day.

DMD Friendship the Reality: It Takes Two EP. 5

[nachobsns]

anyway i have to give a presentation for my ap gov final tomorrow which originally was just going to be about the effect of conspiracy theories on political activity (think qanon, jan 6 etc) but i ended up putting it off until tonight, predictable because i'm 17 with roblox on my phone and haven't taken my adhd meds for a long time, but it means i have much more liberty to change the premise last-minute and considering the horrifying news out of colorado today i think i am going to adapt it to cover the overlap of conspiracy theories with antisemitism and the pipeline to like. radical extremism. it probably won't go over especially well with my classmates because Room Full Of Sheltered White Upper Middle Class Teenagers From An Overwhelmingly Liberal Small Town Has Exactly The Opinions On Israel/Palestine That You Might Expect, but the teacher at least worked in israel for several years as a part of her thesis so i know worst comes to worst she will back me up and also? we are literally 5 days from the end of the year i'm scared but so is like every jewish person in the world right now so i am choosing not to give a shit about what my classmates think. wish me luck

[scarapanna]

Some quick Shilk doodle with messy shading to practice a tad bit

Not really doing anything in particular these days, figured I should practice my anatomy a little since I can be a bit nit picky.

Don't really like how flat my bases before I put clothing and hair in there look sometimes, so we gotta fix that/silly

I'm actually pretty happy with this one, had fun figuring things out here

[mamawasatesttube]

literally batfanon would be such a non-issue if the people making it could just tag their stuff with like #batfanon or something, so that those of us who dislike it could simply blacklist that and move on with our lives. unfortunately instead they insist on putting it in all the comics tags because they claim comics are a) so inconsistent it doesn't matter, b) full of bigotry so their version is better (...as if they didn't just reinvent a bunch of racial stereotypes, but that's another post), c) too hard to get into so no one should be expected to and everyone who does read them is a gatekeeper, d) basically fanfiction themselves so you don't need to care what they say, etc., and so here we are. alas!!

[burningcheese-merchant]

Me make chart while at dentist office because bored

Explain below cut

OTP: no I will not explain. You should know by now. You can pry these five from my cold, heads hands. And even then I'll just crawl out of my grave and curse/haunt you for eternity

Love: I will always have a big soft spot for HollyCacao, even if I like MysticCacao and EternalBerry more

Like: (you open the box and are instantly greeted by a dust cloud. As you swat it away and struggle to breathe, you notice that the box is empty, save for a single lonely cobweb draped over one corner)

OK: I don't really ship CacaoLily but I can see the sentiment a bit. It's the only other Ancient x Ancient pair I can (potentially) get behind tbh

Platonic: I do not like any of the Ancients with each other (minus the two aforementioned pairs, and again, CacaoLily still isn't it for me), nor do I like any of the Beasts with each other. They just don't work imo. The Ancients have a strong camaraderie/found family thing and the Beasts... had something like that once, maybe. But not as strong. I see some Beasts as having been closer to one another than with the other ones, like Shadow and Sugar or Spice and Salt. Overall though, whatever they had just couldn't take the strain of their responsibilities and issues and they want each other dead in the present day

NOTP: I am famous for my ShadowSp1ce allergy, we can't be in the same room or I'll break out in hives. ShadowLily is broken at its foundation, Shadow Milk canonically hates White Lily, all they have in common is being smart, they clash in every other way. PureSpice is, as respectfully as possible, fujo gooner shit (no shade to fans, all shade to ship itself). BurningCacao simply does not work, they do not make sense together in any way, they would be each other's least favorite person in canon. BurningSugar or Eternalspice or whatever it's called gives me the ick for some reason, even past them canonically hating each other. Thumbs all the way down, leave my presence

Orange: While I do not like these ships, I acknowledge that I've seen very good and charming fan content for them, and so I owe them that one thumbs up if nothing else at all

[viperwhispered]

Too Hard

Woop part 2 of the trip inside Jamil's head. Part 1 here.

The next time Jamil caught sight of you on campus, his first instinct was to turn around on his heel.

What a stupid thought to have because of you.

Besides, that would only make him more conspicuous, not less.

So, when your eyes met his, Jamil gave you a short nod in greeting. He would’ve left it at that and kept on his way, had you not walked up to him.

“Hi Jamil! How’s it going?” you said with that impossibly disarming smile of yours.

Why was it so difficult to look at you like he normally would? You had no right to make him feel so stiff, so unnatural.

On autopilot, Jamil exchanged a few pleasantries with you - those lessons from his parents had been instilled too deep in him for him to falter too badly in a simple exchange such as this. Still, Jamil quickly excused himself by telling you he still had to find Kalim before his next class.

Jamil didn’t miss the way your smile faltered. Had you hoped to get something out of him?

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you two later, then.”

Something about that irked him, though Jamil did not allow himself to dwell on it further.

His heart really had no business still racing as it did when he walked away, unaware of the frown on his face.

Just act normal. That’s all he needed to do.

After all, he had no time for dwelling in silly fancies.

If Jamil had been acutely aware of you before, it only seemed to worsen now that he was making a conscious effort to not act any differently with you. In fact, the harder he tried to keep you out, the more you invaded his thoughts, unsettling him.

The most innocuous words from you looped in his mind, and even the simplest actions caught his eye. For goodness's sake, he’d found himself staring at you while you were queueing up in the cafeteria the other day, not even doing anything other than standing around and looking bored!

For once, Jamil found himself grateful for all his duties. At least they provided him with something else to occupy himself with.

After all, if he was busy enough, it was difficult to think about those bright eyes of yours, your sweet laugh, or the way you bit your lip while thinking.

Still, sometimes it felt like no matter which way he turned, you were there, ready to throw him off-kilter. Not like it was his fault that often the most convenient route to class intersected with your daily routines. Or that your face seemed to jump out from any crowd, catching his attention.

Which certainly did not help his basketball performance. Jamil certainly did not recall you having such an interest in sports before, yet suddenly you were always there, distracting him. What had changed?

Could you possibly-

Jamil scoffed to himself, forcing his thoughts back on track for the nth time that day.

He picked up the tray of food and started taking it to Kalim. After dinner, he’d need to help Kalim with his homework, there were some housewarden tasks that would need dealing with, not to mention the preparations for the next-

Jamil froze in his tracks.

The voice he heard was quiet, but it was unmistakably you.

Really, it should not have come as such a surprise to him. You had become a rather frequent visitor to Scarabia, and Kalim often invited you to stay for meals. In fact, Jamil had started planning the dorm’s meal prep with your tastes and dietary restrictions in mind, just in case.

Jamil rounded the corner with strange exhilaration, his heart fluttering needlessly.

Yet, his mood evaporated when he saw you.

Why did you stop talking and look so guilty as soon as you caught sight of Jamil?

Jamil knew that look you gave to Kalim, had used it himself a thousand times. The one telling Kalim to keep quiet about something.

What could there possibly be that you would be comfortable sharing with Kalim, but not with him? That would give Kalim reason to sit so close to you, a comforting hand on your shoulder?

Jamil's mind raced with possibilities, yet could not settle for any single explanation.

He’d have to ask Kalim about it later.

Jamil gave you a short, polite greeting, his eyes lingering on you in an attempt to read what you were hiding.

“If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve prepared something for you to eat as well,” Jamil said, already thinking about which parts of the dorm’s dinner to spruce up for you.

“Oh, no need, just figured I’d pop by. I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” you said, something sheepish about your expression.

As expected, Kalim asked you to stay and dine with them, and with just a bit more persuasion you agreed - though not before telling Jamil that he should join you too and have himself a breather.

And since Kalim agreed with you, Jamil soon found himself sharing a meal with you and Kalim. Yet, even as he sat down with the food, his mind raced.

Had you been getting particularly close to Kalim lately? But surely Jamil would’ve noticed such a thing. Maybe someone from the dorm had been giving you trouble? But if that was the case, then surely you could let Jamil know about it, too. Unless for some reason you did not want to? But if it was something that concerned Kalim, then sooner or later it was bound to concern Jamil, too.

All the while, Kalim was talking to you about this and that, the latest topic being the animals kept on the Asim estate.

“I’ve got some pictures, let me show you!” Kalim said with an excited grin.

Only, a thorough patting of his pockets and a look around confirmed that Kalim’s phone was nowhere to be seen.

Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. Where had Kalim left it this time?

Before Jamil even had the chance to say that he would handle it, Kalim sprinted off. Jamil hesitated for a moment, automatically halfway up from his seat, before he decided that leaving a guest unattended would be a worse offense than not helping out his master.

Jamil slumped back down with a sigh, mentally tracing the path Kalim took today, trying to recall the last time he saw Kalim handle his phone.

“Breathe. He’ll manage,” you said. There was the faintest of smiles on your lips, and Jamil could not decide if it was knowing or amused. Perhaps both.

Somehow, despite his frustration, Jamil’s own lips wanted to curl up too.

“Hmm. Maybe he will.”

Sure, Jamil could’ve called Kalim’s phone, to make it easier to find, but it was not that urgent, was it?

Jamil took another bite of his food, keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye.

How was his mind so empty and so buzzing at the same time?

“You know-”

“So-”

You looked at each other, both just as surprised that the other had spoken up at the same time.

Even your surprised look was so-

“You first,” Jamil said. The way you bit your lip... Jamil had to raise a cup to his lips, slowly sipping his drink.

“Just… Feels like it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you be still, you know. Or exchanged more than two words with you,” you said. You were attempting a light, joking tone, yet it was quite clear there was more to it.

“You say that like it would be unusual for me to be busy.”

He was not prepared for the way your soft sigh tugged at his heartstrings.

“No. It is not.”

You were both quiet after, poking at your meals. Normally, Jamil would’ve cherished such a moment of peace, yet this particular silence between you two was decidedly awkward.

Where was your usual chatter? Why weren’t you looking at him like you usually did?

“If you’re worried about me, don’t. I’m fine,” Jamil said, some softness creeping into his tone despite his best intentions.

“That's what Kalim said too,” you said. Yet the way you looked at Jamil made it clear you were still skeptical.

Wait.

Had you clammed up earlier because it had been Jamil you had been talking about with Kalim? That Kalim had comforted you about?

The thought twisted his stomach into knots.

Eta: you can find part 3 here, part 4 here, and finally part 5 here. Hasdhfsdf the way I fought with that last scene I swear. I don't even want to know how many versions I went through, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted without rubbing it into your face or making it too veiled. The joys of trying to convey things through a limited pov. Hopefully it came out reasonably balanced in the end. Rip to all those sentences that were lovely on their own but didn’t work for the whole. Hopefully I can rehome y’all one day. I do have thoughts for part 3 and part x (might be some chapters between those two as well, who knows at this point), so maybe we'll see those at some point, too. Tag list: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist @twstgo If you'd like to be tagged for future works, let me know! (Just be aware that sometimes I do also write nsfw, though you can certainly ask to be tagged only for particular kinds of works.)

[bluevaractyl]

Woooo LU update! "Entrance"

Looks like we were right, the dungeon is the same one Twilight chased the Shadow through. Even in this earlier time, it's apparently a ruin. I have lots of questions about the nature and origin of the dungeons in LoZ. Warriors calls them "old tombs," and Legend echoes this with "Hyrule's tombs." Was that the original purpose of most of them? Or are they just referring to the way many dungeons are dark, dank, underground, and/or haunted by undead creatures? Interesting word choice.

I am very curious about what Hyrule is referring to. Is he aware that some of the items he has found belonged to the hero before him (Legend)? Which ones? The handy/power glove? Power bracelet? Red and blue rings? Is the headcanon that Legend made Hyrule's dolls going to be made canon?? (Also I love their expressions, especially Wind's.)

Love the mention of monsters unique to dungeons! I am so excited to see more. Hyrule is absolutely correct, wallmasters are gross and very annoying. The skulltula was very creepy. Good job, Jojo.

Their reactions here are interesting. Legend is unfazed, shield out but holding steady. Wild, on the other hand, is stumbling out of the way with an expression I cannot put words to, but which appears on my face when I find a spider on the ceiling at 2 am. He has not encountered giant man-eating spiders in his travels and it shows. Also, the return of Time's bow! He is a pretty good shot for missing an eye. I wonder if he had to learn to adjust his aim. Shooting down skulltulas in dungeons is probably taking him back to his own adventures. Maybe not so good memories.

Legend's little prank with the scarf is cementing my realization that he and Warriors really do like to mess with each other. It is also making me wonder if monsters are ever going to do the same. @w1lmuttart made an art pointing out how the Links' attire could be used against them. Yikes!

Twilight is very much on Time's mind. He's worried. I like the detail of Wind in that panel too, since Time has been growing closer to him as they've discovered their connection. It's also easy to see the family resemblance in Time and Twilight's expressions and features here. Warriors makes a good call, but Time knows "it's dangerous to go alone." I wonder how they will end up splitting up.

All images from @linkeduniverse "Entrance"

[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.

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