#THAT'S soulmates y'all

[seijorhi]

the idea of oikawa not being ready when he meets his soulmate.

it isn't that he thinks you're not good enough, not pretty enough, not right for him, it's just that oikawa wasn't expecting to find you so soon.

soulmates are forever, you'll be there waiting for him when all's said and done, but his career in volleyball – it won't be. he's young, fit and hungry for it; in his absolute prime, but if he doesn't put in the effort now, give it everything, 100% of what he has... it'll slip right through his fingers.

he can't risk that.

there's a strange sort of desperation that tugs at his chest when he tries to explain, to get you to understand it. it's a sacrifice you'll both be making for the sake of the career he's dreamed of his whole life.

the way your smile slowly slips away when you realise he's not asking for you to be patient and give him grace when his focus is more on volleyball than you, he's saying he can't have you around at all, because you will distract him.

he'd lose himself in you.

it's not forever, he stresses, only a little while. you're perfect, and in a year or two when he's more settled in his role, the starting setter on the right team, heading to the championships, he'll be there to give you everything you deserve. no – more. he'll make it up to you, all he's asking for (but he's not really asking, is he) is a bit of time and space.

the light dims in your eyes, a strange, glassy look taking over, and slowly, so fucking slowly, you pull your hands from his, let them fall weakly to your side. it takes a monumental effort to not snatch them back up.

'yeah, okay.'

the expression on your face is all wrong, your voice almost robotic, but oikawa knows it's the right thing. you'll forgive him, because that's what soulmates do. you'll forgive him and then fall even more in love with him and oikawa will spend every damn day showering you in the love and affection he can. he'll drown you in it.

just give him this. let him give everything to volleyball, before he shares himself with you.

—

you're a little too good at it.

it's harder than he expected, going no contact. he was the one who wanted it – needed it, really, for this to work – but there'd been a small part of him that sort of hoped you'd ignore what he wanted and reach out anyway. he'd imagined sneaking a quick peek at his phone during a water break to see a message from you, something simple, casual, a 'hope things are good!' or 'i caught some of the game last week'. was it unfair of him to want you keeping track of him? to see how far he'd come in the days, weeks, months since he'd asked for time?

it's like an itch under his skin, and it grows. a few of his new teammates have met their soulmates, carry the marks to show for it. they're all smug as fuck about it, but the thing is whenever their soulmates are watching from the stands, they play with a different kind of fire. they're better. envy burns watching them celebrate afterwards, all hungry kisses and smiles too fucking big.

he knows you'd be there too if you could. you'd be there every damn game, all of their practices too, cheering him on. his biggest fan.

it's an ache. he goes home to an empty apartment, better than the one he had when he met you, in a nicer part of town, but no less lifeless. there's no one to welcome him home, to wrap him up in a hug, kiss him how he likes and soothe away the days stresses. no one to warm his bed, no other pussy'll ever be as tempting as yours.

i miss you.

i'm thinking of you.

would it kill you to break his rules and reach out every now and then? to give him some kind of sign that this distance was driving you half as crazy as it was him?

are you trying to punish him?

it occurs to him that you probably don't have his phone number. it shouldn't have stopped you, because it wouldn't've stopped him.

—

the first time he tries to follow your instagram you block his account.

it's irritating, until he remembers that you're probably trying to abide by his rules. he can't exactly get mad at you for that, tries not to, and instead does what any sane man missing his soulmate would do; creates a fake account, steals a picture from one of his sister's friends and uses that as his profile pic – even goes so far as to follow a bunch of your friends’ accounts too, just so it doesn't look suspicious or weird when he follows you too.

and for a little while, it's enough. he can see what you're up to, who you're hanging out with, where you're going. he'll watch all your stories, your friends’ stories, just for a few seconds of you.

(maybe strokes his cock to a few of them, cums in his sheets gasping your name.)

you're being patient, he's being good, it's only for a few more months, he can last a little longer–

there's a new post on your insta, a snap of you and some asshole with his arm wrapped around your waist, your lips pressed to his cheek.

'Happy six months, love you a little more every day!'

[chinzhilla]

You and him were probably soul mates in a past life.

[zarnzarn]

okay okay I'm DEVASTATED BUT ALSO HERES ALL THE LORE THINGS STOLAS MENTIONED CAUSE IM A SLUT FOR THAT SHIT:

"an oath by blood to hold the tome" bro they bloodbound a child?? but also DAMN what's in that grimoire? also is that the grimoire has it been updated? and is stolas like,, tied to the book??? HELLO???

"starlight feeds all the skills I've honed" guys this is the best day of my life I was RIGHT he CAN READ THE STARS. IM SO EXCITED ABT THIS. IM GOING TO BE SO INSUFFERABLE ABT IT

"I am a guardian, a watcher of these ancient rites" HELLO. HELLO???? ARE YALL SEEING THIS.

"yet i find myself drawn from that path" hey how much of the future can you see....

DEAREST I KNOW BETTER NOW I MUST GIVE YOU THIS CHOICE

"a deed we forged for mutual gain" thank the fucking stars if I had to hear ONE more brainless take on it not being consensual i think I was going to start beating people up

okay but the gold blitz constellation is BEAUTIFUL HOLY SHIT

SCORNED BY A REALM WHO CANNOT COMPREHEND WHAT YOU ARE

EXCUSE THE FUCK OUT OF ME WHO ALLOWED . WHAT THE FUCK.

damn okay so did the contract bind their souls together??? most likely but if there was something stolas saw in the future regarding their fate im gonna-

the yellow water animation is the most beautiful thing I've seen on screen all year

I'll save us both before we both grow cold.....

[nartml]

was it casual when i had a panic attack at the thought of you dying was it casual when you risked your entire carrier just to feed me lunch was it casual when you were willing to die protecting me even though you wouldn't accomplish any of the goals you devoted yourself to was it casual when i spent so many nights rolling around in deep thought about whether you think of me like i do about you was it casual when i wished for you upon a shooting star was it casual when i refused to let you continue your way down a path of self-destructive loneliness even though you wanted me to was it casual when you needed to kill me and only me to grow stronger and be entirely untethered from your past but you just couldn't was it casual when i preferred to bear your pain and hatred and die fighting you as opposed to giving up on you was it casual when i could trade blows with you (read your heart) even though your supposed wife couldn't was it casual when i was your one and only was it casual when the hands that we blew off of each other bore the evidence of our cosmic connection was it casual when you cried your first tears of relief and happiness after you lost to me was it casual when you kept in touch with me but not with your wife was it casual when we fought and laughed and became inseparable was it casual when i can't exist without you was it casual when i put all my goals on hold because how could i focus on them when i can't even save you was it casual when you were my main motivation for training to become infinitely stronger was it casual when i'd remain a fool my entire life if being smart meant that i had to give up on you was it casual when you know my heart i yours was it casual when

[liumango]

i may be laughing but on the inside i'm crying

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

Alright, I know some people think that Harry will be down bad/have a crush on Tom first or some thinks it'll be Tom; but I feel like it's neither? Hell, canonically, Harry is really emotionally stunted in that regard, and I just don't see him grovelling or reacting that way to anyone or not specifically to Tom? Especially not a Slytherin who is always busy with political climbing or things-that-don't-interest-Harry. I feel like they'll be so busy with their lives, that until and unless someone smack dabs them together (with their luck, let's be real something WILL smack dab them together) I do believe they'll be passing thoughts in each other's life.

Harry might end up thinking in the passing that Tom's really good looking because hell, I've done that; even when I'm not attracted to someone, I will always appreciate a face that I find pleasing. I don't think Harry will be that interested in Tom until and unless he does something that attracts him (ex: quidditch LMAO). And the same goes for Tom, for whom I have this headcanon; that it's not intelligence or say, defiance that would attract him but something more. More visceral, more ground shaking (something very small in others' eyes perhaps but not to Tom). Something that will make him stop and think and learn. Because he doesn't seem like a person who would just get a crush out of nowhere,but that doesn't mean he won't be attracted to power tho lmao knowing him, he most deffo would. (Also all this doesn't mean i mind obsessed Tom fics, bc vee obsessing over harry is canon so who's to say he doesn't end up doing the same lmao).

And also the headcanon of Harry not realizing Tom is suspicious? Guys, this is Harry Potter; Mr I doubt everything and anything. Mr I fought of imperio because it felt too good to be true and my mind went sus alert. You think Harry wouldn't see Tom Riddle being so nice and so perfect and won't feel wait a second? Give my boy some credit, I beg. We've been shown his sixth sense being right, over and over again. And he has trust issues.

So, food for thought? Neither of them would do the grovelling and pining (they might in some specific circumstances but not in your average fics where they are doing their things without crossing paths), rather they are gonna do the falling once faith crash them together so hard; they end up getting a concussion (love).

Also adding this: I feel like they will fall for each other, no matter what and it will be not be because of faith or whatever but rather because of how much they can learn from each other and how perfectly they fit together. It will not be some random feelings, no. It will be push and pull, it'll be you get me, it will be I know you'll always have my back and it will be all the broken furnitures because they're stubborn. It will be challenging each other to be the better version of themselves.

Tom, who knows he is the best; can teach Harry some things about CONFIDENCE and he could teach Harry that he's enough. Harry, who knows a thing or two about humility, can drag him back when Tom tries to be Icarus and he can ground Tom when it's needed. Harry and Tom can both challenge each other and learn from each other. Harry will never suffocate Tom, and neither will he let Tom suffocate him and to me that's what make their dynamic special. I love them, okay — I hate it when people go; yeah he will be the one who'll just pine away or there's no way he (one of them) will fall for him etc. Let them be down bad for each other. thanks. It's not a competition.

[jiveyuncle]

My mind jumped straight to this scene lol

Using this as an opportunity to promote @wittyy-name ’s fic The Marks We Make. I’m on the final chapter rn and FUCK IT’S SO GOOD.

Summary:

Lance McClain constantly dreams of the day he'll finally meet his mysterious soulmate. They don't say much, if anything at all, but they leave him with gorgeous paintings temporarily tattooing his skin. It's not exactly the situation he hoped for, but when he feels the connection between them, he can't bring himself to resent them. As much as he wishes his soulmate would just talk to him, he's resigned himself to being patient. In the meantime, he has a loving family and good friends to help him get by.

Keith Kogane dreads the day he'll finally meet his obnoxious soulmate. He's just an art student who's struggling to find his place in the world. There's so much he hasn't been able to control in his life, and the thought of having a soulmate, just another thing in his life which he also has no control over yet can't do anything about, is a little terrifying. So he ignores the words that occasionally appear on his skin. He has other things to focus on: like being a new student at a big university where his childhood friend and step-brother go.

Read it here:

[aclowntiny]

Ink Trails- Hongjoong x GN!Reader (Soulmate AU)

Just about everyone has a soulmate, a person they're destined to be with, to go through life with in some capacity. The mark of this? Anything you write on your skin shows up on theirs.

Word Count: 2.4k | Soulmate AU, Banter, Faint Humor | Warnings: a bit of language

You weren’t a big fan of drawing on yourself. As a child, you were something of a neat freak, washing all the dirt you could off your hands and never wanting to add ammo to the enemy in yours and the sink’s war. Of course, your favorite sheet of temporary tattoos didn’t count as dirt, not when they granted you several days of carrying your favorite character, a little purple penguin, with you. In fact, you practically ignored the rest of the sheet besides a few snowflakes surrounding him, all of which everyone told you were now decorating some other kid, too.

Well, good, you thought, your penguin was the best and they probably loved it, too. Otherwise they couldn’t marry you or whatever soulmates did. Usually it was get married. Maybe you would get married when you grew up. Your grandparents liked being married.

As you grew a bit older, you wrote in school. Sometimes your pen or pencil slipped, skimming your hand with an accidental line. Sometimes your soulmate was clumsy, too, and you watched a pencil trail appear when you didn’t even have one in hand. The weirdest was when you watched a whole shaky ㅎ appear, the circle looking a bit square, then suddenly erasing and being reborn round again.

And then just like that, it was all gone.

It hadn’t really been your habit to write things on yourself like others you knew- it just didn’t come naturally to you when you had paper and, a bit later in life, your phone. Beside that, given the marks of soulmates, any notes you wrote would appear on someone else’s arm, hand, anywhere they could get scolded for if they had strict family or teachers or a barrier to looking presentable at an academic event. It just didn’t seem fair. That was the same reason why, even years after school and becoming an adult, you chose not to get any tattoos. What if your soulmate hated it? Then they get it removed and you lose yours and the cycle goes on like some sort of stupid cartoon sequence of ink and lasers.

Ok, that part maybe not so much, but you knew how personal and controversial tattoos could be, so kinda weird to put one on someone else without their consent. Sorry about the penguin, you supposed all those years later, I was four.

Instead, perhaps preferably, you doodled a lot on paper, keeping at it even when that rude boy Matthew from seventh grade told you your cat looked so bad, it made him think it was a dragon holding a cookie. Such insults would not be taken from the guy who used ‘I don’t like the color red’ as an icebreaker ‘fun fact’…while wearing a red shirt.

Even if you were no artist, improvement naturally came with age and frequency, and you favored keeping your drawings cute anyway. Yet another reason to put them down on paper- pen ink faded from skin, but on paper, it was like a tattoo. Permanent with all your other notebooks of doodles that would have more than covered your body.

Your body, which was semi-frequently decorated anyway, not of your own accord. Your soulmate, likely around your age, had no qualms about use of the forearms as a notepad, so it wasn’t the oddest occurrence by far to wake up with things like ‘7:00 독주회’ or a more frantic ‘ENGLISH TEST 9:00’ scrawled there. Or even once a very unceremoniously written, shaky, clearly hastily added ‘BUMJOONG WAS HERE’ on the back of your hand. That was a fun one to try to explain. It made you wonder sometimes if your soulmate was a less considerate person than you or if you’d simply proven well in your restraint.

You weren’t expecting any answers, or perhaps more questions, to come in the form they all did.

The morning was like any other: it was your day off, time you’d reserved so as to endeavor some shopping. Making yourself a nice breakfast and choosing one of your favorite outfits, you hopped in the shower. Deciding what the heck, it was your day off, you even busted out the new sugar scrub you’d bought as peals of warm, crashing water echoed around you, lathering some exfoliant luxury upon the skin you’d always cared for.

Never once had you expected it to entertain anyone’s notice.

But there it was as you strolled along the concrete of the shopping center’s sidewalk, completely unaware of what was exposed until you ran into a friend, waving and exchanging the platitudes of two meeting after some time.

“Wow, (y/n), what a surprise, I didn’t know you got a tattoo! I thought you didn’t want any!” Your old friend Brian exclaimed with a wide smile, tilting his head. “May I see the whole thing?”

His words rose slowly to your head as you blinked, gears turning. For you had not, in fact, gotten anything of the sort done. Instinctively you held out your hand, assuming your soulmate had scrawled another vague practice reminder on the back of their hand or wrist, but your skin was blank, just a smooth expanse the same tone it always was.

“No, not your hand, silly! There!” Your eyes followed as he pointed down towards the ground, toward…your leg?

Swiveling at the hips, you bent and tugged on any necessary clothing to reveal, sure enough, writing near your ankle. Your chest sunk.

“I didn’t get a tattoo,” you said quietly.

“What?”

“I didn’t get a tattoo,” you repeated, voice a deadpan.

He pointed, finger rising slowly, almost shakily. “Then what’s-”

“I don’t know. I- I guess my soulmate did it.”

“Your soulmate got a tattoo without asking you?”

“We haven’t met,” you burst out as you raised the fabric around your leg higher, “I guess they don’t care what I think! What’s this even say, anyway?”

Frustration pricked at you at the sheer height of the piece- it wasn’t exactly dainty. Quite a ballsy move, all things considered. Sheesh. Wait, those were wings, huh?

“It says ‘faith’,” Brian supplied, “and I think it’s nice. Could definitely be worse. Could have been a partner’s name or, like, naked Spongebob or something.”

You cocked a brow. “Naked Spongebob?”

“Well, would you want that on your leg?” Brian shot back, crossing his black t-shirted arms.

“No,” you sighed, staring at your new, involuntary body art, “I suppose I would not. Well, you’re right- this is pretty nice. I can live with this. Hopefully it’s not the first one of many, though. My soulmate better leave me some control of my own skin.”

“Yeah, and if they don’t, you’d better give them a piece of your mind.”

A chuckle escaped you. “Yeah, right. I don’t even know where they are.”

“Have you never tried to find out?” Brian’s eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing at you like he was asking the dumbest question he’d ever uttered.

And maybe he was. Your chest contracted in realization that you had, in fact, never once considered taking any initiative into finding whoever it was had those recitals or English tests or who you really hoped had the spine to smack Bumjoong one for defacement of property. The person who, by the universe’s decree, was meant to be some miraculous piece of your life forever and you’d just…assumed they’d walk in whenever it was time. All your concern had gone to not bothering their appearance despite their clear lack of regard on the subject.

“Uh, (y/n)?” A hand waved in front of your face. Brian’s. “You’ve gone all spacey on me, what’s wrong?”

“Brian, I might be stupid.”

“Might?”

You descended back to earth, or at least close enough to its gravity, to find the wherewithal to smack his shoulder beneath the momentous echoing of reality throughout your brain.

“Also, I take it then the tattoo on your arm wasn’t your idea either?”

“The…what?”

Shopping day over.

~

Hongjoong couldn’t recognize his own handwriting. Or could he? Had he written that address on the back of his hand? He had to have. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. As if his schedule wasn’t busy enough, now here was some other errand he’d forgotten.

Pulling out his phone and typing it into maps, he saw that at least it wasn’t too far away. A reasonable drive, especially for a…tuesday? Oddly specific, but appointments were appointments, he reflected as he swiveled in his leather office chair.

After all, if it wasn’t important, he wouldn’t have written it down so visibly on himself like that. That was a habit he’d largely dropped in adulthood, image of greater concern and regard for mess a bit higher, too. Plus, the only other good it would have served seemed not his lot.

At least a fair number of songs had come from it. Ah, music- the eternal, universal processor. What would he do without it? Music was a way of filling every void-no, scratch that, coming to terms with the existence of voids within oneself- the thing that made him feel complete, or certainly one of them. Jokes had it that music was Hongjoong's soulmate, and while the songwriter didn't appreciate fun being poked at his expense, it was hard to deny the itching grains of truth beneath his skin at the words.

Music-related or not, this short trip was his lot, so why not make the best of it? After all, whoever had organized it picked a pretty nice café as the rendezvous point. Worst case, Hongjoong would at least get a coffee out of it.

~

You were starting to wonder if nobody would approach you, more singles and even couples getting in line and heading straight for a table or the door than you could count on one hand. In fact, in came someone else right in time with your thoughts, a super hot guy in fact, though he looked confused as hell. His eyes darted back and forth between the chalkboard menu and the industrial-style metal tables as he stood a little bit out of line.

Shit didn’t hit the fan until he pulled his phone out to check it, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. His loose black t-shirt sleeve fell back, revealing a tattoo suspiciously similar to the second one that Brian pointed out on your own body. And that font was very, very unique. And big. And it was on you now.

Moving completely of its own volition, your body peeled from its metal seat and strode right up to him. No thoughts swirled to the surface of your mind even as you reached his side, prompting him to turn on his heels.

The only words your mind could barely form fell out of your lips. "You're the one who gave me these tattoos."

Jumping back, the man gaze at you with saucer-wide eyes, saying nothing as you pulled your own sleeve back to reveal the second and luckily last set of writing Brian had found on your body, this time reading 'No 1 like me', and again showed your ankle.

"I designed that one myself, how could you possibly-" His wide-eyed gape fell slowly into a smile. "I have a soulmate?"

"Yes, of course you do!" You replied, incredulous. "Did you think you didn't?"

"You never wrote anything!" He shot back.

"I was trying not to mess you up!"

"I just..." The man's handsome features fell, first into seeming hurt then just into a pensive look. "For so many years I taught myself to make my own way. Sometimes I was fine with it, sometimes I wasn't."

"No wonder you thought there was no one like you," you said before panicking, thinking better of it, "not that the tattoo isn't cool! And still true. I really like the font, actually? You said you designed at least one of these?"

"Yeah, I knew what I wanted, so I drew up the faith one and..." He tilted his head, sliding his phone from his hand back into his pocket. "wait, do you want to get a table?"

"Only if you buy me a drink," you teased, nodding toward your arm as you got back in line, "you owe me for these."

"I think you owe me for years of radio silence," the man shot back with a smirk, crossing his arms.

Heat crept into your face at the way he fixed the intense look at you, but you refused to back down. "The way you described it sounded like I taught you a valuable lesson."

"Pain can teach lessons."

Ok, you were about spent at that. "Are we really fighting over something as stupid as one free coffee?"

"I mean, fighting wasn't the word I would have used there, but you're right. I've got this one."

"Oh, you two are so cute!" The barista waved her hand as you placed your orders. "I love couples who bicker like old married grandparents! So, what are your names?"

You and your soulmate glanced at each other, your eyes sliding back into those deep, dark, expressive ones you wouldn't mind getting used to. He searched yours, too, and a small smile played on his lips that had you wondering what he was thinking... until you realized it, too.

Maybe you had wildly opposite views over the years on using your body as a notebook, but you two soulmates had the exact same sense of humor.

"We don't know," you both said at the same time.

"I'm Hongjoong," the man in black introduced himself, smiling wickedly now.

"(y/n), nice to meet you," you replied, bowing back to him.

The barista mirrored Hongjoong's initial shock at your confrontation as you both headed to your table, laughing now. Somehow that all came as easily as bickering, all your interactions up to that point having a certain flow you'd never felt before. Placebo effect? Maybe, yet the tug you felt the moment you first saw Hongjoong was yet to fade. It was like those old sayings: it felt like you two were making music.

"Ok, please don't think I'm being rude," Hongjoong's voice cut into your thoughts, "but I'm a songwriter, and I feel like I just have to write down some lyrics right now."

All you could do was just grin at that. Well, shit. Maybe now you really would have to try leaving more of an ink trail.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Of Truths and Dreams; Lilia Vanrouge

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

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

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

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

Word Count; 5.5 K

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

Sebek's Story | Malleus's Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

…

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

…

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

…

…

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

“May I come in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

…

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How many?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fin!

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

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

[teyvatairconditioningco]

I WANT TO BITE HIM I WANT TO [REDACTED] I WANT TO FORCE HIM TO TAKE A SHOWER AND CALL HIM A GOOD BOY BEFORE I [REDACTED]

and then sit in bed, eat takis, and binge watch princess tutu

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

So there's a 60s song. One of my favorites. I have several, but let's not focus on that. Its called Give Him A Great Big Kiss by The Shangri-Las, and everytime i hear it, it makes me think of steddie.

More so of Steve finding the song, probably in his mom's old record case. And he's always loved the song. But then he met Eddie. And it's meaning changed. His thoughts constantly drifting to Eddie when he hears it. And he starts singing it all goofy and love sick when he hears it now.

He and Robin work at a bar downtown, Eddie works at the mechanic shop around the corner. He comes in for early lunch a lot, and that's how they meet. They get along great. All of them do. Robin loves him to death. As far as she's concerned she gained another soulmate along side Steve. One who blabbers like her and they rant at each other constantly, Steve watching them fondly.

But he's also got it bad for Eddie. Obviously. And Robin knows this. Knows about the song. And the way Steve sings it all gooey and adoring and lost in thought.

After a few plays of the song she sings along with him, they duet they're hearts out when it comes on and the bar is empty. Usually right before they open. Both of them using mops, or bottles, or dishrags as microphones as they sing.

Eddie is pining too. He's got it so bad for Steve that he finds it hard to look at him sometimes. And Robin, drukenly one night, after Steve had fallen alseep in his chair beside the pool, had told Eddie to shoot his shot. That he'd sink it, or get a home run, or a touchdown, or some other sports term that neither of them really understood.

But everytime Eddie has tried to make a move, something comes up. They get interrupted. Every. Single. Time. Eddie had decided fate was against them and almost given up hope.

He'd had a plan today. Come to the bar for lunch before they opened, ask him, whether Robin was there or not. She'd been making it a point to not speak to them if it looked like they were talking about something important. Eddie knew it was pity for him. Was endlessly greatful.

But that was how he ended up at the bar. Ducking in the side entrance they left open for him. And he's about to burst in like normal, all loud enthusiasm to see his friends, but he hears Steve groaning about something, hears Robin laughing, hears his name, and it stops him, his hand pressed gently to the door.

"Uuugghhh my god. I'm useless. I was so good at this in school. I could ask anyone out. Like it was nothing." Steve grumbles, Eddie's stomach flutters, he pushed the door open, just a crack, can only see Robin where she's perched on the bar top, legs crossed.

"Maybe that's the problem." She shrugs, Eddie sees her drop her hand to the left, he bites his lip and carefully pushes the door a bit further. He has to stifle a laugh when he sees Steve, looking forlorn, head dropped onto the bar, Robin's hand petting at his hair absent-mindedly. He turns his head to look up at her and Eddie moves to the side a bit, hoping Steve doesn't notice him.

"Huh?" He huffs, glares up at her. She pats the side of his face a couple times and takes her hand back.

"You said you did it like it was nothing. Maybe this isn't nothing? With Eddie, I mean. Maybe it's... bigger. Better!" Her hands move in a flurry in front of her as she talks, Steve ducks away from them as he sits up on the stool properly.

"Better. ...elaborate?" He says slowly, his eyes on the ceiling, his face all screwed up the way Eddie loves, his concentration face, it would be Eddie's downfall one day.

Robin nods enthusiastically, plops her feet down onto the stool next to Steve.

"Well does it feel different? With Eddie? Than it did with all those other people?" She asks, looking down at him with an impossibly fond look.

Eddie watches Steve bite his lip, think for a long moment, his hand moves absent-mindedly to his stomach. Eddie mirrors him, his stomach fluttering as he watches. Feeling a bit guilty, but he can't look away. He can't move. He has to keep listening. Needs the courage, he tells himself. Steve nods.

"Yeah it does. It's different. He's different." Steve says, and he's got this dopey look on his face that Eddie's never seen. Robin nods, slides down off the bar, her butt replacing her feet as she holds Steve's knees tightly.

"Different then what? Then who?" Robin promtps, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Different then everyone." Steve breathes it like a prayer and then immediately shoves his face into his hands with a groan as Robin makes a high pitched noise in her throat.

"You know what this needs don't you?" She asks, excitement coursing through her now. She's on her feet before Steve answers, bouncing out of veiw, toward the jukebox in the corner. Steve groans again and turns to follower her.

"Alcohol?" He asks, voice dry. Eddie hears Robin snort.

"Maybe after work. But right now what we need, is.... drum roll please." She draws out the please. Eddie watches Steve sit on the stool, watching her. He gives her nothing.

"I said drum roll!!" She shouts, and Steve grins, tapping his hands on the stool between his legs.

"Theeeeeee Eddie song!" She sings, and Eddie faintly hears the click of the Jukebox before a womans voice fills the air. Music kicking in after the first few words, Steve already bobbing along. Eddie's heart stutters in his chest. He knows this song. Has heard Steve humming it a few times. It's not a bad song. Eddie's open to things.

He watches Robin dance back into view as Steve starts mouthing the words, pretending to fight against it. But all Eddie can hear are the lyrics, as Steve really starts to get into it, taking Robin's hand and letting her pull him off his seat.

"Thick wavy hair. A little too long. All day loooong, he's singin his song." Steve starts to sway, and Eddie can't do it, they're moving out of view and he needs to see this. He ducks through the door quietly and sinks back to the back corner silently, both of them lost in the song as they dance. Robin chiming in now.

"Well, what color are his eyes?" She asks Steve, perfectly in sync with the song, they've clearly done this... a lot. Steve shrugs and counters,

"I don't know. He's always wearing shades." He sighs wistfully.

"Is he tall?" Robin asks, climbing back onto the bar, laying on her stomach, feet kicked up in the air.

"Well, I've got to look up." Steve stays out on the dining floor, dancing between the tables, swaying his hips.

"Yeah? Well I hear he's bad." Robin scrunches her face as she sings.

"Hmm. He's good bad. But he's not evil." Steve furrow his brow, 'thinking'.

"Tell me more. Tell me more." Robin sings, kicking her feet to the beat, chin in her hands as she grins at Steve. He does a fancy twirl and falls into a chair, dreamy look on his face as he continues.

"Big bulky sweaters, to match his eyes. Dirty fingernails, oh boy what a prize." He swoons a little, his head resting on his chin for a moment before he spins up out of the chair again, dancing towards Robin as he sings through the chorus again.

Eddie's breathing is fast now, his palms sweating as he watches and listenes to Steve sing about kissing him in the street, and loving and caring for him. Wanting to always be there for him. Eddie doesn't miss how fond he looks.

He's looked fond this entire time. Fond and... something else. Eddie's not sure there's a word for it. But he thinks 'longing' might be close. He wipes his palms on his grease stained jeans and moves foward, slowly, not wanting to draw attention, but he can't stay put any longer. Robin chimes in again, rolling onto her back dramatically, arms crossed over her chest.

"Is he a good dancer?"

"What do you mean is a good dancer?" Steve laughs into the line and Eddie's stomach flutters, he could watch Steve like this forever.

"Well how does he dance?" Robin sings, sitting up and facing Steve as he closes in on the stool in front of her, places his hands on it and practically sighs the last line.

"Close. Very, very, close."

The music fades. Robin singing the last of the 'oohs' gently as it does, both her and Steve smiling at each other. Eddie takes this moment to bump into a chair, sending it screeching a few inches across the floor, both of them flailing as they turn to look at him.

"Oh my god!" Robin yells, her hands clamping over her mouth. Steve is frozen as she looks between him and Eddie. Eddie raises one hand from his thigh, wobbles his hand in an awkward wave.

"Uhh... hey." He says, brilliantly. Steve's face is getting redder and redder as he stands there, and Eddie can see him tensing. About to bolt.

So he does something he's never been very good at. For Steve. He finds his bravery and walks right up to Steve, plants himself in front of him, hands landing on his shoulders harder than he meant too, but Steve doesn't flinch.

"Hey." Eddie breathes, his thumbs soothing over Steve's collarbones.

"You already said that." Steve says flatly, he's still staring at Eddie. Eddie's pretty sure he hasn't blinked since he hit the chair.

"Right. Yeah. Lemme try somethin else then." Eddie breathes, ducks forward, presses his lips gently to Steve's, feels Steve gasp against his lips and then feels his hands clamp down on his hips, hard.

It's a small kiss. Just a press of lips really, warm, and sweet, and gentle. But when Eddie pulls back, they're both breathless. Eddie vaguely hears Robin make that happy high pitched noise again, and clapping. And then any sounds from her are drowned out by the next song that clicks on, You Send Me by Sam Cooke. Eddie loves this song.

"You wanna dance?" He asks, brushes his nose against Steve's cheek, laughs when Steve follows him, trying to catch his lips again.

"I dunno. Are you a good dancer?" Steve asks, smirking at Eddie, though his eyes are shining and soft.

"What do you mean am I good dancer?" Eddie asks, feigning offense.

"Well... how do you dance?" Steve recites, sounding almost shy.

Eddie bites his lip, wraps his arm around Steve's waist, and pulls him tightly to his chest as he turns him further onto the dance floor, guiding them between tables with an out of character grace.

"Close. Very, very, close." Eddie breathes, his heart fluttering as Steve throws his head back and laughs, his arms circling Eddie's neck as they sway together, holding each other close as the music plays on.

[sassypantsjaxon]

Nobody asked about my soulmate's scar au that I'm bringing back for one piece, but I'm telling you anyway. Like any good soulmate au, there's an identifier to let people know who their soulmate is. In this case, it's the first time someone touches their soulmate it causes a scar. So casual touch is little more taboo, and sometimes people will wear gloves if they're not ready to meet their soulmate. Other than that, things are pretty much the same.

Luffy is still the same overly excited, physically affectionate idiot. He has no concept of personal space and often forgets other people might not want to be touched.

It's just another thing that Dadan and Makino and the Mayor get to scold Luffy for as he's growing up. Shanks probably thinks it's hilarious

Zoro's the same old Zoro. He doesn't care. If he meets his soulmate, it's fine. If he doesn't, that's fine too

Nami wears gloves and gets kinda weird about people touching her

Usopp has his soulmate by the time he sets out to sea. Everything's fine with her, but he regrets leaving before realizing they were soulmates

Sanji wears gloves. Constantly. While he's working. Fighting. Eating. He has a pair he wears while he's sleeping. He never bathes with the other guys but there's a (mostly) joking bet about if he even undresses for that

Nami still dresses in her t shirts and shorts, so the gloves are really the only signifier that she doesn't want any physical contact, whereas Sanji is fully covered in his three piece suits. He is not taking any chances.

After Arlong Park, once Nami realizes that having friends and letting people care about her is a thing she's allowed to do, she stops wearing her gloves.

Vivi is wearing gloves when they meet her, because if she's going to find her soulmate, she doesn't want it to be while she's working for Baroque Works

She joins the Straw Hats, and she still wears them usually, but she's not quite as rigid as Nami was with hers

Chopper is a reindeer and animals don't have soulmates like that, but with the human human fruit, he really has no idea if that's changed anything for him? he's not really interested in having a soulmate anyway, so he'll cross that bridge if it ever comes up

Robin doesn't really like being touched, but there's no point in her wearing gloves when they wouldn't carry over to all the extra hands she can grow. She doesn't even know if touching her soulmate with her extra hands would be able to create a scar

She doesn't really believe she has a soulmate anyway, so...

Franky also doesn't know how finding his soulmate will work since so much of his body is artificial. Can his prosthetics leave a scar? Can his skin be scarred? He has no idea

Brook doesn't need to worry about finding his soulmate since he doesn't even have skin to scar (skeleton joke!)

For real though, he never talks about if he found his soulmate in his first life, and they don't ask him about it

Jimbei also doesn't talk about soulmates and, again, the rest of them don't pry

They meet Law at Punk Hazard and he is just as serious about keeping himself covered as Sanji is.

Somewhere between Punk Haz and Dressrosa someone asks them if this is some North Blue thing. They both immediately say yes. They are both lying through their teeth and are now wondering what the other one gains from covering for them

Neither of them are gaining anything, they're just both really weird about the idea of meeting their soulmates

[punkeropercyjackson]

Hobie is NOT mean,Hobie is NOT gross,Hobie is NOT perverted,Hobie is NOT misogynistic,Hobie is NOT all edge,Hobie is NOT fucking 'scary-looking'.Hobie is an incredibly sweet and gentle boy who did nothing but be kind to everyone around him except authority figures and that's not being cruel,it's having social awareness and a drive to fights for what's right and killing fascists isn't cruel either,it's activism,direct action and not being a fence sitter!Hobie isn't punk to be hot,Hobie is punk because he's black so it's HIS culture,it's OUR culture and y'all are telling on yourselves by reducing it down to sex appeal and down to edge too because he's canonically soft too seeing how nice and goofy he is,PLUS the pink motif,that concept art of him with a cat charm on his Watch,his care for Mayday and being transmasc4transfem best friends to lovers with Gwen,who's a trans girl and PASTEL punk.'Siblings-coded' my ass,they act like a married couple and y'all are so darksided for never popularizing black Gwen even a year later when yt Gwen is quite literally the ONLY problem with Ghostpunk and i know damn well admitting they're a thing would force y'all to also admit your Hobie interpretations of him being a bad boyfriend who only treats Gwen good because he sees her platonically are purely from antiblackness.Just say it:You think Hobie is a bad person because he's afropunk but think it's a compliment due finding him attractive and never consider maybe black people just have standards for ourselves and when we do you think we're being 'bullies' and 'puritans'.SAY IT WITH YOUR CHEST COLONISADORES,YOU DID EVERYTHING ELSE!!!! Be like Hobie since you love him so much,don't play possum!!!!

[schneiderenjoyer]

MY TIME HAS COME.

You have NO idea how happy I am someone made a platonic shipping chart. I have so much feelings about friendships almost as much as gushing about my fav romantic ships. The platonic side of ships need more love too!

Go wild with the OG template here.

[caelysiiium]

self-established aouboom my most beloved

[mylordshesacactus]

Continuing the theme of EPIC the musical songs just being ABOUT Ahsoka Tano

I fucked up the groupchat with We'll Be Fine as a devastatingly accurate representation of Ahsoka and Ezra's relationship