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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 9 months

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Of Truths and Dreams; Lilia Vanrouge

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

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

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

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

Word Count; 5.5 K

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

Sebek's Story | Malleus's Story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“May I come in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How many?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fin!

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

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

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

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starlight-eclipsed · 1 year

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Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.)

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.”

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

#dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #tim drake #red robin #brain dead #rejected soulmate au #danny x tim #my fic #complete #gonna be honest I planned to stop at part I #but it felt incomplete so I threw together a bunch of scenes I wanted to see between them #pacing is for people with time

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the-witchhunter · 5 months

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DP x DC Dead Soulmates

This is probably the only soulmate au I'll ever do so enjoy

Soulmate au where your soul mark turns black when your soulmate dies

Danny and Jason are soulmates. The problem? Both of their soul marks are black. Sure, they came back, but not in a typical way, so each thinks the other is dead

So what do we get? Longing. Two guys longing for a love they thought lost to them, thinking tenderly of a future they don't think they could have, even without the added craziness of their lives. Standing on rooftops, smoking in the cold november air, their breath indistinguishable from the smoke, their spent cigarettes flicked off the edge like discount shooting stars, lamenting their fates, probably to each other for the dramatic irony of it all

they both get it. The quiet kind of grief, longing for somebody they never got the chance to know, thinking about how things could have been different, how the should have been different. That understanding is what draws them towards each other

and then? Jason sees Danny's mark, Jason shows his own, they stare at each other, silent for a moment, before arms wrap around the other, lips pressed together, and quiet tears fall like rain to the rooftop beneath their feet

longing, angst, and then happy ending

and you can thank this song for inspiring the mood for this

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #writing prompt #writing #dpxdc #soulmate au #dead on main #i usually don't like soulmate au's so probably the only one I'm ever going to do #they kind of act as shortcuts to get characters together #which tends to skip my favorite parts of romance focused fics #so taste wise they just don't scratch the itch for me usually #but if i can give them years of angst...#idk something about actually having them emotionally process the fact they think they'll never get to meet their other #the person perfectly suited to them #having them suddenly get together seems worth it to me #i also really like this song #Spotify

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mccn-bcys · 2 years

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JUST A TOUCH OF YOUR HAND

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: when you turn eighteen, an ink stain appears on your skin wherever your soulmate touches you for the first time. the boys each are dealing with their stain in their own way.

warnings: angsty marc, fluffy jake, soulmate au, DID (I don't have DID so I'm basing my knowledge off of what is in the show, please correct me if anything is wrong), I'm also not a Spanish speaker (I used Google translate please correct me if it's wrong)

authors note: as stated in the warnings, im not a Spanish speaker so pls correct me if it's wrong. I also do not have DID and am using knowledge from the show. There will be a part two to this soon, but I figured I'd go ahead and give you all a taste! I really hope you like it!Let me know what you think! Please like and reblog guys!

word count: 1,817

when the black stain on their knuckles first showed, all three boys weren't sure what to make of its meaning. at first, they thought it was from holding their soulmate's hand, but that didn't make sense. the stain was just on the knuckles of their right hand.

it wouldn't be until years later, as they all started getting older, till they started having their own opinions about it. and after the boys were all aware of each other, they would discuss it. well, jake and steven would discuss it.

marc didn't want to talk about it.

steven wasn't fully convinced that he was destined to have a soulmate. maybe a platonic soulmate, but certainly not a romantic soulmate. surely they would've shown themselves by now, right? so steven decided it best to not romanticize the stain. he just settled on maybe it was a fist bump. or even a lighthearted shoulder punch. some sort of friendly gesture.

jake was the opposite. this man may have a reputation for being bad and mean and evil, but jake lockley was a huge romantic. he was obsessed with love. of course, the only people who knew were marc and steven.

he loved the idea that there was someone out there that was made for him. he liked to believe that they would love him despite the things he's done, despite his past, despite having two other people that shared his body.

he'd played the scenarios around in his head. there was the classic accidental brushing of his knuckles against you, maybe as you passed in the streets. he imagined that when he'd feel you brush his knuckles, he'd stop and turn, grabbing your hand and stopping you, and then it would be love at first sight. something out of a rom-com, marc would scoff. or maybe for some reason, he would be gently stroking your face with his knuckles. or maybe you dropped something, like papers or books, and you both bent down to pick them up and reached for the same book at the same time, your hands brushing each other.

jake would spend hours, just staring at his hand and the stain on it. whenever he thinks of his soulmate, he can't keep the giddy grin off his face. sometimes steven likes to indulge in jakes fantasies, just a little. but the fantasies piss marc off to no end. but all jake wanted? he just wanted somebody to love and somebody to love him.

marc didn't want to indulge in any fantasy, romantic or platonic. he'd convinced himself a long time ago that it was just a joke. he'd stare at the stain on his hand, but instead of with a smile like jake, he'd stare in disgust. disgust at the mark, at the world, at himself.

see, marc had come to the conclusion that the stain was from a punch or some kind of hit. he convinced himself that he'd only hurt you from the beginning, whether on accident or on purpose. but he had no intention of finding out.

he could never hurt you, whoever you were, if he never touched you. he made it a point to not touch anyone. he'd even stopped doing work for khonshu, so he wouldn't risk punching or hitting his soulmate.

he didn't deserve a soulmate anyways, romantic or platonic. he had done too many horrible things, there was too much blood on his hands. and he knew it was all his fault. he didn't deserve someone to love. he wasn't worthy of love. he was a monster. a killer. he always had been.

so when he was walking down the streets, head kept low, as he made his way to the grocery store to pick up some milk — because jake had forgotten again — he thought he was going to die.

it was busy on the street. everyone must be getting off work and trying to get home. marc had really tried. tried so hard to squeeze through everyone without touching anyone.

"this is just ridiculous, mate," steven scoffed lightly. marc could see him throw his hands up in exasperation from the reflection of the window across the street. "do you realize how extremely unlikely it is that we'd brush against them on the way to get milk?"

"not taking any chances," marc grunted, determined.

"are you scared you're going to accidentally punch someone on the street? plan on fighting anyone who bumps into you?" jake rolled his eyes. he thought this whole "no touching" thing was a bunch of shit.

jake had always tried to tell marc how ridiculous his thinking was. that even if their soulmate didn't like their night-time jobs or that they didn't want 3 soulmates in one, at least they'd be able to meet them, know that there had been someone for them.

and marc knew he was right. but that's part of what scared marc. what if they didn't accept him or his alters? what if they only wanted one of them? what if they didn't want to deal with their past? their baggage? marc didn't want to risk it.

"when you front, you are more than welcome to touch people on the street. but I will do whatever the hell I want while I front," marc scowled at his alter.

"mate...you could have worded that a bit better," steven cringed.

and marc was going to respond, but before he could even start to think the words, he felt it.

someone's hand brushed against his knuckles. against the stain.

and marc was ready to just brush it off. maybe turn around tell them to watch where they were going and keep walking. but none of that happened.

as soon as the person made contact with him, a shock went through his body and left a tingling sensation on his knuckles. he stopped dead in his track. jake was screaming at him to let him front — a request marc was adamant on denying. steven was suddenly nervous.

but marc? marc was terrified. if he turned around to look at you, it would only make it more real. marc knew it was you. knew it was his soulmate, otherwise jake and steven wouldn't be freaking out.

"oy, pendejo! si no los miras ahora mismo, nos tiraré de un edificio!" jake threatened, but it was falling on deaf ears.

"marc...you don't have to talk to them, but a glance couldn't hurt," steven tried pleading.

but how it could hurt. because if he looked at you, he'd be ruined. he'd want to talk to you. get to know you. but that came with the risk of you getting to know him. because what if you didn't like it? like him? or his alters? his past? his present? he didn't want to know what he could have with you if it meant he might lose you.

he had wanted to just keep walking. he tried so damn hard to just keep going. act like it didn't happen. but damn it, lockley had gotten enough control and kept their feet glued to the ground.

"míralas!" jake insisted causing marc to let out a groan.

"fine, but just a quick glance," he finally caved, receiving an excited cheer from jake and hopeful sound of agreement from steven.

taking a deep breath, marc finally turned around and for a second time, was frozen in place. even jake and steven were speechless.

you were beautiful. the way the sun was hitting your face right now? breathtaking. and you looked just as stunned as he did.

you had been dreaming of this moment since the stain appeared on your wrist. you — unknowingly like jake — had gone over every scenario possible for the black spot on your wrist. imagined what it'd be like to finally meet your soulmate. imagined what it'd feel like when they touched you for the first time.

never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it happening on your way home on the streets of london. never had you pictured being stopped on the sidewalk, staring at your soulmate just feet away as the world seemed to go on as if nothing was happening.

he was so handsome. his golden skin shining in the sun as he stared at you in awe. as if his whole world had stopped. the way his curls framed his face. and his eyes. oh they seemed to hold a storm. he seemed to be going through so many emotions at once.

you both stood there, staring at each other, seconds seeming to pass like hours. you weren't sure what to do and neither was he. neither of you had prepared for this.

"hi," you finally said. it had been quiet, breathless, especially with the noise of the city, but he heard you loud and clear.

"hey," he said back, making you relax a little. you were worried he wasn't going to speak to you.

"are you—" you both started to ask, which made you laugh a little. oh what he'd give to hear that sound again. he didn't even know your name but he'd give you the world if that's what you asked for.

"sorry," you quickly apologized before continuing, "do you mind?" you asked, gesturing to the stain on his knuckles, to which he lightly shook his head no.

truth be told, marc was terrified to move. no sudden movements, he didn't want to scare you off. you sounded so gentle, so kind. jake was begging to front. but marc wanted to be selfish for just a bit longer.

he watched as you took your stained wrist and brushed it against his knuckles again, both of you jumping slightly at the shock feeling coursing through you again. you beamed up at him.

that's it, he was a goner.

you introduced yourself, seeming a bit shy. all three boys repeated it in their head, loving how it sounded. marc had even repeated back to you and you were already addicted to how it sounded rolling off his pretty lips.

"i'm marc," he said, quietly, as if his name alone was too much information.

"marc," you repeated gently. like if you said it too loud, you'd break whatever spell you two were under. he loved how you said his name.

"well, I've just gotten off work, do you want to get coffee or a drink?" you offered, wanting to immediately get to know the man in front of you.

and before he could turn down the offer, he found himself saying "yeah, i'd like that." the hell was he thinking? he should just go get the milk and go home. forget you and that this had happened. but that felt impossible now. he doesn't think he'd ever forget you.

so before you both know it, you're walking side by side, going to get coffee, an easy silence falling over you as you walked together.

edit (bc I forgot my taglist):

taglist: @leoluved @howaboutcastiel @sir-knight-slytherdor

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!)

#moon knight #jake lockley #moon boys #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fluff #moon knight x you #mr knight #mr knight x reader #soulmate au #part one #my beloved moon boys #must protect them #angsty marc #jake is a big sap

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aerialworms-art · 4 months

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Spocktober + Trektober Day 20 - Soulmates

They love each other really! They've just had a long voyage home...

Thanks to @stellucis for giving me the idea of drawing them with the red string of fate!

(Please click for quality! ID under cut)

[Image ID: A black and white drawing of Jim Kirk, Spock, and Bones as seen in Star Trek: The Voyage Home. They are all older than in the Original Series. Spock is wearing his white Vulcan robe and no shoes. Jim is wearing his maroon suit, and Bones is wearing his beige and brown jumpsuit. His cravat is untucked from his neckline and the ends are floating. Both Jim and Bones' trousers are flared and they're wearing simple boots.

Spock and Bones are floating against a starry backdrop, connected to each other and Jim by thin threads attached to each of their wrists. Both of their threads connecting them to Jim are floating, relaxed and looping. However, Bones has grabbed the thread connecting him to Spock and is hunched over, attempting to chew through it. Spock is watching this with detached curiosity. His posture is more relaxed and his left arm is being pulled towards Bones because Bones is pulling on the thread.

Jim is standing in the middle, feet edging over the border of the drawing. His hands are on his hips, and he is looking up despairingly at his soulmates, saying "Can't you two just get along? Please?"

Above the drawing is written "Trektober" and "Day 20 - Soulmates" Below it is written "@aerialworms" and "Spocktober"./End ID]

#star trek #spocktober #star trek fanart #star trek the original series #trektober 2023 #mcspirk #star trek the voyage home #spock #james t kirk #leonard mccoy #soulmate au #i mean. is it really an au when they're literally three parts of a whole #the string of fate thing is the au part mwahahaha #this is gonna be my last trektober/spocktober post from the 2023 prompt list btw #outside of october it's just not as fun #i still have several pieces i want to do inspired by the prompt list though! they just probably won't be the exact same b/w style #anyway. rounding out the year with my favourite grumpy old men #the triumvirate #my three grandpas. and yes they smoke weed #HAPPY NEW YEAR #Oh also everyone better appreciate the detail on their outfits. i loved doing that it was so fun #especially bones'!! such a fancy jumpsuit i love it #i'm genuinely so proud of this one #and of finishing 20 whole pieces *and* posting them!!!#anyway yeah happy new year!!! live long and prosper!!! 🖖🖖🖖

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captainkirkk · 1 year

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Currently thinking about the AU where the gaang are all platonic soulmates

The political landscape is a mess post-Sozin's Comet, I'm not sure revealing the gaang are all soulmates would make things better or just muddy the waters even more

#every country is war torn and fractured and peace is barely holding #but every country has an important person connected via soulmate mark to the other countries #broke: the countries are arguing for a political marriage #woke: the countries are arguing because our soul-deep connection has TOO MANY political alliances in them #kfjgkjdkfj #avatar #atla #au ideas #my posts #i love the reveal part of soulmate AUs #but i can't stop thinking about the AFTER #the gaang are already pretty much platonic life partners in canon #but i love the thought of them being treated like that #platonic soulmates being taken just as seriously as romantic soulmates/spouses!!#people acknowledging that the gaang are each other's next of kin!! their family!!#i'm losing my mind about this

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minty364 · 3 months

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DPXDC Prompt#128 part 2

Jason had finally made it too a safe house, his eyes blurred everything together and he was having a hard time breathing. His soulmate seemed close to death when they switched and Jason began to worry about making it a little. Thankfully the safe house was close to where his soulmate had been wandering. He was getting a scolding when Jason was finally in his own body he decided. He thankfully remembered the combination for the lock and sat down on the couch after locking the doors behind him.

His head was pounding and he wanted to do nothing more than lay here on the couch but the sooner he got in contact with Bruce and the rest of them the sooner he could find himself in his own body again. He took closer attention to the one he was inhabiting at the moment and noticed a few things about it. For one he was wearing a shiny silver belt that had some bright green, the kind that seemed a little too close to the green of the pit or his eyes when he got angry. He moved to touch it but when his skin made contact he violently got shocked. Now Jason had gotten electrocuted before, but this was on a whole new level.

This utterly confused him, why was his soulmate wearing something that would cause him this level of pain? He couldn’t have been wearing it on purpose, maybe he was forced to wear it? The more he thought about it the more pissed off he got. If someone was forcing his soulmate to wear something that caused this level of pain to torture him made Jason nauseous. He took a few breaths to calm himself before he thought about what his next steps should be.

First he was going to check and see what supplies this safe house had, it was one of Bats so there was probably a spare communicator somewhere he could use. He carefully got back up from the couch afraid to touch the damn belt again and began looking. He found some first aid and a communicator right where he thought it’d be and he put it in his ear and spoke,

“Hey, Jason here, finally got to a safe house, buddy when you get here you’ve got some explaining to do”

—————

Danny could feel how tense the car was as Batman drove. He’d be totally excited to be riding in the Batmobile but dreaded the conversations he was about to have with everyone here, everyone being Batman, his soulmate, and all of the people that could apparently hear everything through the helmet he was wearing. Danny was afraid to take it off at this point seeing as Batman had been almost silent the whole way.

Danny had a few moments to actually think about things. The most pressing being his soulmate was in his half almost fully dead body. He knew he was wearing ratty clothes and a specter deflector last. They made him wear it at the facility and he really hoped his soulmate hadn’t tried to touch it.

Another thing that had bothered him is the body he was currently in. It felt off, not half dead like his own but something similar. He could feel the ectoplasm flowing through his veins but it was much less than what he had. Jason was more alive than Danny was especially at the moment.

He’d panic a bit more about not knowing the state his soulmate and body were except his helmet crackled back to life,

“Hey, Jason here, finally got to a safe house, buddy when you get here you’ve got some explaining to do”

It felt weird hearing his own voice in the tone of a stranger and he felt it was probably the same for him.

“Jason I’m in the car with your soulmate, let me know your position,” Batman said his voice crackled in his ears. Danny wasn’t sure what to say, he was worried about his soulmate but he sounded really pissed. Probably because Danny took his chance to kill the Joker, he assumed his soulmate intended to kill him anyways since the safety was off.

Danny kept silent throughout the rest of the trip after Jason told them his location. He was honestly a little terrified, he wouldn’t doubt that his soulmate knew Batman with the way they were talking to each other so he went through what he knew about the bats. He went through all of the bats he knew and came to the conclusion that his soulmate must have been Red Hood which meant he was in Red Hoods body at the moment and that thought didn’t help comfort him at all.

That also meant that Red Hood was his soulmate and that terrified him even more. He’d heard stories, mostly from Sam who kept an eye on everything Gotham related seeing as it was her favorite city. Danny missed his friends, they had seen him get kidnapped by the GIW and tried their best to free him but it wasn’t any use.

Danny spent months in the facility and if it wasn’t for the GIWs own incompetence he’d still be there. They had done some terrible things to him during his captivity. They were in the middle of moving him back to his cell when the lights went out. They hadn’t thought to install a back up generator so the ghost shield had temporarily gone down. He was able to fight them back and escape somehow but the belt he was forced to wear made it impossible for him to use his powers.

He had been on the run for about a week when the switch happened.

He tensed a little as Batman parked the car.

Master Post:

#dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #poor danny #They meet in the next part #A little exposition #Someone please tell me if I’m writing Jason right #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use #part 2 #soulmates au #nausea mention #no vomit though

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drarrypotterrenaissance · 9 months

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A Glimmer of Hope

Once both you and your soulmate come of age, you can see shimmering sparkles, like a heat map, on things they’ve recently touched. A casual inter-house quidditch match between the returning eighth years gets a bit competitive, and Harry discovers that there's a lot more waiting for him on the other side of the war than he expected. For @harryjamespotterweek 2023, Day 5 (Quidditch, Soulmate AU) Rated T, 1.6k words. Read on ao3 here

The air whipped against his face, the sun made him squint his eyes, and Harry felt truly alive for maybe the first time since he had died. The summer had been hard, and choosing to come back for a final year at Hogwarts had been even more difficult, but this, this felt good. In the air, on a broomstick, Harry felt like he was a million miles away from the rubble on the other side of the castle, he felt like he had left all the sorrow and death behind him, and he felt like maybe it had all been worth it after all.

Of course, Malfoy had chosen that moment to collide with him, ramming him with his shoulder and knocking Harry off course. It was only a scrimmage, a casual match for the newly-christened ‘eighth year’ students to enjoy as part of a new intramural league set up to ease the blow of being excluded from the official quidditch tournament, but of course Malfoy was taking it seriously. Harry thought, as he rubbed his now-bruised shoulder, that he should perhaps be angry at Malfoy for still being so competitive, so needlessly combative during a match like this, but more than anything he felt relieved.

Everyone had been walking on eggshells the last few days, with no one quite sure how to return to lessons and friendships after a war. Even Malfoy had been infuriatingly polite and withdrawn, speaking quietly to Harry and a few others, offering sincere apologies and not expecting forgiveness, and Harry had hated it. The War was over, the suffering should end at some point too, but it seemed like it never would, and Harry just wanted things to be normal, even if he was beginning to suspect he had never truly known what that was. So, to have Draco Malfoy antagonize him during a quidditch match, petty and sneering and taunting and normal, felt like the best thing in the world.

Harry straightened himself on his broom and took off down the pitch, back in the direction of Malfoy, determined now to beat him to the snitch. He was still a few broomlengths away when he spotted it, circling near the base of a Slytherin goal post. Harry put on a burst of speed, Malfoy shadowing him so closely their knees kept knocking, and they were almost there, hands reaching out and only a foot off the ground, when the snitch looped around and came closer to Harry. They both grabbed at it, Malfoy just catching the end of a wing before Harry had it in his fist and Draco was toppling off the end of his broom.

The Gryffindors in the stands went wild, and Harry could hear Ron’s shouts of triumph from the other end of the pitch. Beaming, Harry raised the snitch in his still closed fist, realizing distantly that this was the first time he’d held one since that last walk through the Forest. He looked up at it, trying not to think about what came after that walk, what happened at the end, when-

Harry noticed something odd. One of the snitch’s wings was glittering strangely, as though it was coated in a hazy heat wave. Gingerly, he touched the glimmering wing tip and found that, although it looked as if it were radiating heat, it only tingled a little to the touch, still feeling like metal cooled by the wind.

Harry hadn’t found his soulmate yet, and he hadn’t spent much time thinking about it either. He’d only been eighteen for a month and change, and since he’d never expected to make it that far he hadn’t given much thought to who his soulmate was. Ron and Hermione hadn’t said much to him about it either. He knew it was a private thing, something for a couple to discover for themselves and to only share when they were ready, and his friends had chosen to ignore their own bond until the end of the fighting. He could still remember waking up one morning in the Forest of Dean, dragging himself out to the campfire and pausing at the entrance of the tent, not wanting to intrude on the private moment he had just walked in on. It must have been Ron’s birthday, although they’d lost track of time again and hadn’t felt much like celebrating besides. But when Harry saw the two of them by the fire, he was sure that Ron must have turned eighteen, because he and Hermione were both looking at a mug in something close to awe, each taking turns touching it gently, as though it might shatter apart if they made a sound. Finally, Hermione had schooled her features, and said, “We shouldn’t… not until- after it’s all over.”

Ron had looked pained, gazing at Hermione with something that could only be described as love and longing, before nodding and quietly saying, “Alright. Whatever you want, ‘Mione,” then leaning in and kissing her gently on the forehead. Harry had ducked back into the tent at that point, and he had pretended not to notice the way Ron looked around at all the things Hermione had recently touched, seeing a shimmer visible only to him when he came in a minute later.

Of course, Hermione’s resolve to wait on their happily ever after hadn’t held out until the end of the war, and she had kissed Ron in the Chamber of Secrets only two months later. Harry privately thought that she had made the right choice – despite her somewhat awful timing, it was nice to see his two friends finally together, openly in love, and it didn’t make sense to wait on a future that might never come, when they could be together for however many moments they had left.

Unfortunately, when Harry reflected on his best friends’ happiness after the War he was still happy for them, but found that he also felt empty inside, as though their connection had scooped out something from inside of him, far larger and more crucial than the portion of Voldemort’s soul had been. He was lonely, he had realized, and it seemed like such a petty thing to complain about in the ruin and grief left in the aftermath of everything they had come through, but something in his brain had flickered with hope at the idea of finding his own soulmate. He hadn’t been eighteen yet though, and so he pushed his feelings down and went to more funerals, alone within the grieving crowds.

Harry hadn’t thought much about his soulmate over the summer, but suddenly a conversation with Ron came back to him.

“It’s the most incredible thing, Harry. Everything Hermione touches, I can see. There’s some sort of glimmer, or something, all hazy around where her fingers were, and it’s just for me, I’m the only one who can see it.” He had looked rapturous, and Harry had been so happy for him, and almost sick with emptiness at the same time.

Now, Harry thought he understood what Ron had meant. The tip of one wing of the snitch was unlike anything else he’d ever seen, and when he looked closely he thought he could make out the smudge of fingerprints from a grasping hand. It was incredible, Harry thought, looking at the little glimmers shifting in the sunlight; he had a soulmate.

It shouldn’t have been such a shock. Everyone had a soulmate, and for most wixen it was only a matter of time until they met theirs, yet it had always seemed like such an unreachable concept for Harry, something he had never expected to live long enough to enjoy, and then something tamped down by grief. But now, looking at the shimmer on the struggling snitch still clasped in his hand, Harry could feel his world shifting. The impossible was turning into the inevitable, and everything seemed to be falling into place all at once for him. He felt good, for the first time in ages, warmed by the sun and the rush of competition and finally feeling like things were back to normal because Draco Malfoy was still a competitive arsehole, even if he was remorseful for his part in all the tragedy.

Harry rubbed his aching shoulder again, trying to think fast. The other members of the eighth year team were circling the pitch, and would be coming down to land beside him in a moment. He knew who his soulmate was, and it made all the sense in the world, because of course it would be Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who had tormented him, who Harry had followed and watched, who had always been focused on getting Harry’s attention and who had risked quite a lot to save Harry at the Manor, only to be saved by Harry in return a few months later. Of course, it was Malfoy, they’d been in each other’s orbit since the very beginning, obsessive and intense and every other strong feeling except for love. So, of course, the universe would see to that too.

Harry took a deep breath and looked around. Ron was going to land in just a second, the rest of the team would be close behind. Draco was a few feet away, returning to his fellow Slytherins with only a faint air of frustration surrounding him, and none of the anger Harry had grown accustomed to watching lash out after other lost matches. Harry was standing in the sun, truly enjoying the peace they had won for the first time after the war, and he decided that he wanted to see how far it could go. Turning away from the swarming Gryffindors, he held out his hand and called out, watching Malfoy turn around to regard him with an open, curious expression.

“Hey Draco, I think there’s something you should see.”

#hjpweek2023 #drarry #drarry fic #romione #(the romione is background but also might be my favourite part of this fic)#my fic #my writing #quidditch #soulmate au #everything your soulmate touches shimmers for a little bit for only you to see #i'm posting this a day late because of computer troubles

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aroaceleovaldez · 6 months

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hello i believe you asked to be reminded about petalpressed? that sounds very interesting do explain

Hello yes! okay so rundown of Petalpressed:

In general, Petalpressed is an AU template I created that focuses on flower symbolism. It's like a combo hanahaki and soulmate tattoos au, except only taking the best parts of both. So everybody has a "living" tattoo somewhere on their body of a plant (or plant-adjacent, it's very broad - so fungi, lichens, algae, etc also count). The plant, in some way, represents or symbolizes the individual, usually via flower language, though it's totally a personalized thing so you can get as funky with it as you want. It can be absolutely anywhere on their body (face/head, back, legs, etc), take up a completely random amount of space (tip of finger vs entire torso, etc), and it will change based on the state of the individual.

Okay rest including PJO-ification under the cut cause this got long:

For example, when the person is a baby their tattoo will appear as just a seed or bulb or whatever is applicable for that plant. The plant will also probably be semi-ambiguous at that point or change plant types as babies don't really have a ton of defining traits. By the time they start settling into being an individual they'll get a more clear plant and it will most likely stay that for the rest of their lives, unless they experience a major shift in their identity that would cause it to change. It also is unlikely to change locations on the body unless for the same reason. The plant will also reflect the person's physical or emotional state, such as wilting if they're very sick or upset, blooming if they're extremely happy, etc etc. Some people may also have generalized versus specific tattoos, such as general "roses" rather than "roses of a specific color" in which case their tattoo may change colors to match mood/plant language associated with that specific color of the plant/or just at random, depending on person.

The soulmate/hanahaki thing comes in when the person develops romantic feelings or enters a mutual romantic relationship (specific because i'm aroace so I like including normalization of not having a partner, even QPP - there's still leeway there though with how individuals categorize "romantic" and obviously it's a template so there's freedom to mess with it). If they have a crush they may start coughing up the plant or parts of the plant associated with that person, though it doesn't cause them any physical harm. Does the coughing-up-petals thing go away once the relationship is reciprocated or is it just a thing that Happens When You're In Love Sometimes At Random? Who knows. You decide. If they enter a mutual romantic relationship with someone, their partner's (or partners') plants or a part of their plants will appear beside their own, and will change depending on the state of the relationship or partner's physicality or emotions. If their relationship is going well, the plant may bloom, if it's going poorly it may wilt, etc, and same if the partner(s) are upset/sick/etc. If the relationship breaks off or is no longer reciprocated the secondary plant will disappear, and if it left a particularly strong impact on the individual, residual parts of the partner/partners' plant(s) may be left behind, such as leaves, seeds, or petals. It depends on the person/relationship if those remnants will ever go away or how long it may take.

"Plant compatibility" is totally a horoscope-type thing in this universe alongside stereotypes of types of plants, and that's where the "soulmate" concept comes in. It is up to discretion if it is actual soulmates or just coincidental, but in-universe there is an idea of "If you share an exact plant with somebody, you are soulmates." Again, re: horoscope thing, here it could totally just be a coincidental thing based on "If you share a plant that is meant to symbolize you, chances are you have similar personalities and so will get along." There may be people with the total opposite perspective - "Don't date someone with the same plant" because maybe having similar personalities means you'll totally clash. Those concepts probably co-exist in practicality. Lots of variety. Also totally up to customization if the plants have to be local to where the person's from or be from anywhere or how much you want to stretch the definition of "plant" or etc etc. Lots of fiddling options.

I do have a sideblog for it as a more generalized template - @petal-pressed. Since it's a template, it's meant to be applicable to any fandom and totally free to use, and I occasionally post prompts on that blog. And again, the template intentionally lots of room for fiddling and freedom.

Anyways the PJOification of all of this:

"What ships are this au" Whatever's funniest/most dramatic in the moment. Go wild. Make your own variations or whatever.

Everybody's plants: (subject to change)

Percy & Annabeth - Bluebells (They match) - Annabeth's on arm where she got stabbed, Percy on small of back.

Grover - False goat's beard, placement undecided

Piper - Anemone (plant not animal), placement undecided

Jason - Forget-me-nots, right forearm

Leo - Hydrangea, placement undecided

Hazel - Clover, possibly forearm

Frank - Undecided but Snapdragons maybe, possibly forearm

Reyna - Jonquil, possibly forearm

Nico - Dandelions, wrist

Will - Sunflowers, side of torso/back

Luke - Originally Lilacs on face, changes to Rhododendron and spreads to shoulder/armpit.

Thalia - Eastern White Pine, placement undecided

Calypso - Undecided but Hibiscus or Zinnia maybe, placement undecided

I have some other notes for other characters but theyre all very noncommittal

I made a lot of random moodboards for this au but since they were just for personal use I don't have the credits for the images and so will not post those. If people are interested I might take requests to make new ones though. They're quite fun for me to make.

And random doodles - The first one is an extremely old one that was just me fiddling with random designs + cameo Solangelo to show off how the plant tattoos might look

And then some more recent ones:

I usually do aro/ace Leo for these aus, so here's him pretending to cough up plants as if he had a crush ^

and some silly Jasico ^

Some other misc fun notes I had for random things:

"Is this canon-verse au or non-canon-verse?" you may be asking. The answer is. Depends. You decide. Again this is not a fully fledged singular au it's just me rotating a template in my brain and it happened to be formed around PJO initially.

Because Percy and Annabeth both have bluebells as their flower, when Percy disappears and loses his memory, both he and Annabeth can't tell if they have only their own flowers or the flowers of two people and it totally freaks them out.

Also because they share flowers, when Nico has his crush on Percy and is thus coughing up bluebells, people presume he has a crush on Annabeth because those are her flowers too. He's not having a great time.

One variant of the thoughts my friends and I brainstormed for Jason was that he and Reyna were dating before he disappeared, and when he lost his memory it also made Reyna's flowers disappear from his tattoo completely. It took longer for Jason's flowers to fade from Reyna's tattoo and she just got to watch Jason's flowers change depending on his state wherever he was until they disappeared too.

Nymphs are obviously pretty one-for-one with their plant. If they even have tattoos is up to you. Either way this does mean Lavinia is coughing up poison oak though so she's having a bit of a rough time. She thinks it's totally worth it though. The coughed-up plants don't really hurt you as bad as the actual plant might, if at all, so she's fine in general.

I had other thoughts too but i'm forgetting.

uhh anyways yeah i think that's about it. woo flower au.

#pjo #riordanverse #ask #spaceyaceylesbian #petalpressed #au #my art #ask to tag #yippee. this au is very fun to me #just cause you can mess around with a lot of stuff #i do have other doodles/designs of this au if anyone is curious to see those #but they're general random designs not pjo-specific #again this is basically me looking at both hanahaki and soulmate tattoo aus and going ''im going to take the fun parts of both of these''#''and just ditch the rest''#still plenty of angst potential if that's your jam but also way easier to keep it fluffy #also i only half-proofread this so if clarification or further detail is wanted on anything feel free to ask #i am always happy to talk petalpressed i think it's neat

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