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WWGM drabbles 1: soulmate AU by Effsnares, literature
Literature
WWGM drabbles 1: soulmate AU
Soulmate AU: everything is in black and white until you make eye contact with your soulmate. Soulmates can be familial, platonic or romantic, and all are equally accepted and revered in the society.
GOLD
Gold’s world has been a stark whirl of greys and whites and blacks all his life. He supposes that if he really ever bought into this nonsense about romance or belonging, he would feel some type of way about that - but as it were, he’s never really thought about it too hard. Never looked for a flash of bright new fireworks in a stranger’s eyes, never waxed poetic about colours he knows by heart but not by sight. His world is plenty rich and vivid in black and white; he knows the grey of the setting sun that reflects in his mom’s eyes, he knows the pearly hue of the soft skin under Lyra’s throat, he knows the dark slate of Nettie’s velvety soft leaves.
When he meets Silver’s eyes - well, not for the first time, as he’s later reminded, but in New Bark Town - he, for a moment, thinks
What The Water Gave Me :: Episode Lyra (prequel) by Effsnares, literature
Literature
What The Water Gave Me :: Episode Lyra (prequel)
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CW: this is a lot sadder than WWGM is in general, and includes references to underage recreational drug use and unhealthy relationships.
The realization that Lyra’s little brother is slipping through her fingers is sudden.
It’s not like Lyra’s relationship with Kris has been - easy, not for many years now. Not when they were four and six years old and suddenly living with their grandmother, neither one of them old enough to fully understand why their parents couldn’t be with them anymore.
Not when they were fifteen and seventeen and Lyra stood firm, allowing a handful of soil slip through her spread fingers and form a small pile onto the lacquered black lid of the coffin. Although, that time - it hadn’t been sudden, not really. It had been a gradual, inevitable change, visible in the deepening lines on grandmother’s face, the slowing of her shuffling steps. That time, Lyra hadn’t been surprised by it. She didn’t cry at the funeral.