#Soulbound Descriptions

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Tides of fate (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which your newly returned husband is unsure of the path ahead, and the sea itself tries to deter you from the one you choose together

Warnings: evil!reader, smut (sneaky handjob in a public place, brief descriptions of p in v), probably inaccuracies of canon geography/lore to suit the fic, somewhat repentant Sauron stands a teeny tiny chance of being better but reader is an ‘I can make him worse’ kinda girl

Note: part of the evil!reader collection. If you’re new, reader has been married/soulbound to Sauron since before Adar killed him and infiltrated herself in Eregion as a smith while she waited for his return, but came to find him when his presence became strong enough through their bond again.

Mature content below the cut—minors DNI!!!

Halbrand.

Whilst the other passengers on the ship are asleep, he lies awake with his new name and his new face, heading into what is to be a new life. He has yet to decide whether it should be different from the one before, but one thing he knows beyond all certainty—you shall be by his side, body and soul, until existence itself is no more.

You lie in his arms as he sits reclined against a pile of cargo, with your head resting upon his heart. Even aslumber, you seem to cling to him, your fingers ever so slightly curled in the ragged shirt he wears. Halbrand himself refrains from tightening his hold around your waist to the point where he might wake you, and contents himself only with soft caresses of your hair as he cradles you close. Weeks after you had nursed him back to his solid form, there are still times when you feel you must convince yourselves that you are together once more, and the long wait is over.

It had taken a while for the frenzy to pass, once he had been remade. For his newly woven flesh to find relief, if only in part, from the yearning with which it burned for yours.

The first time he’d had you in this body is a blur in his mind, nothing left of it but white-hot flashes of rampant breathing, wails and growls, skin slapping against skin. No sooner had he breathed the air into his new lungs than he had claimed your mouth, fell with you to the ground on the very spot where his new feet had first touched it, and begged to have his wife. A beast rutting into his mate in the snow is what he had been reduced to. On an open trail, beneath the open sky, he had ploughed into you with wild abandon, searing the pleasure of every thrust into his soul as if it would be the last he ever tastes.

He had not known, when last you had been by his side before Adar’s betrayal, that you would be out of his reach for centuries to come, that the very memory of his beloved’s embrace would slip from his grasp with the long years, sunk into the black depths of a rudimentary shape which had forgotten what it was to feel at all. And so the moment he had at last regained a form that could, he had grasped, seized, clawed the feeling of being one with you back into himself.

And you had sunk your nails into his new flesh, christened it with scratches, marking it as yours. He remembers your tight heat, your shrill moans, your tears as you begged him for more, even after your peak. He remembers his frustrated curses when his fresh, tragically human form had softened beyond his control after spilling inside you only once, and your sweet laugh in his ear, nowhere near judgmental as you reassured him that with time, his Maia prowess shall return to spare him such tedious whims of a mortal’s flesh.

“You are still extraordinary, my love,” you had praised with an adoring nibble of his humanly round ear. “A true mortal man as starved as you would not have even made it all the way inside.”

It was, perhaps, for the best. For you might have fucked the very life out of yourself on his cock in those first few days, if not for the occasional need for respite. His partial oblivion, though nothing short of agonizing, had stripped him, at times, of the knoweldge of what he was missing. Your longing for your husband had shredded your heart through every single moment of the centuries you had been apart, vivid as ever in your mind and soul. The hollow in your bond had never subsided into anything less than a freshly severed limb, forever bleeding from an open wound. The only reason you had not withered away was that last glimmer of feeling, barely there but undeniably real, that your husband had not passed beyond your reach completely and forever.

For weeks you had remained in those woods, unwilling to do anything but be together. Even if you weren’t making love, you were hardly ever not touching, and it cost you even to pry yourselves away to hunt or gather wood—an effort that much greater since his prowess did gradually return, as you had been most certain that it would.

As you lay in his arms, you spoke to him of the world, all the ways it had changed and all the ways it had not. The dealings of Elves, Dwarves and Men nowadays. The life you had secured for yourself in Eregion, the opportunities it held. A power over flesh. All it did was remind him of the last words he had spoken to Adar’s wretched Orcs before they had butchered him, and the only power he found himself craving was that of feeling your flesh, beneath, against and around his. And you were oh so willing to grant it to him.

The last night before your voyage, you had looked so beautiful, bathed in moonlight and the warm glow of the fire beside you as you rode your husband slowly, savouring every drag of his cock within you. He sat up, holding you close, watching in awe as you took what you needed, and gave him all he craved. His tears do not spill easily, but they had burned behind his eyes as you threw back your head and cried out your release, bringing forth his own. You were everything. His wife. His soul.

His Queen.

He had once sworn he would not rest until the whole of Middle-Earth had been brought to its knees to worship the pair of you, side by side. That nothing less would ever be enough.

Lying beside you by the fire, he was not so certain anymore.

“My love,” he had whispered as you ran your fingers through his unruly hair, “where do you wish to go?”

It was the first time either of you had spoken of your heading, rather than acting as though where you were now was all there was.

You had frowned ever so slightly, as though surprised he even had to ask, and murmured, “With you.”

The following morning, you began your journey. Eregion was your destination, as you had anticipated all throughout his long absence. To follow his weak presence through your bond and find him in Forodwaith, you had left your false life with the Elves claiming to be visiting distant kin. He had yet to spin a tale justifying his joining you upon your return, and he found it more difficult than usual to do so when he didn’t seem to be sure of his goal once you had reached the Elven kingdom. You noticed, of course, but kept your mind at a thoughtful distance, knowing he would speak his in his own time.

When a group of Men crossed your path, it was the first time since his return that you were in the presence of others. With the bit of shape-shifting ability received from your husband upon the forging of your bond, you had made the pointed tips of your ears recede into a round shape to match your husband’s current one. You were to pass as human travellers, unworthy of a second glance.

But an old man, whose name Halbrand had later learned to be Diarmid, halted to inform you of the danger ahead. You must have spent longer in Forodwaith than you thought, for you had not encountered the armies of Orcs described by Diarmid when you had come seeking your husband. The man had spoken of embracing the uncertain tides of fate in hopes of a brighter future—a sentiment embodied, in his view, by a piece of heraldry he wore which had belonged to kings long gone, whose mighty path had crumbled as easily as a less fortunate one might prove to lead into a better place.

This belief of the man touched something in Halbrand, birthed a dim spark of a feeling akin to hope. You, on the other hand, did not seem as affected by his words, or his warm invitation for you and your husband to join his people on their intended voyage to a new life across the sea. No sooner had he moved on than you began to scheme.

“A symbol of royalty with no one left to claim it? That might prove useful,” you said under your breath as the two of you remained standing by the passing group of Men. “We could take it, and their ship. Sail to Lindon instead of risking a run-in with Orcs on the way to Eregion. I have quite enough connections there as well.”

You didn’t need to speak the details for him to know the exact intent behind your words. He was stronger in his power now than he had been when this body was fresh, and you were a force to be reckoned with yourself. The two of you fighting as one could cut through the humans like butter, leaving only enough to man the ship to your desired destination under your forceful command. It would have been easy enough, nothing you hadn’t done before.

“Or perhaps we might sail with them,” Halbrand suggested instead, driven by a sudden impulse.

“Into the West?” you asked quizzically, trying to figure out a purpose of which he was not sure himself. “Is there something you wish to achieve in Númenor, or thereabouts?”

“What I wish,” he said, meeting your eyes, “is for you to come with me.”

Like you’d said you would.

And you did. With but a curious look and a slight furrow of your brow, you placed your hand in his and joined him on this new path, though neither of you was sure where it would lead.

After the weeks—or had it been months?—spent in a near perpetual embrace in the wilderness, the lack of privacy on the ship proved quite the challenge. For plain communication, your bond would have sufficed, but even there a certain veil of concealment had fallen between you. For the more you began to suspect where his intentions might be straying, the less eager you were to breach the subject.

But you hardly ever left one another’s side, and spent each night in the closest embrace appropriate to the rather crowded circumstances, as you are doing now. He never sleeps, and pretending to do so would be a most tedious chore for the sake of avoiding suspicion, if it weren’t for his wife nestled comfortably within his arms. Some nights, however, he finds himself too deep in troubled thoughts for his eyes to remain closed, and that hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“Nightmares again?” Diarmid questions, lifting his head from his own makeshift pillow closeby. He lowers his eyes to you as he says with a knowing lilt, “One would think such a warm embrace can bring peace to even the most troubled of minds.”

His remark lacks any trace of envy, his gaze on you admiring without coveting, and so Halbrand is not enraged by either. He looks down, his eyes following the soft trails drawn by his fingers as they caress your hair.

“She is all the peace I know,” he murmurs.

“But you are haunted still.”

His fingers halt, resting upon your head.

“I’ve done evil,” he confesses. We have done evil, would be the more truthful statement. But so charming and joyful you had made yourself appear to your fellow passengers, he would be taken for a liar. He can only imagine how loved you are in Eregion—how loved you would be anywhere.

“All of us have done things that we care not to admit,” Diarmid replies, seemingly unfazed by Halbrand’s grim admission. How naïve for a mortal man of his age, the Maia thinks, to so easily give the benefit of his doubt to a near stranger.

“Not like I have,” he presses on. What is the purpose of this conversation, he wonders? To test whether he would be cast out? To hear the man lie again, that there is another path for him than that of suffering he has known so far?

Is that a lie?

Diarmid ponders his words. “Your wife,” he says then, as if in answer to his inner musings. “How did you come to be wed?”

You had maintained that much truth in your façade, for obvious reasons. It is a piece of truth Halbrand reveals now as well.

“We were undone,” he says in a dark rasp, “and we remade ourselves by swallowing each other whole.”

A hoarse chuckle escapes the old man. “What a way you have with words, lad. Isn’t that a most dreary manner of saying you have healed one another?” When Halbrand looks at him, guarded, he thankfully knows better than to insist upon the details. “And she knows of this... evil you say you have done?”

Halbrand gives a nod.

“And yet,” Diarmid says, voice softening with a kind of wise tenderness, “she looks at you as though you hold the very sun above her head in the palm of your hand.”

A most uninspired metaphor. Sunlight had become too bright for your eyes, after years spent in the dark heat of Morgoth’s fortress. You do not thrive in it, but rather under grey skies, with cold air caressing your cheeks. But the sentiment he means to express is perfectly true.

“And it is plain to see,” Diarmid adds, “that you love her a great deal as well.”

There is not a single false word in that sentence. You give the lightest stir in your husband’s arms, softly nuzzling his shirt in your sleep, and Halbrand, Sauron, Mairon—everything and everyone he had ever been burns with adoration as he holds you just that little bit closer.

“You cannot imagine,” he murmurs, with nearly as raw a sincerity as only you can draw from him.

Diarmid laughs warmly. “Oh, I can, lad,” he says with a trace of wistfulness. “I can.”

His eyes drift to the distance, as he no doubt remembers some past love of his. And a great one it may have been, but he shall never know what it is to bind his very soul with another’s, to be so inextricably intertwined as the pair of you have made yourselves to be.

Halbrand says nothing, leaving the old man to his imaginings. But Diarmid soon returns from them, and gives his supposed younger a sage look.

“So, you see,” he goes on, “whatever you’ve done in your past, she has forgiven it. Now, you must find forgiveness within yourself. You are alive, holding the woman you love in your arms, because you have chosen good.”

“What of tomorrow?” Halbrand asks, almost a challenge.

“You have to choose it again.” Diarmid gives a small chuckle, as though the answer is most obvious. “And the next day, and the next, until it becomes a part of your nature.”

His nature. Good had been his nature. Once.

He wonders, had you met him as Mairon, whether your souls would still be as one now. Whether you might have lived as Melian and Thingol did, rulers over a kingdom of light, protectors against Morgoth’s darkness rather than partial cause of its spread.

But it feels like a betrayal to imagine a love any different than the one he has known with you, even if it’s still a version of you with whom he contemplates such a thing. Because in the end, it would not be you. Morgoth had stripped you of the Elf you had been as brutally as he had disposed of the once Mairon, though with the Maia, he had made the pain seem so much sweeter in the beginning. You had not fallen in love with songs and poems, with you dancing in a field of flowers and him finding himself struck dumb by your beauty. Your bond had been forged in the hottest and cruellest of flames, and was all the stronger for it. This all-consuming passion, this ruthless obsession of yours, which scorches everything and everyone in its path—nothing less would ever suffice.

Seeing that Halbrand has become lost in thought upon hearing his words, Diarmid gives him one last friendly smile and pat upon his shoulder, then turns away to settle back to sleep. Not long after, quiet snores begin to leave him.

That is when you give a light hum, and shift so that your cheek rests on your husband’s shoulder and your eyes meet.

“What a way you have with words, lad,” you tease softly.

The slightest smile tugs at Halbrand’s lips. “It isn’t proper to eavesdrop.”

“It seemed as though you were having a moment.” Your teasing smile dims as you add, even more quietly, “It seemed as though you wanted it.”

You bring your hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb through the light stubble that now adorns it. You seem to like this form of his, imperfectly human as it is, and nothing pleases him quite like pleasing you. His eyes fall shut as he leans into your touch, taking your wrist in a gentle hold and pressing his lips to the palm of your beloved hand.

“My love...” he begins, but you rest your fingertips upon his mouth.

“I know.” You sigh, letting your hand fall back to his chest. “I know. You’ve been... different, since you have returned. Not only in body. After all this time, what you have endured... I know you are faltering. That you lack direction.”

“And yet you followed me blindly.”

“Always,” you smile, though it’s short-lived. “But... if forgiveness is what you seek... from them...” Your brow creases, voice becoming pained as you lift your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze properly. “My love, we have been here once before.”

“I know,” he says firmly, wrapping your hand in his. “I would not take such a risk again.”

Like he did at the end of the First Age. When, in the wake of Morgoth’s defeat, he’d had a mind to seek pardon from the Valar rather than await their retribution. He had witnessed their might as they decimated his master’s dark forces, and Sauron himself now lacked an army with which to retaliate, should they seek him out. All he had was you, and in his wish to keep you, and in the haze of his new-found freedom from Morgoth’s clenched fist, he had entertained the thought that perhaps the Valar might consider your union, a defiance of Morgoth in itself, to be proof of your renouncing his authority even since before his defeat. Surely, they could be persuaded that all, or at least most of your vile deeds, had been for the sake of each other, to spare your beloved from Morgoth’s wrath. And to a certain extent, it was true.

But the opposite happened. The Valar had deemed your bond unnatural, volatile, forged in too deep a darkness to be anything but a force of destruction. If you truly wished to be pardoned, you were to allow it to be undone. He was to return to Valinor whilst you remained in Middle-Earth, serving to rebuild what Morgoth had destroyed until you had proven beyond doubt you had put your foul ways behind you. Only then would you be allowed passage into the West to be rejoined with your husband, should your love endure such prolonged distance and transformation from the beings you had been when you met.

Servitude would already have been nigh impossible to swallow. But separation—that was unfathomable. It was cruelty beyond imagining, from beings who had the audacity to claim they were righteous and fair. You and your husband had been left with no choice, then, but to seek out a power which would make you gods in your own right. Power over flesh, power over Middle-Earth.

Separation came anyway, only in a different form, the path you had most wanted to evade forced upon you by Adar’s treachery instead of the Valar’s so-called justice. But as great a blow as it might have been, the aftershocks of it spanning over so much time, it didn’t break either of you beyond repair. As Sauron, he has known many setbacks, failures, betrayals. He is not afraid. Even when he sought pardon before, he tells himself, he was being cautious, practical.

But he is, perhaps... tired. So tired.

“You told me you have no wish to return to your life with the Elves,” he breaks the silence you had let fall between you, patiently awaiting the further words you sensed he had to say. “Númenor is said to be a paradise, ripe with opportunity. A smith of great skill and his equally gifted wife are most likely to thrive in such a place.”

Though he speaks in statements, you hear the question they conceal. You had long suspected he had been harbouring such thoughts, and your eyes shift uneasily upon hearing them.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought of it,” you confess in the end. “That perhaps we might simply... be together, as so many others are, and that would be enough. But even if we could find it in ourselves to put Middle-Earth behind us and let Adar go unpunished for what he did...” Your hand grips his painfully as you shut your eyes for a moment, striving not to raise your voice above a tense whisper. “I cannot bear to live in fear any longer. Wondering whether or not the Valar will finally deem us worthy or harmless enough to leave us be. Seeking to appease a higher power whose breath is constantly at the back of my neck even when I cannot see it, like... like he was. Is that not why we put such thoughts aside before, and sought to claim the power that we did? To gain control, bring about a new order—our order?” You lean in closer, the despair in your eyes giving way to determination as you stare into his with each and every searing word. “You know we are meant to be more than this. The Valar may not favour us, but fate does. It’s why our paths crossed in the first place, and why we found our way back to each other time and again, despite Morgoth, and Adar, and all who would have seen us apart. It’s why we will prevail.”

It’s so taxing, keeping the intensity of your words’ sentiment quiet, that the release comes in the form of tears slipping from your eyes. Your husband’s brow creases, leaving your hand to lie upon his quickening heart as he cups both of your cheeks.

“All this time...” he whispers, thumbs brushing your tears like they are priceless gems, “all these centuries, you have kept your faith in our vision. In us.”

He knows all too well how strong you are, how ruthless in your resolve, but sometimes, the sheer might of your devotion to him still knocks the breath from his lungs.

A teary chuckle escapes you. “Had you not spent all those centuries as a barely sentient liquid, I’m sure you’d have done the same. Not to mention,” you add, seeking to lighten the mood with a touch of coyness, “you promised me a crown, my love. And I shall not let you rest until you have put it upon my head, and I have known what it is to be a true Queen, worshipped by all beings,” you lean so that your lips ghost over his as you whisper alluringly, “and by her King most ardently of all.”

He gives in with a subdued groan, catches your lips in a fleeting kiss—then presses a thumb to the soft flesh beneath your chin to better his hold on you and keep you at bay.

“My love,” he rasps out in warning, eyes roving over your face, “do not tempt me so when I cannot have you as I please.”

A wicked smile spreads across your lips, and your softly-spoken words are the sweetest siren song, calling him to his doom. “You can have me, my love. We can have anything we wish.” Your hand begins a most audacious journey down his chest and along his tensing stomach, disappearing beneath the blanket covering the both of you above the waist. “They are nothing,” you go on, nimbly working open his trousers. “What they see, what they think of us now, will be nothing once we have brought them under our rule.”

Even with the blanket covering you, if someone were to look closely, they would likely be able to discern the precise location and intent of your hand. Quite frankly, Halbrand cannot bring himself to care if they did notice either, not when his wife takes his flesh in a nearly cruel grip. His cock grows and hardens in helpless answer to your beckoning, and this, he thinks for the one thousandth time, is the sole kind of helplessness which sets his blood aboil with desire rather than rage. It takes but a few strokes, dry and curt, and he is swollen, aching, the veins in his neck straining as he bites back a growl.

As for you, it’s a struggle not to rub yourself against his leg like a warg in heat. But it is his pleasure you wish to achieve, not your own. You press your lips to those captivating lines of tension on his neck, and swipe a thumb over the tip of him to find it wet. He remains discreet in sound, if not in expression, but you feel the spike of his pleasure through your bond as you keep caressing that most sensitive part of his cock. All of a sudden, his hand is at the back of your neck, and he pulls you down so that your cheek is pushed into his chest, his chin resting the slightest bit too heavily upon your head. Like this, you feel his rampant heartbeat, his ragged breathing, the tremors you send throughout his body with each and every stroke of his length.

It’s an illusion of control, he knows, crushing you to his chest whilst the heart within it contorts and threatens to unspool back into a pile of black slime, taken apart by your words and touch. He lets you break from his hold the moment you rebel out of it, and plant your chin upon his shoulder.

“I kept my faith, because I could see us,” you whisper, your hot breath in his ear plunging straight to his cock as you pump him into a silent frenzy. “I can see what we will become, and it is so... so beautiful. Do you see us, love?” you all but whimper, as though your words alone bring you as much pleasure as the glide of his length within your fist does him. “Can you see your Queen, spread upon our throne... wearing nothing but the jewels you have given me and the crown upon my head... as your tongue swears fealty between my legs? Can you see me do the same, on my knees before my Lord and King?”

Oh, he can. So many times he’s had you, in so many ways, but the thought of you worshipping each other whilst you are being worshipped across all of Middle-Earth, taking pleasure in one another as well as the symbols of your power... That had always wrought a particular kind of havoc upon his loins, proportionate in might to the high brought by the prospect of victory in itself. And you know that damn well, as well as all the right ways to caress and graze and squeeze and knead to play his body like a harp into the very melody you wish to elicit, regardless of the form he takes, for you might as well be nestled beneath his skin, living and breathing among the strings you so deftly pluck with your ruinous fingertips. Your touch, your words, moulding his mind as you please—is this what one feels like, he wonders, when Sauron the Deceiver slithers his way into their unsuspecting thoughts?

But this is no deceit. This is his wife, his soul, reminding him of his true self, just as you did when you first found what had been left of him in Forodwaith, and put him back together. His hips jerk into the movements of your hand, seeking you out, uncaring of the people who might wake and see him being undone by your touch. You are right. They are nothing. You are all there is, and all there ever shall be.

You chuckle as he chases his breath, and bite his earlobe—hard. It may not be the sensitive tip of an Elf’s pointed ear, but the jolt of pain lights a fire beneath his skin that scorches everything in its path, and no amount of control over his form could have prevented him from spilling his seed right there and then. The growl he lets loose would have surely roused those sleeping closest by, if not for your sudden grip on his throat and lips covering his, swallowing his rough breaths. He spills and spills as you stroke him through his release, until the exquisite throbbing in his cock has finally run its most fulfilling course.

To think there was a time he knew not what it was to crave another, nor did he care to know—and then he had known you. The pleasure of his flesh might as well have your initials engraved into it.

You loosen your grip on his throat as you break the kiss, and that hand goes instead to tenderly brush a lock of dark hair from his temple. You seem awfully pleased with yourself when he opens his eyes into yours, and he doesn’t shy away from admitting that you very well should be. The hand with which you had pleasured him emerges from beneath the blanket with his spent glistening on your fingers, and you hold his gaze as you rest the digits on his bottom lip. The tip of his tongue darts out slightly, tasting what you have done to him. What you always do. He wraps his lips around your fingers, scrapes them lightly with his teeth, and something softens in your eyes.

“I want more,” you whisper, nothing short of a goddess reduced to her most vulnerable self. “I want everything. But I need only for you to want me.”

His new heart lurched in his chest. As if he could ever stop. As if there could ever be more, be anything, if there was no you and him.

He knows much better than to take your words as an admittance of defeat, however. If he truly were to demand that you renounce your aspirations, you would be furious. You would fight and fuck him in every way you could think of to change his mind, but you would follow him wherever he went. As he would you. There is no such thing as choosing to leave one another’s side, unless you have reason to believe that your temporary separation shall serve to make you all the more fruitful in your shared endeavours upon your reunion.

Your shared endeavours is what they still are. What they always have been. He sees that now, clearer than ever.

Having released your fingers, his mouth claims yours in a bruising kiss. You moan into it, too loud, too desperate, but neither of you cares. He truly abandons all caution, pulling you into his lap by your waist, and you grind your clothed core into his newly hardening cock as soon as you are astride him, and damn these people, damn your ruse, he is going to have you, fully and unrestrained, right here in their midst. It matters not, for most will be dead soon either way. For you will take the ship for yourselves, just like you first suggested, and sail back to Middle-Earth to claim it as your own. And he means to tell you this whilst you ride him, just as you are reaching your peak, and send you careening into it with this sweetest promise like you had done him—

Something’s wrong. Even in the heat of passion he feels it, and every muscle in his body stiffens. You break away at once, alarmed by his alarm.

“Hold on to me,” is all the warning he has time to give you.

Not a soul on the ship remains asleep when it takes the first hit, water flooding into the hull through shattered wood. It’s everywhere, bursting through holes in the walls and pouring down the stairs from the deck, and you barely manage to scramble to your feet before the next blow lands, and the next. You do try to keep your grip on each other, but end up bracing yourselves against the pile of cargo on which you had been resting so you don’t get knocked off your feet. At the very least, he manages to hastily refasten his trousers. Not that anyone would care if they caught a glimpse of a man’s privates at a time like this—but in his flailing circumstances, it isn’t quite the power move it would have been if he were shamelessly buried to the hilt inside you for all to see.

“Was that—?”

“Yes,” he answers you gruffly. “Sea worm.”

“Is that a problem?” you ask urgently, ever so pragmatic even as your chest heaves through the sudden panic.

He isn’t sure. He feels recovered enough, but he can’t say whether his ability to sway the creature’s mind is good as new until he’s come face to face with it. He’s about to go and find out, when a voice screams, “Help me!”

It’s Diarmid who cried out, trapped beneath a wooden beam that had collapsed upon him. Bleeding from a head wound, he looks to Halbrand in despair. No one else even stops to look, the other passengers scurrying around in a frenzy, as if there is anywhere to run.

Halbrand and you make no move. Your gazes meet as you wait with bated breath for his choice, even in the midst of chaos.

Whatever you’ve done in your past, she has forgiven it.

If anything, you should forgive him for ever faltering in his resolve. There is no such thing as a man called Halbrand, or as you and him disappearing in the crowd. You shall be everywhere, standing above everything and everyone, as you were always meant to.

He leans over Diarmid, grabbing hold of the fallen beam atop him—only to snatch the pouch bearing a king’s symbol from his neck, the Maia’s pitiless eyes staring into the man’s terrified ones. He turns to the beautiful sight of your smile, proud and relieved, and a smirk blooms on his own lips. Screams fill the ship as it is ripped to shreds, but you put your hand in his and pull him towards the deck with an exhilarated “Come on!”, and for a moment he suspects this feeling in his chest might be akin to what a young man would experience, if he were being whisked into the unknown by a rebellious first love.

And like the folly of such youth, it doesn’t last. Your hand slips from his as the ship falls apart, swallowed whole by the ocean, and he is submerged into an underwater field of shattered woods and floating bodies. He has lost you from his sight, but he knows you’re alive. He knows he is still lord over beasts as well, when the sea worm obeys the command in his eyes and abandons its attack, swimming away. Perhaps the effort of imposing his will on such a great creature is still too taxing. Perhaps that’s why the pulse of your life is as vivid as ever within your bond, but feels further away. The water is dark, and you are strong—he feels is. You are soon to surface.

But when he emerges from the sea, grabbing hold of a floating piece of wood, you are nowhere in sight.

He waits. Waits, then dives back in.

The bodies he finds are all corpses.

You are alive.

But you are gone.

His scream is lost in the black depths of the sea.

*****

As soon as you break through the surface, gasping for air, you know something is terribly amiss.

For one, there is no one in sight. No ship, no people, no sea worm. Then, there is the rising sun, when moments ago it had been little past midnight, and land in sight when you had been most certain you were in the middle of the sea. And most poignant of all, there is distance—great and sudden, between you and your husband.

He is well, though, and even more so now that he has felt you reaching out to him. The spark of relief echoing through your bond is the only reason you do not immediately despair. You have an inkling of what might have occurred. But you save your energy for swimming towards the distant shore, channeling your ire into each kick of the water.

How do the Valar expect you to renounce your bitterness towards them, when they do their very best to fuel it with every given occasion?

*****

He breathes easy at last. He had known you were alive all along, but the gnawing emptiness where your consciousness should have been had not ceased to churn within his chest until he’d felt you, aware and present in your bond once more.

For you to have drifted away, so quickly and so far... it was no natural occurrence.

There’s a presence he’d felt. A watching. Sickly familiar, and he knows not how, but—they knew. Perhaps you had invoked them one too many times, and Ulmo himself had reached out with a watery tendril of his power to snatch you from your husband’s reach. Whether in punishment or warning, it matters not. For in his haste to part you, the Vala had failed to prevent a great opportunity from landing right into his great enemy’s lap—or rather, swimming her way onto his raft.

Galadriel.

He knows her name. How could he not? Sister of Finrod, daughter of Finarfin. A mighty Elven warrior, hailed as the fairest of Elven women, the very light of the Trees of Valinor supposedly snared in her tresses. It’s hard to tell, with her golden hair soaked and clinging to her shoulders. But her beauty concerns him little. Once he has taken Middle-Earth, he thinks, he shall have the tongue of any being who dares suggest another might be fairer than his Queen.

You’ve reached the shore, he senses, back in Middle-Earth. To Galadriel, he speaks half-truths of hateful Orcs that chased him from his homeland, but within himself, he smiles. So, they dare not kill you, still, especially after they were proven right to hesitate in doing so before—when the Orcs had robbed him of his form, his power had burst from the remains of him with such anguished fury, Forodwaith had been reduced to an icy wasteland. Should your bond be severed as violently, there is no telling what horrors that gaping wound might unleash. The Valar have revealed their fear once more, and it serves to remind him why the two of you have nothing to fear.

You were right, my love, he thinks. The message may not reach you word for word, but he knows it will be crystal clear in your mind. Though some may seek to part us, the tides of fate are flowing ever in our favour. Make for Eregion. Await me there. I shall return to you soon, having made great progress towards our end.

From you, there comes the anger and the grief of your parting, which he shares—but stronger than that is your faith in him, further solidified by his determination.

“Around your neck,” Galadriel says. “Is that the mark of your people’s king?”

She had noticed, then. He’d been careful to fiddle with it earlier, tucking it into his shirt when she thought he hadn’t seen her scrutinizing him. You had been right, of course—that pouch would prove useful, after all.

Thank you, my love, he thinks fondly to you. For reminding me who I am. Who we are.

Your devotion caresses his soul, and the Deceiver begins to worm his way into an unsuspecting mind once more.

Previous fic with same reader -> Remade

Next fic with same reader -> Reunion

[darin-nidk]

1 / (Takes place before Ch. 1) Interruption.

Bugambilia. | Lucifer &. Eve!Reader

Content: wounded Alastor, somewhat descriptive mentions of injuries, curse words, unhealthy business relationship.

Sorry! The signal is a bit static-y. Try again later, my lovelies.

"I thought our agreement had an explicit clause that we would not, in fact, cross paths, dear", Alastor spoke through gritted teeth, that ever forced smile present on his visage though it didn't fool (Y/N) or anyone with basic observation skills — his deer-ears were resting on top of his head, leaning back in a clearly annoyed and distrustful manner. After all, who would have a kind relationship with the one who owned their soul? No one in their right mind, for sure.

Perhaps, amicable at best but for such a prideful demon with that big title of Radio Demon, quite feared across the seven rings of Hell through rumours alone...

Nonetheless, Alastor had growled in a threatening (warning) manner as he studied (Y/N)'s movements, their closeness evidently unwelcomed. On the other hand, (Y/N) was unfaced as they were already used to his moodswings and little childish tantrums; kneeling before him and studying his bloody and vulnerable self on the ground, the animalistic growl that served as a warning was easily dismissed by them — however, they simply hummed in acknowledgement at his petty behavior.

Soon enough, (Y/N)'s hand was hovering over his bleeding torso, a faint glow coming from their palm and this caused the radio demon's eyes to widen, for a guttural growl to form in the back of his throat to express agony — an ever so sudden action from him as he leaned forward to take a bite of their shoulder, causing (Y/N) to yelp, curse under their breath and bite their lower lip until it bled from the pain that those sharp teeth of Alastor were causing.

(Y/N) kept ongoing with the treatment despite the pain they were currently experimenting, yet they shut their eyes tightly and took a deep breath before exhaling heavily. The reason (Y/N) had a large disposal of souls wasn't just because they kept their part of the deal, but because they were a good contractor and made sure (or try) to keep a majority of the souls they owned physically intact, in-shape and healthy. "I hope you haven't forgotten, you old-fashioned prick, that we are soulbound — I am the source of your powers, that's why you can't find a way out of our contract". The pain caused by his bite was overwhelming, (Y/N) was certain that his teeth had not only teared muscle tissue, but reached deeper to the bone. Their blood staining their clothing, an orange color soaking the fabric, their blood wasn't golden or yellow akin to angels nor red like humans or demons — an hybrid, an outcast. Part of them hoped Lilith bled the same color but she was perfect (they weren't) so she most likely bled a pretty golden.

Once all wounds had been healed (read: reversed to what it once was hence why it was a painful progress to undergo), Alastor quit bitting their shoulder and grabbed the torn cloth that (Y/N) offered to wipe his mouth, disgust clear on his face. His smile wasn't wide but it was eternally present albeit recluctantly. "Your blood is disgusting as ever, let me tell you", a jab at (Y/N)'s insecure self, but they didn't show it. He knew best. "And yes, thank you for the unnecessary reminder of regretful choices—".

"Alastor", a warning tone accompanied by a tearful glare, right hand gripping their bloody shoulder as they composed themselves as best as they could, holding back tears from the raw pain. (Y/N) couldn't heal themselves, so they'd bleed for now. A headache incoming, vision somewhat blurry yet they wouldn't die because of this (they never did). "I don't mind returning your soul as long as you don't mind losing everything that our deal gave you — your powers that were on pair to Adam's, powers that only failed you because you acted cocky. Your reputation, the souls you can hold hostage because I still allow you to—".

Static noise that played in the background had turned louder, unbearably so. The ringing in (Y/N)'s ears was overwhelming, causing the headache to worsen, it was as painful as a migraine now — fuck, shit, the corner of their vision had black edges. That fucker, his bite was worse than they anticipated. (Y/N) knees buckled, falling forward as they lost their balance thanks to the loss of blood and yet they never hit the ground, instead, Alastor acted quick and held them, carefully so despite the hatered he felt at being reminded of his inferior position in this deal with (Y/N) and the repulsive and unwanted physical contact. "You piece of... shit".

Losing consciousness from the bloodloss and the stress this situation was causing them, (Y/N) went limp and their full body weight was being supported by the radio demon's figure. "Mn, not quite, dear", Alastor replied in a mocking tone yet he couldn't have his benefactor and owner of his soul to die without losing a majority of what he worked for — sighing, a glance at his shadow, a wordless command and it disappeared before emerging again with the objects that Alastor had asked for. Once he had the alcohol, bandages, needle and thread at his disposal, Alastor removed his coat and placed (Y/N) atop, rolled his sleeves upwards and got to work, stitching up the most infuriating being for him.

Salutations! The Hazbin Hotel is being rebuilt, apologies for the delay.

If you like my stories, consider donating to my Ko-Fi! Even cents are plenty of help!

Y si hablas español, 'tonces no seas garca y dame $2 para honrar el billete que no esta en circulación y que ni siquiera es de colección a mi MP .

[insomnya777]

Hello! First I want to say I adore your boat boys super power AU so much, it’s currently rotating at light speed in my brain like a broken microwave. I think I’ve read at least six times all the way through with what you have, it’s fantastic!

I was also wondering if you had any other recs or personal favorites for boat boys fics, or just fics in general, I’m always looking for recommendations and wonderful authors usually also have great tastes in other fics as well! Thank you for what you do for the boat boy and smalletho community, you’re keeping us well fed lol

Oh my god I have many many recommendations!!!! I've actually been waiting for someone to ask me this LOL

Completed:

Settled is one of my favourites of all-time. If you read it you'll see the long ass comment I left on it lol. Description: A five plus one type of fic where Etho struggles to voice his feeling about double-life, and Joel is there to make it harder.

BIR Universe is a classic, a staple, even. One of the most iconic series of all time. Description: A very messy college universe with a bunch of hermitcraft/life series members.

Somehow, I always end up back in Marianas Trench is another personal favourite. I reread it way too often. The writing is incredible in this one + has a side of ranchers and impdubs. Description: AU where our three favourite soulbound couples go on a triple date! Except it's not a date, all of them broke up sometime before or during their last year of college and none of them are over each other.

Holy Father, judge my sins is so, so good. Anything by giddyfenix always is, I think I've read, like, all of their works. Description: Joel and Etho as the seven deadly sins. After all, what were they if not corrupted?

I Don't Smoke (Except for When I'm Missing You) made my heart break a million times over. I actually cannot read this fic without breaking down. It is a clockers-centered fic, exploring the Etho-Scar relationship, but I had to include it because it's just one of my favourite fics of all time. Description: A look into Etho's perspective on the life he and Scar share. They're not so different, you know? They both like to run away.

Works In Progress:

to all the ships at sea is another personal favourite, because the writing is just so, so good. There are currently six chapters out! Description: Etho has a job as part of the crew manning a lighthouse on a small island. With Cleo and Bdubs gone for a few weeks, Etho settles in to keep the Light running single-handedly. He wasn't expecting his life to be turned upside-down when a visitor turns up on the island, completely out of the blue...and he definitely wasn't expecting to develop feelings for the mysterious young man.

Good Luck, Babe is also very, very good. There are seven chapters out right now! Description: Etho couldn't get himself to turn Joel down. Even when Joel has made it clear time and time again that he had no problem doing the same to him. The lengths he was willing to go for a guy who would barely even let them be seen together in public...

hi, etho is super cute, too. I read it a while ago, and it's still one of my favourites, so do what you will with that. Description: About a month after going missing and having no memories to show for it, Etho gets a weird letter from a strange, anonymous sender who might have the answers to his questions.

And that's about it!! If anyone has more recommendations feel free to comment or leave in the tags because I'm always looking for more fics LOL <3

[redneonmoons]

Loose Shirts and Fumbled Secrets [Vash x Reader] [Soulmate AU]

Word Count: ~4000 Description: After a deadly mistake, you and Vash’s relationship becomes tense which makes it even harder to deal with the fact his name is written on your back.

Your pace increased as it took longer and longer to find Vash. Of course, when you took your eyes off him for a second he disappeared, probably getting in trouble again.

You just joined the group a week ago after finally tracking down the humanoid typhoon. Only a few months before then your soulmark appeared on the small of your back. Vash. A single name. You didn’t think Independents could have soulmates. Thankfully, Vash wasn’t hard to find with his wanted posters and wake of destruction everywhere he went. Which made you cautious when you went looking. And why you still haven’t told him your real name.

You saw red out the corner of your eye and stopped, looking down the alleyway. Meryl and Roberto were the furthest down against the back wall. In front was Vash and a bounty hunter, whose back was turned to you. Vash had his hands up, smiling nervously.

“I don’t want to fight,” He said.

“Then you should come along quiet-like,” the bounty hunter replied.

“No, thank you,” Vash declined.

You saw Roberto pull out his gun. The bounty hunter noticed and grabbed Vash, spinning him into a chokehold. Fear crawled down your back when you saw the bounty hunter put a knife to Vash’s throat.

Bang!

It took a second for you to realize what happened. Smoke slowly drifted up from your gun as the bounty hunter fell to the ground. Everyone was staring at you. You ignored them, just trying to breathe.

You didn’t even think for a second. You knew Vash could get out of situations like that. Probably done it several times before, But actually witnessing it was different. You couldn’t stand to see your soulbound get hurt. Not even a scratch. 

Once you’ve fully understood what occurred, you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. You covered your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from vomiting.

“Well, now this is an interesting sight,” Nicholas said, having finally found the group.

You removed your hand from your face and slowly turned to him, gun shaking. Roberto came up to your side and put a hand on your shoulder. He gave you a look of sympathy and slowly pushed your gun down. Something clicked and you immediately put it away. 

“We better hurry before people come,” Vash said, looking both ways out the alleyway.

“Agreed, let’s get out of here,” Meryl responded, following after Vash and Nicholas.

The crew quickly and quietly returned to the truck and rode off into the desert. It was already evening so Meryl started looking for a place to camp out for the night; far enough away so the town’s people don’t track them.

She found an abandoned house, only its metal skeleton remained. She parked next to it and everyone exited the vehicle. Vash got a fire started, while Meryl got the sleeping packs out. Roberto and Nicholas didn’t really do anything but watched the others and chatted. You, on the other hand, grabbed a rag and climbed on the flat roof of the building.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” Vash came up behind you sometime later as you were cleaning your pistol.

“I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. You could have been injured,” You reasoned, holstering the gun, “Or worse.”

“I don’t mind getting a little hurt. He still didn’t have to die,” Vash sat next to you.

You didn’t want to see his face, you knew he wasn’t happy with you, “I understand your morals. I didn’t enjoy taking his life, but I rather my friends be safe. And if that makes me selfish then so be it.”

“I would have gotten out of there. I just needed a few more minutes,” Vash said.

You glanced at Vash. you were unnerved that his usual cheery demeanor was gone.

“You didn’t have to get involved,” Vash continued.

You looked down. You know you could have done better. You know you could have just done nothing or shot the man’s arm or leg. Something. Anything other than what you have done.

But you were scared. You panicked when you saw that bounty hunter holding a knife to his neck. You didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t. The thought of Vash leaving you before you had the chance to tell him you’re his soulmate crushed you.

You hugged your legs and willed your unfallen tears away. You didn’t want to make Vash feel bad for making you cry. He was still watching, waiting for a reply.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I have my reasons.”

Vash softly sighed. You have never seen him this upset. You hoped this wasn’t permanent and that he’d go back to his happy, seemingly carefree attitude. But you knew you couldn’t lie to make him feel better. That wouldn’t be right.

You looked up as Vash got up. He smiled down at you, “Goodnight, Crux.”

“Goodnight,” you replied, “Vash.”

“‘I have my reasons?” Meryl walked up behind you, “That may be good enough for Vash but it isn’t for me.”

You didn’t turn around to face Meryl; did Vash tell her about their conversation or did she overhear, “that’s none of your business,” you quipped.

“It’s obvious he had it under control. He always gets out of things like that,” Meryl said.

“I know, I panicked, alright?” You really didn’t want another moral lecture.

You leaned down to pick up a rock from the sand.

“What’s that?” Meryl asked.

You realized your shirt rode up too high. You instantly straightened and went to pull it back down but Meryl already grabbed it and raised it up further to see.

“Is that your soulmark? Is Vash your soulmate?” Questions you didn’t want to hear came from the reporter.

Pushing your shirt back down and turning around, you clamped a hand over her mouth, “Hush! The guys are going to hear you!”

You took a step back, taking a peek at the truck behind Meryl. Roberto and Vash were engaged in conversation while Nicholas was looking over. You doubt he could hear you and Meryl but didn’t like the attention. It could bring trouble.

You turned back to Meryl and waited a second before lowering your hand; Meryl immediately started questioning you again, “You haven’t told Vash? Shouldn’t he know since your name is Crux?”

You didn’t answer any of her questions, not like she was giving you a chance to anyway.

“Your real name isn’t Crux then,” Meryl figured then clapped her hands together, “You should tell Vash.”

Your ‘No’ came out louder than intended. Everyone looked over. "Everything alright over there?" Vash yelled, a friendly smile still ever-present on his face.

"Yes, everything is fine, sorry!" You frantically replied back before going back to Meryl.

You grabbed her forearms and pleaded, “Don’t tell Vash okay? Please, I’ll tell him eventually.”

“Okay, fine!” Meryl said, “but you better tell him.”

A week passed before you knew it and you still haven’t told Vash, much to Meryl’s annoyance. Vash had gotten into some more scuffles and you did your best to make sure you didn’t kill again. There were some times you didn’t think Vash was going to get out but you were able to get him out, either by being more threatening to the aggressor or shooting them in the arm or leg. 

However, Vash was still upset about the original bounty hunter situation as much as he tried to hide it. Which only made you feel worse about it and lessened your odds of telling him you were his soulmate.

The crew was hunkered down around a campfire for the night. On your left was Roberto and Meryl, to your right sat Nicholas with his trusty cross, and lastly Vash sat across from you. Which you noticed happened to be the furthest away from you. It's been awkward silence for the last few days so you quickly finished your meal and went to sleep in your makeshift bedroll.

You felt yourself slowly start to fall asleep to the noise of the crackling fire and soft wind before you were brought back when you heard whispering.

“C’mon, you can’t be mad at them forever,” you heard Nicholas say, “You gotta give them a break.”

“Yeah, can’t you tell they feel really bad about it?” Meryl added.

“Where’s this coming from, guys?” Vash asked, trying to deflect with some nervous laughter.

“We all heard that argument a week ago. Did you seriously not see how freaked out they were when they killed the guy,” Nicholas said, not sugarcoating anything.

“Yeah, and they’re doing better now! No one has been killed since,” Meryl said.

“What they are trying to say is that they are over your little tantrum and you should get over it,” Roberto cut to the chase.

Vash didn’t reply immediately. You could imagine him looking down and thinking. You’ve been trying to keep your breathing normal so they didn’t know you were eavesdropping but you waited with bated breath for Vash’s answer.

“I guess you’re right,” Vash admitted, “I’ve been a bit hard on Crux, haven’t I?”

“Duh,” Nicholas replied, “It’s not their fault they want to protect your scrawny ass. Someone needs to do it.”

Vash lightly laughed, “I’ll apologize tomorrow.”

“How about now? You can stop pretending, Crux,” 

You flinched as Nicholas called you out and sat up before turning to everyone. Meryl and Nicholas were crowded around Vash on both sides. All eyes were on you. Nicholas and Roberto were obviously in the know about your eavesdropping while Meryl and Vash had shocked expressions on their faces.

“Morning,” you deadpanned, trying to lighten the tension.

Vash just scratched the back of his head, a nervous tick, and got up, walking over to you. You got up as well and followed Vash out into the desert. 

Once Vash walked to what he deemed appropriate, he turned to you. Even knowing he was going to apologize didn’t make this conversation any less nerve-wracking for you. You were very aware that you were avoiding eye contact. You’ve been trying to keep a low profile with Vash for so long it was hard being seen.

“Crux,” he said softly, coxing you to look at him.

You exhaled and finally made eye contact with him. It felt like he could see right through you. He stepped forward and lightly grabbed your arm, giving you the opportunity to move it away. When you didn’t, he held your hand

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been fair to you,” he squeezed your hand, “I see you haven’t killed since so I’m, again, sorry.”

“Thank you, Vash,” you said, looking down at your hand in Vash’s, “I’m sorry as well. For everything.”

Vash pulled you into a hug. You selfishly breathed into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him.

“We’re fine now,” Vash said cheerily, still holding you.

A few days passed and you were snoozing in the back of the truck.  The sound of someone slapping the window took you out of your afternoon nap. Squinting, you see Nicholas staring at you. You turned over and opened the door.

“What do you want?” You yawned.

“We should talk,” Nicholas looked at something on top of the truck and back to you, “Alone.”

Shaking your head, you begrudgingly stepped out of the truck. You turned to shut the door and looked up to be greeted by bright blue eyes. Vash was apparently also napping on top of the truck and now your faces were inches from each other. You felt your face heat up as you took a step back, not expecting the proximity.

“Where you guys going?” Vash asked.

“Oh,” Nicholas put his free arm around your shoulders, “I just need to talk with Crux for a bit.”

“Alright, you two have fun,” Vash smiled before going back to his nap.

Nicholas, still with the arm around your shoulders, took you out a ways from the truck, “So, Vash’s your soulmate.” You shook off his arm and turned to him, “I told Meryl—”

“Uh uh- You said not to tell Vash, not everyone else,” Nicholas corrected.

Your face heated up, “So everyone knows...”

“Everyone except the person who actually needs to know,” Nicholas said, “Reberto doesn’t care too much and Meryl is getting antsy about it.”

“You telling me to do something about it?” you asked.

“Duh. You two like each other so go for it,” Nicholas said.

“I— It’s just—,” you paused; you realized you didn’t quite know yourself. 

“Well, you haven’t killed anyone so it can’t be that. I mean you’re still a little over-protective even for me but ya know. You’re soulmates so it makes sense. I’m sure Vash would understand,” Nicholas said, adjusting the cross in this hand.

“He’s got enough to worry about,” you rambled.

“Don’t bullshit me. You’re afraid of rejection which is stupid cause you two are destined for each other for some reason.  Just get it done sooner rather than later,” with that, Nicholas walked off, leaving you to your thoughts.

Rationally, you know your chances were good, but there’s that irrational part. That stupid part that makes you think he won’t like you that way. That he still hasn’t forgiven you for killing that bounty hunter. That he won’t like how you’ve been lying to him this entire time.

That’s enough doubt for you to hesitate to tell him.

The crew was again crammed into the truck, going nowhere fast. Vash seemed in better spirits this morning. Meryl and Roberto were arguing about where the next charging station is. You were between Nicholas and Vash in the back. Crossing your arms, you made yourself as small as possible so they were comfortable. You very much weren’t but you were not going to complain. Nicholas was snoring, a cigarette threatening to fall from his lip. Vash was staring off, his expression of rare seriousness. For a brief moment, you wondered if he was thinking of the bounty hunter incident but quickly erased the thought.

Vash must have felt you staring cause he looked over and smiled at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. He then yawned, stretching out his arms —As much as he could, that is— raising them up and back. You felt his prosthetic arm rest on your shoulders.

You were about to question him when he pulled you against his side. If you weren’t tense before you were now. Your heart skipped a few beats as you felt Vash’s warm body against yours. He had no right to feel this comfy.

Vash lightly giggled, “You should relax. We still got a while to go.”

You hesitated but slowly forced your body to relax against Vash’s. You carefully rested your head against his shoulder, taking it slow in case Vash disapproved. He didn’t seem to mind as he rubbed your waist with his thumb. You felt as though you were melting as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

A bright flash behind your eyelids woke you up from your nap.

“Hey rookie, That’s work property, not a toy,” you heard Roberto say.

You opened your eyes, adjusting to the light and shifting slightly so you don’t wake the still sleeping Vash. You noticed the truck was parked in a small town. The town was built in a crack of a big plateau rock formation, making it have only one road through it with buildings against or drilled into the rock.

“Your assignment is on Vash and I got a picture of Vash,” Meryl reasoned, “Besides, it was too cute not to.”

You realized Meryl must have snuck a picture of you and Vash. you were about to make your opinion known but you suddenly felt Vash’s artificial thumb rub against your skin. You now became aware that —consciously or not— Vash had pushed up your shirt enough for his hand to hold your waist.

“You look comfortable,” Nicholas leaned over to you as the others exited the truck.

“Piss off,” You muttered.

Nicholas just laughed, sticking a new cig into his mouth and hopping out of the truck. He made sure to slam the door on his way out, shaking the vehicle. Vash breathed in and straightened, his eyes struggling to open. He must have noticed where his left hand was because he instantly removed it from your side and bought it behind his head. 

His cheeks tinted pink; he smiled, “Hi.”

“Hello,” you replied, leaning back on the seat instead of Vash.

You could feel the tension in the truck increasing as you and Vash gazed at each other.

“Do—”

“We—”

You both began to speak at the same time. Nervous chuckling filled the vehicle before Vash gestured for you to go.

You shook your head, “No, what were you going to say?”

“We should probably get out and stretch our legs,” Vash said.

"Agreed, let's,” when he didn’t immediately move, you started lightly pushing him, “Get out! Or I’m going to climb over you.”

Vash laughed as he struggled for a second to open the door and unceremoniously clambered out the truck, almost falling on his ass. You started laughing at him as you made your way out the vehicle before your legs gave out from the lack of use. Vash immediately stepped forward to grab you and you instinctively grabbed at his coat and put an arm around his neck.

You felt your face heat up at the close proximity but didn’t exactly separate. Mostly cause you now know you can’t trust your legs at the moment.

“Are you okay?” Vash asked, still holding on to you.

You nodded, “I will be as soon as I get some circulation back in my legs. Just don’t drop me.”

You slowly put your weight back onto your legs. Vash carefully moved from hugging you to holding onto your arms as support. By now you can feel the others watching but you were more concentrated on walking.

Once you were comfortable Vash let go of your arms. Nicholas rolled his eyes dramatically and the crew started to the nearby hotel. Meryl called dibs on getting the rooms for the night. Everyone followed her in, except for you and Vash. You opted to chill on the porch area since the weather was nice for once and Vash decided to head out to get some snacks. 

Several minutes passed as you relaxed outside the hotel before Nicholas opened the door, “Rooms are set.”

“Okay,” you replied, pushing yourself off the wall you were leaning on.

Opening the door, you went in to find Meryl. She was waiting in the main lobby and gave you a key and room number. It looked like she was trying hard not to smile. Suspicious…

You climbed up to the second floor and found your room. You tried inserting the key only for it to not go in all the way. You took it out and flipped it over, trying again. Only after inserting it both ways a few times did it finally click in. Turning the handle became another annoying task as you struggled to get the door open.

“Freakin’ shabby, good-for-nothing hotels,” you muttered, “I just want to shower.”

After what felt like several minutes —and it probably was— you got into your room. You didn’t bother to analyze the contents, your sole focus now was the shower. You entered the bathroom, dropped your bag, and hopped in the shower, sighing as you felt the sand leave your body.

You heard someone struggling to open the door as you changed into a spare set of clothes. Assuming it was Meryl, you finished up your routine before grabbing your bag and heading out of the bathroom.

When you stepped out into the room you froze. Sitting on the bed was Vash. His red coat was gone and he was eating donuts from a paper bag. You glanced around the sparingly furnished room before looking back at Vash on the bed. The only bed.

Oh…

You remembered Meryl’s expression when you got your key.

Oh no….

A strange sense of calm washed over you as Vash looked over, his mouth stuffed with donuts. You walked over to the door and unlocked it. You tried turning it once. Twice. Several times. Jammed.

“Meryl!” you yelled, banging on the door.

At this point, Vash had gotten up and stood behind you as you kept trying to open the door, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Crux, Vash,” Meryl’s voice came from the other side, “The receptionist said sometimes the door lock jams. They’ll get a locksmith out tomorrow.”

“Meryl,” You warned, not liking the slightly teasing tone of her voice.

“Anyway, I’m sure you two can figure things out,” Meryl continued, ignoring you, “Night!”

You heard her footsteps leave. You tried one last time to turn the handle before sighing and turning to Vash.

“Meryl said this was my room,” he said, sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

He doesn’t know it’s a setup.

“Ah well, nothing we can do about it now. Unless you want to try the window,” You walked up to said window.

It was so rusted and worn you didn’t even want to bother touching it, let alone escape through it. Accepting defeat you sat on the single chair in the room.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Vash offered you his last donut.

“No, I can’t let you do that, I’ll take the floor,” you replied, taking the donut.

“I insist—”

You raised your hand up, shutting up Vash as you ate the donut. you knew where this conversation was going and you frankly didn’t have the patience for the song and dance of it.

“Okay, this isn’t going to go anywhere. Either we both sleep on the bed,” you said, “or we both sleep on the floor. I know which option I prefer.”

Vash silently stared at you then the bed then the floor.

“No, Vash,” you got up from the chair, grabbing his bicep.

Vash let you drag him over to the bed. You let him go so he could take off his boots and crossed your arms as you watched him crawl into the bed. Once he was on the far left side you laid down yourself, keeping your back to him so he doesn’t feel awkward. Or maybe it was so you didn’t feel so awkward basically dragging a man into your bed.

“Night,” Vash said, shifting once more to get comfortable.

“Goodnight,” you replied.

It took you a while before you fell asleep.

You woke up thinking you felt something on your back. You must have moved to sleep on your stomach at some point in the night. You became more awake when you felt a hand lightly move across the small of your back. It dawned on you that your shirt must have rolled up while you were asleep. Your body moved before you had a chance to complete a thought and felt yourself begin to fall off the bed as you rolled off it.

You yelped as Vash immediately grabbed your arms and pulled you into his chest. You clenched your hands into his shirt and hid your face, trying to slow your breathing. His fast heartbeat wasn’t helping.

“Your name isn’t Crux, is it?” Vash said, his voice having a shake to it.

You moved back to look at Vash, his blue eyes more intense without the glasses. He adjusted, bringing up his prosthetic arm to take off the glove on his right hand. Pushing up his sleeve, he revealed your real name written on his forearm. You knew you shouldn’t be surprised but you never really did think about how your name would be written on Vash's body. Slowly, you lifted your hand to touch it.

“No, my real name is Y/N,” you replied, giving Vash confirmation.

“Y/N,” he said like an enormous weight was taken off his shoulders.

He smiled and again pulled you into a tight hug before planting several kisses on your face making you giggle. You grabbed his cheeks and pulled him into a full kiss. Vash brought up his hands and placed them over yours. It was a soft, sweet kiss that ended with you and Vash gazing into each other’s eyes.

Vash’s expression hardened a little as he started to ask you some questions, “How did you find me? And… why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re Vash the Stampede and you’re Vash the Stampede,” you chuckled, hoping he understood what you meant.

He just laughed, “Ah well… those wanted posters don’t paint the greatest picture I guess.”

“I don’t know. Your picture is awfully cute,” you teased, making his cheeks turn pink.

A comfortable silence washed over you both before you saw Vash's eyes twinkle as your words sunk in.

"You think I'm cute?" A smile grew on his face.

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed as you glanced away, face heating up, "Well- I- I mean…"

Vash just laughed, pulling you in for another hug. Maybe you weren't so mad that you were essentially locked in your hotel room. Vash made for an excellent cuddler you soon found out.

[m1rafaye]

"every bond matters, every sacrifice ripples through the lives of others, and no one’s story can be told without another. The battlefield is a stage where fate plays its hand, and champions rise together—or fall, alone." - Soulbound

So... this is why I wasn't posting for a while...

this is a theoretical 52 pick-up card deck for a college class of mine! inspired by the campaign I play: "Soulbound." it's based on Here to Slay and of course D&D

It took alot of effort, alot of time and stress and caffeine lmao. But i'm done! and I hope you like it just as much as me :) look at the descriptions!!! it's so cool!!

[achairwithapandaonit]

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

ATLA- Shame

DIGIMON- Ocean Call

ATLA- Soulbound

ATLA- ten years too late au

BLACK BUTLER- finny time loop fic

ATLA- walls rewrite

saw @aobawilliams doing this so thought i would too. i would include my one piece wips but i'm not really invested in witing them rn. also not tagging anyone but feel free to do this tag game

[captainschaos]

hello hello tis I the person who made the hermit relationships post and I would like to say yes you absolutely should make a post with your thoughts I wanna see 👀

EEEEE yknow what this is exactly the enabling I needed to finally make this post!!! primarily, I have a very queerplatonic, very aro, very difficult to label polycule that I loveeee to think about, and have a lot of headcanons surrounding them <3 I definitely have more reaching outside this group, but for the moment I just wanna talk about them!!

here's my veryvery rough hewn (and slightly outdated) map of it <3 but I'm gonna put detailed descriptions below the cut for anyone (particularly other aros) who might be interested in queer/platonic relationships that are very much not sibling-like, so step right up!!! I'd love to share <3

[I also have this fic that gets into some of the relationships below!]

overall qppolycule name btw: SHALESTEP >> (lizzie ld)shadow(lady) + zombie(cleo, rot related) + (etho)slab = some kind of dark, crumbling stone: SHALE >> tango(tek) + (joel) small(ishbeans) + (b)double(o100) = a little, repetitive part of dance: STEP

>> bdubs + cleo: queerplatonic marriage I mean just go watch third life. they're married <3 queerplatonically <3 yay!!

>> cleo + etho: queerplatonic partners they are a very subtle and slow kind of partnership, but consider each other partners, even if they aren't very vocal about it!

>> etho + bdubs: queerplatonic dating/partners ethubs will never be normal about each other yeah they're absolutely queerplatonic

>> joel + lizzie: married, joel is aro but the relationship is romantic I headcanon joel as aro, but lizzie allo, and think joel is very romance positive in terms of enjoying doing things that he knows lizzie likes, like giving kisses and dates and stuff ! even if he gets happiness from those through more of a giving satisfaction than anything romantic

>> lizzie + cleo: mutually crushing shadowrot pining is real, and I think they both vaguely know, but I kinda headcanon cleo as maybe greyromantic or lithromantic so I don't think they have any desire to go further than glancing at each other and blushing <3

>> joel + etho: queerplatonic behavior but no label the fucking freaks. I actually really think about their relationship in unique ways because I think dl soulbound would have given them both an ""excuse"" to be casually intimate with someone in a way they both struggle with walls around, and so they keep it up

>> etho + tango: unlabeled and weird about each other tangtho I will forever see as a pair of bros who will be going about their business, have an outrageously gay queerplatonic homoerotic moment, and then go back to acting like nothing happened while everyone else is ?????? and they will continue to happily never talk about it!!! ^_^

>> tango + cleo: platonic dating they're solidly, securely friends, but will go on dates, get each other gifts, hold hands, lots of dating type activities! and they've been jokingly called girlfriends enough times that they use the term in a platonic sense

>> lizzie + bdubs: casual romance my beloved rarepair shadubs. ily. I do headcanon bdubs as transfem so they're very much yuri YAYY but I just think they'd have a lot of fun with fluffy romantic feelings, and they have their own marriages so they feel no pressure to go deeper than that!! and they have fun kissing in the garden and having tea parties and pretty stuff <3

>> bdubs + tango: metamours they love to yell at each other and can't seem to get away from each other (just watch early trafficlife stuff these two in 3l/ll rule my fucking brain) but are tied together by mutual partnerships and actually understand each other incredibly well through it

>> joel + bdubs: metamours they're just too similar. like wayyyy too similar. they get in fights that seem like a mirror getting mad and have fun about ganging up on etho <3

>> lizzie + etho: metamours I just think they're niceeee and would do nice stuff togetherrr :] they have really interesting passing interactions canonically and I think when put in the same household, they'd get along really well

(the below are relationships in this grouping I hadn't really thought about in depth before, but this is a good opportunity to write a bit about em! they're all ofc technically metamours but I just think might not interact as much as those listed above)

>> lizzie + tango to be Quite honest I think this pairing is maybe the most dangerous out of any of them. something is going to explode and it's absolutely not going to be what they were trying to blow up it's probably the kitchen

>> tango + joel they Think they're the most dangerous pairing but they are cartoon characters. incredibly entertaining for the rest of the house tho <3

>> joel + cleo oh they'd have funnnn tbh I think they'd actually be reallyreally chill together, they'd probably do crafts in mutually happy silence (armor stands prolly)

[ocllo]

Tagged by @9haharharley1 and @overmooneleven

Thank you! ❤️

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Soulbounding/Wedding

ao3 posting script

Yule - Chapter 7

Yule - Chapter 8

Yule - Chapter 9

smut

Iraun

omegaverse

Fantasy AU/Hope

The Golden City

Yule - outline

Yule - Chapter 10

Yule - Chapter 11

Yule - Chapter 12

Summaries

unused/unsure

Beltane snippet 2

In Love

Beltane snippet

Yule - balcony scene <rev>

Tagging @raegefilth @goldenslumbersketchbook @albinaa4u @sirladysketch @fluegelschatten @cloudofdarkness only do it if you feel like it, no pressure! ^^

[liiacfleur]

Monster Designs - Bats

Sketched out design below the cut. They look very different from canon but that is because of some lore with alchemy that will be revealed later (and because I wanted Ozzy to be cute lol)

Descriptions written below since my writing is messy and I couldn't fit all I wanted to write on the drawing

Carrier Bats

Carrier bats are the smallest of the three types. They are primarily used like pigeons, acting as letter carriers. They mostly feed on mice and rodents, and are often kept as pets in replacement of cats. They also enjoy fruit and are often found circling fruit stalls waiting to steal the goods given the chance. Because of this, merchants have had to get creative to keep them from stealing their stock.

Carrier bats are also more closely related to Obitus and Dragon-Bats than Artillery Bats. Due to their alchemical creation, they are the beginning point for future evolution. Carrier bats are asexual and require specific magical intervention to reproduce. A colony will raise all the offspring, but if they show signs of evolutionary changes they are quickly abandoned with the Artillery Bats to prevent them from using the colony of Carrier Bats as a food source.

Like all other bats, they usually only possess fur around their neck and the joints to their legs and/or tail. The rest of their body is a leathery texture, at least for Carrier and Artillery. Both types of bats grow a coarse coat of fur over their body (sans wings, tail, and limbs) during the winter that sheds once winter turns to spring. This was an evolutionary adaptation they slowly gained during the war while they were further to the North near Mirkwood. Even after returning to the Highlands, they've maintained this adaptation to allow ease of flight over the sea to hunt during the cold months.

Unlike Artillery bats, Carrier bats only possess rear legs that are retractable into their bodies. They rarely use their legs unless perched, though Ozzy has an affinity for using them often because he likes to cling to Steve given the opportunity.

Artillery Bats

Artillery Bats are mainly used for defense and offense. They're often sent out to hunt demogorgons and wolves as a pack of five to twelve depending on the hunt. They range in sizes from the size of dogs to as large as horses. The larger ones are used as mounts by specialized soldiers, and often form soul contracts with their rider. If the rider dies, so does the bat. Once soulbound, they are unconditionally loyal to their riders and the riders blood bound family. When not bound, they operate through a colony system like the Carrier Bats and raise their young as a community.

Unlike Carrier bats or Dragon-Bats, Artillery bats possess four legs due to their evolutionary adaptations. They can walk on all fours, but prefer flight as their feet are made for grasping rather than walking.

During the war, they evolved to be strong enough to pluck men from the battlefield like a hawk to prey. Now they use the same technique to lift wolves/demogorgons into the air to drop them from extreme heights to kill them easier.

They are also often used to herd livestock, transport goods, and other menial duties. The ones that possess more of a prowess for violence are the ones chosen for soul binding, both to act as war creatures and to prevent the more ornery bats from accidentally hurting any citizens.

Dragon Bats

Dragon Bats possess many dragon characteristics and only select bat characteristics. They maintain a main of fur around their necks like the bats, but are unable to grow any other fur. Their snouts are very short and stubby compared to dragons. Like all bats, they can use echolocation at night, but have impeccable eyesight during the day.

Most of their body is made up of thick leather and scales, calling on their dragon heritage. Fully grown, they are nearly the same size as most average dragons, but it takes a decade for them to reach their full growth, and they do not grow their horns until their fifth year. Unlike their counterparts who are asexual, they have a binary sex system and enter sexual maturity after five years. Often, rather than a pair, they mate in groups of three - two males and a single female, effectively preventing male competition from destroying a clutch. Females are larger than males and often protect their nesting territories. If a female is introduced to a very young juvenile, she may imprint on them and take them as her own brood even if she hasn't reached sexual maturity. Females are fiercely protective of their young and mates. When her mates die, she will never take another.

There are stories of these creatures found in Moonstone, but little has been deciphered. They are a breed made from alchemy, and Obitus is likely the only remaining within her species.

for more information on Obitus, go here.

[wendelin-utt]

WIP Title Game

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

... @imtrashraccoon This is actually a very cool idea. Of course, the post they made you can find here. They found out about it through @/naturaldreamer (who you can find here) and I am gonna do it too.

Of course, I'll be including the fandom that these WIPs are a part of, as well as what type of medium I was planning on putting them in. Some might look very familiar to those that have seen my work before. And yes... I'll be listing EVERY SINGLE WIP (The title of the folder I have) I have in the works, be it in the pile of 'I'll get to it when I get to it' or currently working on it.

You can view it under the 'Keep Reading' section, of course.

Blooming from a Nightmare (UTMV) - Comic

Oceantale (UT AU) - Fanfic

Soulbound (UT AU) - Fanfic

Remake of Game (UTMV, was originally an Original) - Video Game

Bloom (UT AU) - Either Fanfic or Comic

Shinohana (UT AU) - Either Fanfic or Comic

Beloved Hope (Original?) - Fic

Bitty Interactive (UTMV, BittyBones AU) - Blog

Boop Comic (UTMV) - Comic (WE ALL KNOW WHAT THIS ONE SHOULD BE XD)

Colors in the World (Original) - Video Game

Cursed Sight (MC OCs) - Fanfic

Deck Card (Original) - Either Fanfic, Comic, or Video Game

Hearts of Dreams (Original) - Video Game

Objective Hope (Mashup between Beloved Hope and one of @mintycandycrumb projects) - Fanfic So, I forgot that Minty updated her OCs that are related to this project and raised a good point. Heh...

HERO of Rhythm (LoZ) - Either Video Game or Fanfic

Minerva (D&D) - D&D Campaign

Pixter (Original) - Video Game

Remake of Game, Electric Boogaloo (Original) - Video Game

Romeo and Cinderella (Original) - Fic

To the Other Side (Original) - Comic

Undertale Together (UT AU) - Either Fanfic or Comic

VG AU (YTMC/MC OCs) - Either Video Game or Fanfic

Those above are projects I actually know a basic premise behind and has a folder. Underneath, however... are just folders that I have in the folder for said projects that I have no clue what I was gonna do with them.

game project - All I know about this project is that it was gonna be DQB2 related, I think? All I know is that I have the colors for the character select in the only file in it that has anything of worth in it.

Of course, I should include the ones that I don't even have files on but still have information on. I might add more to this list later on because I might have forgotten about it. Most of these underneath have actual artwork I've made on paper.

Let's School X Undertale (UTMV AU) - Video Game

Moth (Sky:CotL) - Video Game

Floral Calligraphy (UTMV) - Fanfic

Splat! (UT AU) - Comic

Fell (UT AU) - Either Fanfic or Comic

Fake Apple (Original) - Video Game

Of Records and Skeletons (UTMV AU) - Fanfic

[lost-locket-antiques]

The Pixie Species and its Races

Pixies on Nijezdo are a strange people. They do not speak with sounds, but with scents, their language being aptly named Pheromona by Fae and Humans alike. As a result, very little is known about Pixie culture, habits, or even their life-cycle in general. However, what we do know is that unlike both Humans and Fae, Pixies are very androgynous. Having no mammary glands to speak of nor any sense of masculine or feminine features, it is quite difficult to differentiate between male Pixies and female Pixies. However it is still possible.

Addendum: Due to the impassible language barrier (Humans and Fae being physically unable to speak, or even comprehend, Pheromonan at this time) most of the "Nature" sections are nearly entirely speculative, and are to be taken with a grain of salt.

While Pixies are known to have the same cognitive functions as Humans and Fae, it is nearly impossible to prove consent for any kind of study. While most Pixologist have tried their best to make their subjects as comfortable as possible, the study of Pixies has been constantly questioned over the years if it is, indeed, ethical to study sentient creatures like this.

Terram, Pixies of Nature

Height Average: 20 cm (the women are minusculey smaller than the men)

Weight Average: 145 grams

Physical Description: The biggest and the broadest of the Pixies, Terram are based off of beetles. They are covered in hearty carapace surrounding most of their body. Most males have some sort of horn protruding from their head, whether it's on their nose, both their cheeks, or forehead, females do not.

Magical Affinity: Enchanted plant and animal growth: No one know entirely why, but the only way to properly cultivate anything with magical properties, whether it be a plant or animal, is nigh impossible without the help of a Terram Pixie. While Gnomes are the Cultivators of non-enchanted flora and fauna, Terram are the Cultivators of enchanted flora and fauna.

Nature: Studies find that Terram Pixies are quite territorial. Most only live in small communities of no more that 40 people. They live in large family houses that seem to be patriarchal in nature. Of course, like other soulbound (Human, Fae, and Pixie) people, they live in houses made of anything sturdy they can find that is close to them, as they live anywhere that plants and animals live.

While their culture is unknown, it has been seen in most larger Terram settlements that they have made as many technological strides as Humans/Fae have. Places of government, work, leisure, and worship have all been found in most, if not all of their territories.

Vita, Pixies of Life

Height Average: (male) 13 cm/(female) 11 cm

Weight Average: (male) 105 grams/(female) 98 grams

Physical Description: Tall, thin, and light, Vita Pixies are the most colorful of the bunch. Unlike their Terram and Mortem cousins, they are able to grow a hair like substance on their body, both sexes able to grow a head of hair, and males able to grow beards. Due to this, Vita Pixies are more sexually dimorphic compared to their cousins.

Magical Affinity: Life: Vita are attracted to living things that are either healthy, pregnant women/female animals, or that are just being born. It is speculated that they help with the birthing prosses, and give extra strength to those who are healthy. Though, the latter may just be a placebo,

Nature: Vita Pixies like to live along side Humans and Fae. They make their homes in gardens, attics, birdhouses, or any place that they can live near people without bothering them. Thankfully, most cultures on Nijezdo consider them good luck, so most people aren't bothered if a Vita decides that their garden is now also the Pixies garden. Though, there is still the problem of the Vita taking Human/Fae food without asking...

Vita tend to either live along or with a family of a married couple and their children. While they do seem to have territories of sorts, along with places of work, leisure, and worship, they do not seem to have any noticeable governing body. They seem to be the only Pixies to live this way...

Mortem, Pixies of Death

Height Average:(Fly) 8 cm/(Ant) 10 cm

Weight Average: 80 grams

Physical Description: The smallest, and least loved of all the Pixies, Mortems have nearly no sexual dimorphism. Other than females having slightly wider hips, and Ant Mortem males having wings, it is very difficult to tell males and females apart based of physiology alone (thankfully, like most cultures, they tend to have masculine and feminine clothing). They are also one of the only Pixies that can be born naturally without wings, though only the female Ant Mortems have this, all Fly Mortems have wings.

Magical Affinity: Death: Whether on you deathbed, have an injury, or are just ill, a Mortem Pixie is not far behind. While most had assumed originally Mortem were only there to impede the healing process (and as such may Pixies were murdered in the past because of this superstition), it has been discovered that they help keep infection and death away, rather that hinder. They seem to know when a person is just ill, or when a person is on death's door. As a result, they seem to give the dying person peace in their final moments.

Nature: Despite their skittish nature in front of Humans and Fae, Mortem tend to live in settlements of thousands or even millions. They prefer the safety of underground and live in very tightknit, seemingly rigid, communities. Sadly, due to the fact that people have demonized these people for centuries, they are the Pixies we know the least about culturally.

Solis, Pixies of Day

Height Average: (male) 12 cm/(female) 14 cm

Weight Average: (male) 120 grams/(female) 125 grams

Physical Description: Either very round, or very slim, Solis Pixies have the most attitude out of all their cousins. They are the only Pixies that always have some sort of fur on their body, mostly on their chest and legs. All of them have a stinger on the end of their abdomen, and thankfully, using it does not kill them.

Magical Affinity: Solar: they get stronger during the day, and weaker at night... we do not know why, nor do we know the purpose of such magic.

Nature: Like Mortem Pixies, Solis tend to live in large colonies, though instead of underground, they prefer the trees. It is not uncommon to see a large portion of a forest get taken over by a settlement of Solis Pixies. While they are not actively hostile to Humans or Fae... Don't walk into their territory if you are not actively friends with one of them... they may not die from stinging you, but you will.

Lunae, Pixies of Night

Height Average: (male) 11 cm/(female) 17 cm

Weight Average: (male) 123 grams /(female)134 grams

Physical Description: The only Pixie with 8 limbs and eyes, Lunae Pixies also don't have wings or antennae. They seem to be the only pixie race that has a major size difference between the sexes. With the males being at least 6 cm shorter on average. They all naturally grown hair from their scalp, and for males, grow beards.

Magical Affinity: Lunar: they get stronger during the night and weaker during the day. Like Solis Pixies, we do not know why the Lunae are like this either.

Nature: Lunae Pixies are quite solitary, usually only having a spouse and their children living with them at the most. Lunae seem to prefer being alone outside of that. They make their homes out of the silk that comes from their bodies, and tend to be entirely carnivorous, instead of omnivorous like their cousins.

While less overtly territorial than Solis Pixies, they still do not like it when Humans, Fae, or other Pixies invade their space, and have quite the venomous bite.

[dramioneasks]

Hi I'm looking for a fic where draco can't die because ha has a soulbond. The ministery try to kill with dementors but he cames back to life every time. They want to know why then and hermione in the one who investigates it. She falls in love with him but then she is devastated because he has a soulbound. She is his souldbound but they don't know it. I think the fic wasn't complete because I don't remember reading more .

I feel like I’ve read this!

Anyone?

Edit:

Thanks!

wanderingwonderuniverse: Heyjude19 has a oneshot that’s pretty much this description from ‘ceremonials’ which is AU from their Remain Nameless story. It’s the chapter 2 https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432991/chapters/73432110

[sunflower-rat]

Double Life AU (Astera)

TW : Descriptions of death and drowning

‎ㅤ

Cleo is sat in an office, her fingers drumming against the table - because it's too quiet and the way the person in front of her Is writing too slow.

She's long since stopped needing to breathe - but her chest rises and falls anyway.

"You can stop staring at me like that." She glances towards the second archivist in the room who immediately tenses up. "I'm not going to eat anyone. Much less some scrawny little kid like you."

She tolls her eyes and goes back to tapping on the table.

"Everything seems to be in order." The older of the two speaks up. "We just need a general account of your background."

"You already have it." Cleo frowns. "I've given accounts to not one - but four different people. I was told this process would take a day - and it's been a week."

"This will be the last time." They assure. "I promise."

"It better."

Disgruntled, she leans back against her seat as they pick up the pens and ready it against the paper.

‎ㅤ

When she had three lives - she was human.

She was a guard and stubborn and fierce as her mothers were. She went out and hunted on weekends with her sisters and other days she arrested thieves and low lives that dared to threaten her community.

Her rune sat beautifully against her chest - spiralling directly from the middle of her neck in beautiful twisting vines and flowers - it's thorns carefully guarding the runic heart at it's center.

She doesn't remember how it happened.

She hadn't died at all.

All she remembers is walking among the other guards - and suddenly being overwhelmed by a startling pain that felt like her legs had shattered.

She didn't die in battle.

‎ㅤ

When she had two lives, she became obsessed with knowledge.

Adjusting to a rudimentary wheelchair, and keeping her resentment quiet in her chest - she studied runes and curses. She learned about magic and the species that made up her town - and she studied the soul bounds because they governed their world so strongly but so little was known about them. She studied about death and the undead - and how to preserve so many different things.

She studied a flower - vibrant and red, and how its roots burrowed into the ground and bloomed when it was exposed to the moon.

Sometimes she stared at her reflection in the mirror, and wondered if her soulbound knew what they had done.

If they could feel the hate - and the loathing in her heart.

They must have.

She just supposed they just didn't care.

Because she drowned in her own bed, gasping for air she never lost.

ㅤ

When she had one life, she fell in love.

They were researchers that had crossed by chance - an archeologist who studied the forgotten Gods - and gifted Cleo many ornaments and findings from their travels.

Of course, the wheelchair helped keep her patient, but - she was sure if she could walk, she would have drowned them in kisses and slipped their rings on their fingers far before the pastor could've even said a single word.

She wore a totem on her wrist and cherished it like she would the moon.

They were married on a beautiful sunset - and Cleo would never admit it, but it took everything to stop herself from running across the aisle and lifting her lover into her arms and kissing them - because she was so afraid that she'd suddenly lose herself.

Her last life was perfect.

ㅤ

Almost.

Because sometimes-

Sometimes, she would sit awake at night.

She would sit there while her spouse slept - and stare quietly at the apple in her hands - golden and shimmering.

The apple of Eden, or whatever else the religious texts had declared it to be.

Myth stated that it could break the bond between soulmates.

It would separate her and the person who broke her legs and drowned her in her sleep.

The one that made her wake up in the middle of the night, screaming because she could feel something burning her skin.

It would kill the heart that the thorns so lovingly protected with her own flesh and blood.

ㅤ

Because late nights laid awake - clinging onto her spouse, her jaws bared as invisible flames scaled her arms and tattoo'd her flesh with burns she could not see. She looked at her body and saw all the things it could've been - if her so called soulmate hadn't been so careless.

"But why would anyone want that ?"

And Cleo had so many reasons that it filled her mouth like poison.

Not once- but twice, her life had been taken away by something she had no hand to control.

Twice, she had died - unable to do a single thing to stop it.

And she hated it.

Because one day - her spouse would watch her die, because it was her soulmate that was dying instead, and she could hold onto her spouse as tightly as she could - but she'll die anyway.

ㅤ

So one night, she had raised the apple to her lips.

"Because I loved them." She had stopped tapping against the table, remembering the way her spouse had looked at her. "And I didn't want anyone to take me away. I didn't want anyone deciding when I got to die."

And thought about how it'd feel to be free from that fear.

Why would anyone want to be without a soulmate ?

The silence in the room was cold, but she didn't really care.

"And did you ?" They asked. "Did you take it ?"

She held her spouses hand in her own, her teeth grazing against the skin of the apple-

Cleo buried it in her garden and held her partner so tightly against her chest - and stayed up the entire night thinking.

Just... thinking.

"Sometimes I wish I did."

ㅤ

When she had ▊ lives, she had lost everything.

She woke up in a coffin and clawed the ceiling until the wood broke open and drowned her in loosened dirt and mud.

She gasped for air she didn't need and raked her fingers through dead orange hair and accidentally pulled out the vibrant red flowers that now thrived within it like a field.

They bloomed in moonlight and her skin burned in the day, and she sewed her limbs back onto her body when they fell, and refused to look at the rune on her chest - now a distorted shade of green, yellow, red.

But she could walk again.

So she walked, and walked - but never found her home.

She never found her spouse.

ㅤ

"Satisfied ?"

Cleo crossed her arms, staring impatiently at the two before her. "I've recounted my entire history - I've proven I'm not a threat. Now can you let me into the damn city ?"

The two officials looked at each other, hesitant - and eventually approved her request.

She got all her things - a satchel of nothing but some small trinkets and things she could find - and a golden apple buried in between.

[simonlorden]

WIP game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips

If you see this, consider yourself tagged. I have several dozen WIPs (several several dozen if I count the older Genshin ones) so I’m definitely not tagging that many people and also not posting ALL. xD

These are all my October Daye WIPs. Maybe.

a candle at my chest, a head on his knee

amnesiac simon

bellajune

but i’ll still be here in the morning

café au lait

chelsea & etienne

[redacted]

copper and cedar

Copy of Ao3 Posting Script

countessverse / 14 years

daemyra au

dream simon & toby

falling

first date

foxfire

here we go again

hotel not-carmichael

june/august/raysel

june/raysel spinoff

[redacted]

Luidaeg & Gillian

November Nighte and the Marquise’s Death (Kingdom of Smoke #1)

oleander/toby

blood memories

anti-revenge

follow-up

soulbound threesome

ironsick

dungeon rescue

poison wine

s & t timetravel

simon & june

simon & lia

Simon Fetch

Simon raises Toby

simonaugust

siren song

teen toby

thy eternal summer

tiny toby

trans gillian

[kaijusrpgbrainstorm]

New Year, New Character 2: Week 4

Age of Sigmar: Soulbound

The High Fantasy, highly weird, high action successor to Warhammer Fantasy Battle Warhammer: Age of Sigmar got an rpg from Cubicle 7 a couple of years back. In Age of Sigmar: Soulbound, you play mortal champions brought together to defend the realms against the kind of threats that armies and gods aren't suited to dealing with.

Also, you get to punch the Grimdark in the face.

Seriously. The game has mechanics for the PCs actually trying to go out and help make life better for people between quests. It's not a huge focus, but I think it's great that this sort of thing is included.

Anyway, one of the interest things about Soulbound is that many of the playable options would be adversaries in other settings; here they're protagonists because they are brought together in mutual interest against mutual foes. So it would be very easy to make a Suicide Squad-esque team. This isn't quite that, because I don't have some of the supplements (why oh why did I not pick up Champions of Death already) but its definitely not your usual line up of shining heroes.

Quick note: Skills in Soulbound have separate ranks in Training (add dice to the pool, noted a T) and Focus (improves results after a roll, noted with an F)

“Priest Gage, welcome.” “Lord Arcanum, this about the Soul Binding plan?” “It is. We have assembled a list of potential candidates. These are the most promising.” Adria takes a scroll from the Stormcast's hands, reading the descriptions. “A murder aelf too murdery for the murder aelves?” “An angry tree spirit?” “A death mage?” “Aelf with a gun?” “Emotion draining mage?” “And,” the towering semi-divine figure adds, “while not a candidate for Binding, one of the Seraphon warriors is rather insistent he be part of the mission.” “This is my team?” “I will admit, it is quite an eclectic group.” “What you mean,” Adria says, “is that they're a bunch of ars-”

[calenlily]

Ask game from the lovely @anamazingangie (hugs and solidarity, girl, I’m also in the working a little on a lot and feeling like I’m not making much progress camp 💕)

Feel free to send me a title your curious about and I'll respond with an excerpt. I’m also going to tag some folks in case they would like to do the same!

The only “rule” is to post the names of every doc you’ve worked on in the last...week, I guess? Tagging people and including word counts is optional. Feel free to reblog this post or make a new one.

All of these are House of the Dragon and more or less Daemyra focused, because I remain in hyperfixation mode. Titles are my document titles since that seems to be the name of the game, some of which are very much shitty working titles

Dragon Girls - Rhaenyra and her evolving relationship with Baela and Rhaena during the first years on Dragonstone

hold the light given unto you - set in my early Daemyra marriage AU, 4 years into Rhaenyra’s reign, she decides she wants another baby (first chapter posted as a oneshot on AO3, now working on a self-indulgent breeding kink smut continuation)

desire is hunger is the fire i breathe - set in my Sex Lessons AU, first time blowjob ficlet

Ruined - set in my Sex Lessons AU but it’s all farce and no smut, revolves around Daemon being a drunken ass

Discovery - set in my Sex Lessons AU, probably the earliest scene after the start of Daemyra’s secret relationship, so far mostly just isolated thoughts and descriptions that I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing with yet

Soulbound - AU where Daemyra develop soulmarks when Rhaenyra first flowers, and no one is happy about it (first chapter up on AO3 under the title Twin Flame Bruise (Blossom and Bind), now working on chapter 2)

Celebration - set in my Sex Lessons AU, word of Daemon’s annulment comes from the Vale and Rhaenyra sneaks herself into his bed to celebrate

Cloudbreak - set in the timeskip between episodes 7 and 8, Rhaenyra takes newborn Aegon III for his first dragonride and Daemon worries about her pushing herself too much too fast

Mountains of the Moon - set in my early Daemyra marriage AU, several years into Rhaenyra’s reign, Rhaenyra deals with the succession crisis in the Vale following Lady Jeyne Arryn’s death, the most difficult part of which is convincing Daemon to stay out of it

Blood Roses - AU diverging from episode 4 but with fairytale elements: Rhaenyra is under a Sleeping Beauty curse, Daemon is forbidden to try to rescue her but that’s not going to stop him, and there might be more to the story than appears at first glance (first chapter up on AO3, now working on the second and final chapter)

Battlefields - Rhaenyra in childhood convinces Daemon to teach her to wield a sword, and after the hunt in episode 3, tired of not being taken seriously as heir, decides to prove herself by flying off to join the war in the Stepstones, my biggest current WIP

Tagging: @luthien-under-bough @whimsicalmeerkat @girlwithakiwi @mrpinniped @mswhich