#joel was a sculptor

[iicarussea]

hello i am here for the hamlet. 1. do uou have a tag for that 2. is pix the guy who never leaves his house?

this just reminded me i havent thought abt the au in a while but yeah !! the tag is #emperor's hamlet au

and pix actually runs an antiques shop! he travels around and looks for old stuff to fix and resells it. technically he's the reason xornoth happens in the au, but its fwhip and sausage's fault that hes out in the first place (basically scott donated a bunch of stuff he had in storage to pix, then pix sold it to fwhip not knowing what it was)

scott is actually the guy who never leaves his house, since his brother went missing he didnt really go out much, so gem checks on him and brings him groceries n stuff bc theyre pretty close neighbors & friends

(sorry if none of this made sense this au is purely thoughts that float around in my head sometimes)

[artparks-sculpture]

A sculpture titled 'Flight of Air (Bronze Flying Lifelike Sand Martins sculptures)' by sculptor JOEL Walker. In a medium of Bronze and in an edition of /75.

[dredgesnails]

stardew valley au where joel and skizz are new residents to pelican town (hermit town?). joel just inherited a large farm from his late grandfather and skizz is moving in with his old friend after reconnecting with him and wanting a fresh start. and the townspeople are like, kinda weird.

bdubs is fine enough - he’s a sweet man with a fun personality and he’s the local builder, but it’s almost frightening how fast he constructs new buildings when joel needs them. pearl, their resident postmaster, is also pretty normal other than the fact that skizz never seems to be awake early enough to catch her delivering mail. scar is lovely but he’s never available when joel wants another chicken. the mayor, xisuma, is pleasant too, if a little eccentric at times, but he doesn’t really seem to do much in town.

for the most part, skizz is settling in well. he’s moved in with impulse, who runs the local blacksmith in town, and he gets along well with most of the local townspeople. he’s started spending his evenings at the local saloon listening to ren regale the patrons with fantastical tales while he and stress serve up food and drinks, and he finds himself growing close with cleo, the local sculptor. he even gets a new wardrobe from hypno free of charge, and sometimes helps cub out with his totally scientific studies and creations.

skizz also joins forces with beef (who helps to supply the local general store that xb and keralis run) in terrorising the local manager of the corporate chain grocery store that no one likes. doc is a terrible manager but would make a fun supervillain (according to joe hills, the bookseller who appears once in a blue moon but seems to know doc more than anyone in town).

joel, on the other hand, seems to only be interacting with the strangest residents in town. he discovers the adventurer’s guild after only a couple weeks. false promises to give him prizes if he can kill enough monsters, which is not something joel had expected to be doing when he pictured farm life, but here he is. he stumbles upon a travelling cart one day, and the man inside insists he’s a knight from a faraway land, that he risked his life to make it all the way here to sell his wares. it’s all stuff joel can get cheaper elsewhere.

he’s pretty sure the local doctor has no real medical training, but then he passes out while fighting monsters and he wakes up completely fine, so zedaph probably knows what he’s doing. maybe. when joel isn’t passing out he sometimes makes trips to the library-slash-museum, which is probably almost completely empty because mumbo, who begs joel for anything to display, looks like he’s never fought a duggie in his life. eventually mumbo gives joel a key to the sewers, which are way cooler than they have any right to be, and that’s where he finds jevin’s secret sewer shop. jevin lives in town. he just also has a shop hidden underground. joel has stopped asking questions by now.

and then there are the three who live by the beach. etho spends most of his time tinkering around the fishing hut or hovering around bdubs, but sometimes he drives the bus to the desert. only sometimes. there might be something under his mask. no one knows for sure. gem runs the fish shop most days and she claims she’s a sailor, but joel has never seen a single working boat around despite all the ocean. she can also hold her breath underwater for an uncannily long amount of time, like, scarily so, and will sometimes disappear for a few days and return with an abundance of treasures. joel has never seen her leave by boat. grian fishes a lot and runs the shop when gem can’t, and he sometimes talks as though the sea can speak to him. skizz has caught him staring into space for extended periods of time. one time he waded into the water and just stood there, head down, muttering to himself.

apparently there used to be a lighthouse but “it’s gone now”. gem says if they ask bdubs nicely enough maybe they can build another one, but she and grian are banned from build requests after the last incident with their pet snails (joel has never seen the snails, but scar complains about them enough to convince him they’re real).

there also might be some kind of wizard who lives in the creepy tower in the woods. skizz has heard he’s the one who helps maintain the power in the valley, and joel’s convinced he hallucinated seeing him once until he recieves a letter from the wizard himself, and visits him only to find that the strange fire-creature he saw that one time was, in fact, tango, who is human for the most part, he just sets himself on fire sometimes.

[silverskye13]

It's been awhile since Joel has been on a desolate server. That's by design. He goes a little mad, you know. Well, he goes a little mad anyway, but there's something about that old scavenger Lonely that creeps him out, alright? It circles him like a buzzard, always in the corner of his eye. Drives him places. Gotta keep moving or it'll bite you. Gotta keep moving.

He gets back to building. It's quiet. It reminds him of the end of the world.

Joel shakes his head. He scowls at his shaking hands. He looks around. He can see the water, a river full of life running to a distant sea. There's no cloud of black and red on the horizon, there's not even a bloomin Jimmy or Fwhip around.

"Jimmy was here," Lonely croaks like a rook on a tombstone. "Recently."

"Shut up." Joel says to himself, because Lonely isn't here, isn't real, it's never real. All in his head, isn't it? An empire of him.

Gotta keep building. That's what he's good at, building. The compulsion of hand and hue and height. He builds a shop. No one stops him. He leaves a note for its neighbor because she's not there. No one is here. Just himself.

"It is so much like the End," Lonely tells him, and it's voice is the melody of a vacant goddess. "Do you think they'll recognize you when they come back?"

"Shut up."

"You're the only one talking, Joel." Lonely laughs like dying fish on a bone-dry seabed. "Obsessed with me, are you?"

Joel gets back to building. Building was always easy, all compulsion and thoughtless movement. Making life with his hands. Sculpting.

"I'm not a sculptor here," he whispers to himself as his hands reach for clay. It yields to his touch, grabs him back with greedy hands like the mud that devoured the sea goddess's castle.

"You always made me such beautiful things," Lonely croons, and he can feel it like a crown on his head, like a cloak on his shoulders. "I didn't remember a single one of them, did I?"

Joel is standing in front of a statue he's sculpted. His hands are heavy, and he's been crying. He looks up at a goddess, whose vacant stare can't see him, but it is the harmless vacant of creation, and not the terrible vacant of a love lost forever.

"I've missed you Joel," Lonely whispers, with the voice of his goddess, in a world that ended far away. "Why did you stop visiting me? You didn't abandon me, did you, love?"

Joel closes his eyes, and grits his teeth. "I can't forget you."

Joel flies away, like he could outrun that circling scavenger. Though still he sees it out of the corner of his eye.

He needs to find something to build.

[quinntell]

Binge watching Joel’s pov for hermitcraft 10 finally and holy shit I am definitely a smalletho shipper now (personas not people!!!)

The whole etho statue thing was absolutely hilarious and definitely ship worthy and then when etho made the Joel statue in ep 13 I just. I can’t help but imagine a like au or something with etho being a sculptor and making Joel out of marble or clay.

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .1

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Summary: What do you do when you meet a woman, have a child, get married, and then find the love of your life?

-OR- 

A Joel infidelity AU

Content Warnings: Discussions of alcoholism and parent death.

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Hi, everyone. Welcome to the new story. 

Disclaimer to begin with. Joel is married in this, but it is, and always has been, a marriage of convenience. There has never been any sort of emotional or physical intimacy between him and his wife apart from when Sarah was conceived. 

Like always, I promise there will be a happy ending, and that there will be lots of other fun :) stuff to make up for the occasional tears. 

I appreciate you all so much. Happy (lol I guess) reading. xx 

Art is The pain that keeps on giving, Noelia Towers, (2018-2019). Title of the story comes from this film.

Word Count: 6.8K

Read on AO3

.1

Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant.

Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking 

The first time you’d fucked, it was like you’d never been touched by a man before. The first time he’d looked at you, like you’d never been seen, in the entirety of your existence, prior to that moment. Every other time after that, every touch, every look, was the same – a rebirth of sorts. And a devastation. Something not to be understood or conceptualized, only experienced. 

Taking that into account, it’s no surprise that things unfolded as they did – ended as they did. 

-

“Please, please, come with us,” Gerri drags the vowels out and hits you with the puppy dog eyes. You shake your head at her, smiling, packing up your supplies from tonight’s lesson. “It’s going to be so fun, I promise. Tommy’s sister-in-law hates my guts, I know, what-fucking-ever, but my sister and her girlfriend will be there, and my best friend’s planning on coming too. And there’s an extra bedroom, it’ll be perfect, I swear.”

“Yeah, I remember the sister-in-law from Easter.” Of course you remember her from that day. Gerri had invited you to their family barbecue, and the woman had pitched a fit that Tommy’s girlfriend, somehow posed as an insult, had dared invite someone without asking her permission first. It was also the first time you’d met him. And he was, by far and large, the reason you’d stayed away and evaded all subsequent invitations since then. Even if his wife had unapologetically said to your face that she found it crazy that people still party crashed, no matter that that hadn’t been what you’d meant to do, hadn’t known you were party crashing. She’d also thrown away the bunny cake you’d stayed up the entire night before making. No gluten in the house or something, even though the hamburger and hot dog buns had all been regular. 

“Oh my fucking God, Easter. Don’t even remind me. I know, I know.” She gives you a pointed look and you huff a laugh at her. “But that was months ago. Her and Joel were on the outs then, or… had just gotten back together… I can’t ever keep up. And well… they’re still on the outs now–” She scrunches up her face into the cutest little frown. You love Gerri so much. From the first moment she’d shown up for your Tuesday night ceramics class at the community college, she’d immediately decided that not only were you going to propel her into the upper echelons of the great sculptors of the world, the greater Austin area – her words, not yours, but she’d also immediately decided that you were going to be friends, and no, you did not have a choice in the matter. 

“But they’re always on the outs. And things haven’t been as bad recently – according to Tommy. But honestly the fuck does he know about all that anyways. My poor baby is so clueless – but still, please, please please,” she begs, pouts your name over and over again. “Please, come with us?” She brings her clasped hands up under her chin in a pleading gesture, hits you with the puppy dog eyes again. 

You were so grateful for her. Despite your recalcitrance, it’d always been hard for you to make friends. A byproduct of who your mother was, being an only child, a largely solitary upbringing, et cetera, et cetera. You’d needed Gerri’s tenacious spark and kindness to pull you out of your shell. She wanted you to join her, her boyfriend Tommy, and their friends and family at a house they’d rented on Lake Austin for the weekend as a sort of end of summer farewell. And you did – you wanted to go, bunny cake murdering sister-in-law and all, but there was the issue of him.

You were… there was not a single phrase for what it was your mind turned into when that man and his name and his face invaded your psyche. So you’d done your best to avoid him in your mind and in real life, at all costs. He was – he was not something you were capable of considering. 

“I’m not sure if I can, Ger–” you say slowly, wracking your brain for an excuse. “There was– one of the other teachers at the elementary school–” Your day job, when you weren’t teaching night class ceramics, was as an elementary school art teacher, “Asked if I’d cover for them on Friday – summer school.” Stupid excuse, you roll your eyes at yourself. 

“Oh, shut up. The summer camp classes end early – you told me that last time! You could drive up after.” She sidles up to you now, rests her curly haired head on your shoulder. “Please, you’ve said no to everything I’ve invited you to since Easter. You aren’t avoiding me because of the shitshow that was, are you?” 

“No, of course not.” Yes, yes you were. Just not for the reason she thought. “I would just hate to impose–”

“You wouldn’t! I swear you wouldn’t be!”

“You all already have your plan, and I–”

“No! No. My sister’s the one renting the house, and she said I could invite whoever I wanted. So, no one can say anything,” she sticks her tongue out, rolling her eyes. “And Joel said I should invite you too. I’m pretty sure he still feels badly about last time also.” Fucking hell, you did not want him feeling bad for you. At all. Ever. You did not want him ever thinking about you ever, ever, ever. 

-

You stand over the kitchen trash bin, staring at your destroyed cake. Your grandmother used to make it every Easter. Four separate cake loaves all cut into the shapes for a face, two big pointy ears, and a cute little bow tie, with a pineapple filling, and all covered in little flakes of coconut and your homemade vanilla frosting. You used jelly beans to make the eyes and nose and dark frosting out of a piping bag for the whiskers and mouth. It was your favorite cake, one of your favorite memories, one of the only good ones. 

“Fucking Christ, she did not throw it away. Please, don’t tell me that’s the cake you brought.” Large hand gently placed between the wings of your shoulder blades to peer around you, not touching, but still there, still very close, and yes, that’s it, you’ve gotta get the fuck out of there now, away from this man.

“Oh, no. It’s okay – I– I mean– I should’ve asked before. I didn’t know you all were gluten free. I should’ve asked…”

“What? Glu–” he frowns. You knew his wife, Eva, had made that up. You step away from him, from his large warm palm that feels like it’s burning through your clothes and skin. He was really, really and truly the most unfairly gorgeous man you’d ever seen. He fucking terrified you. “Oh, yeah. The gluten.” He went along with the lie, passing the offending palm over his mouth, the wiry scruff of his beard rasping softly against what you imagined to be work roughened skin. He’d said he was a contractor. 

Gerri had invited you to her boyfriend's brother’s house for the Easter holiday. It was the first invitation to something you’d gotten since you’d moved to Austin six months ago, and you’d been so, so happy that she’d asked, had felt so sad you’d not have anyone to share your cake with. You’d planned to take it to work with you to leave in the teacher’s lounge for everyone to share. The thought had made the back of your eyes pinch, for some reason. 

“It’s alright. I actually need to head out. Could you let Gerri know? I– I’m–” you couldn’t think of a lie, and he was staring at you like he knew you had no real excuse – like he knew you were uncomfortable and out of place and were just looking for an excuse to leave. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks. 

“Don’t go, please. Stay for a while longer. I’m – fuck– I apologize about the cake–”

“No, no– really it’s–” you held out a staying hand, but he’d cut off your false appeasement.

“Please, stay.” He’d taken a step forward, closer to your retreating form, and you’d felt almost faint, dizzy at the image of him stepping closer to you. He was so tall, huge really, broad chest, thick arms, dark, lush curls and a scruffy jaw, a peek of chest hair covering the tantalizing golden skin at the opened button of his shirt. Sexy, deep Southern twang. The loveliest, warmest eyes you think you’d ever probably seen. You were going to try and mix the exact color of them when you got home, even though you knew you shouldn’t. You hadn’t been interested in a man in months, maybe longer, couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a crush, an anything on anyone, and now this man. Suddenly, blindingly, out of fucking nowhere – so damn attractive. Your eyes had fluttered shut for a second and you’d swallowed, trying to regain your balance – you’d known him for all of two hours and he already made you feel unbalanced. You needed to leave.

“Really, Joel,” his name on your tongue almost had a taste, “It’s okay.”

-

“He– He did?” you stutter. “He shouldn’t feel bad – he has nothing to feel bad about, it was nothing.” Lie – lie, lie, lie. Meeting him that day had been – it had been everything. You’d thought about it, him, for months afterwards. The sight of him with his three year old daughter, Sarah, the sweetest little thing you’d ever seen. Helping her hunt for the Easter eggs he’d hidden around their backyard, letting her crack the bright confetti filled shells over his head. His excitement for her when she’d finally found the basket he’d made up for her. He was a good father. 

“Yeah, and Tommy said he’d like to see you again too. And I told my sister about you, and she thinks all my pottery’s fucking amazing, by the way, and she wants to meet you too, and she’s even thinking of enrolling in the class next semester so really, really you’re obligated to come.” Fucking menace – she smiles sweetly. 

“Oh, fine. Fine, fine. I’ll come.” You’re putting away the last of your tools. “I’ll drive up Friday afternoon when I’m done at the school.” 

Immediate hopping squeals, and this is why you love her. She’s so happy, so open and silly, friendly and funny. All the things opposite to your restrained quiet, shy to the point of aggravation, sometimes. You didn’t want your constant refusals to alienate her. You could see him again, it would be fine. You’d met him once for Christ’s sake. It meant nothing. It had probably been nothing that day, heat exhaustion or a stomach ache or something. Nothing to fawn and stress over. You’d just be polite, cordial, keep your distance – especially from his wife. You did not, did not want to provoke her greater dislike. You’d keep your unwanted baking to yourself this time. It would all be fine. You wanted these people to like you, if you were being honest. A little desperately. Gerri and Tommy, her sister you hadn’t yet met – you wanted to be part of their group, one of their friends. They were all so kind, welcoming and fun, you couldn’t ruin this for yourself. 

Gerri had spilled the beans on the marriage over one afternoon of too many Mexican martini’s, an Austin specialty, and chips and salsa. They’d gotten married three years ago after Eva had gotten unexpectedly pregnant. Joel was traditional, he’d asked and eventually she’d agreed. They were both older than you, he’d just turned forty recently, and you guessed it’d made sense for them, at the time, but she’d left them soon after Sarah had been born. The marriage, the baby, hadn’t been in her plans, too much for her, Gerri said. They’d been separated for about a year and a half until she’d come back. They seemed to be trying to work it out now. Gerri claimed they were both miserable. You’d only met them the once – well, you’d seen Joel a few weeks ago, from a distance, when Tommy’d come to drop something off for Gerri before class, sitting in their truck. You don’t think he’d seen you – but you thought that their misery was very obviously apparent in that way that was easily recognizable to someone who, at one point, had existed in a house made only of misery. It breaks your heart for them all, in different ways, to recognize that singular brand of dissatisfaction that comes with living in a home where no happiness resided with you. 

But the reality of his marriage made you all the more terrified of him. To ever see him again. You wanted no part of that. Didn’t even want to exist in the same vicinity as someone who was experiencing something of that nature. You’d had enough of unhappy marriages and painful households in your own childhood. You never wanted to deal with that again. 

-

You’d read once that infidelity was a hereditary trait. Studies had shown that if you’d had a parent or even a sibling, someone in your household during your development, who’d been unfaithful, you were then more likely to also be unfaithful yourself. Something about that sort of childhood trauma inciting a propensity in the offspring to find it difficult to later on trust romantic partners, to incite trust themselves. Trust issues, emotional unavailability, baggage, blah, blah. Sometimes nature versus nurture was a real bitch, in your opinion. 

But as much as you wanted to call bullshit, the thought, the possibility of that being true, filled you with such an intense fear — debilitating, paralyzing, life altering. You found yourself with an immense inability to trust yourself, more than anything. Your greatest fear, the thing that scared you the most in all the world, was that you would be the perpetrator, that you would be the one to commit that sin. That you’d lose control, self awareness, morality, yourself. It wasn’t something your mind could even come to terms with, the possibility of hurting another person that way, betraying them in that manner. It seemed like the worst possible thing in the entire world that you could ever do to someone. After all, you’d watched your mother do it to your father, over and over again, your entire life, up until the point that she’d up and left the both of you. For many years, after her fateful abandoning, you’d watched him drink himself into a stupor and then into a grave. Years of waiting for her to come back, in love with a ghost or a figment of his imagination, for the woman he’d made her out to be, within the ever forgiving and naive confines of his love, had never existed. Something you could see, even through the lenses of your child eyes. 

She was an eternally flawed woman. Selfish, vain, manipulative, deceitful, but there was good in her too. She was eccentric and beautiful, and she could be kind, so funny, and immensely intelligent, her mind and wit, always sharp as a whip. It was, you thought, what made her so talented at deceiving others, at getting her way. She outsmarted everyone she came into contact with. But she was also weak and self serving, had never met anyone, in all her life, who she loved more than she loved herself. Not even you. Sometimes, you thought, especially not you. For you were the living reminder of all she’d lost and been forced to give up. It was a difficult, complicated, painful relationship you had with her, even now, all these years later. 

After she’d left, she’d kept in contact with you sparingly. The occasional call or birthday card. It had taken her three years to feel like seeing you again after she’d left when you were ten. The pains and awkwardness of puberty long started, endured on your own, before she’d even had the foresight to remember she had a daughter who might need her. It was an exceedingly painful and lonely time for a young girl to survive on her own, but you bore it, as you did the entirety of the fallout that came with her leaving. 

Your father was another story entirely. He’d fallen to pieces, completely, the day she’d left and had never had the strength of will to ever pull himself together again. It was a strange sort of existence the two of you had lived in those years, keeping each other company. Physically, he was there, but he was never present, never sentient. He drowned, for years and years, in a sea of pain and liquor, and he never resurfaced. You watched him sink, a young girl incapable of comprehending or acting in a way that could’ve helped him, as much as you wanted to or even tried, all of it was futile. Eventually he hit the bottom of the ocean and died there, and you were left more alone than ever. 

You remember there’d only been four people, in total, at his funeral. You and two men from the shithole bar he liked to lose himself at every week and the priest. It was a terribly painful thing to live through on your own. Humiliating in a very specific and acute way, for some reason. To know that this sad, pathetic specimen of a human being had had a hand in creating you, to know that he was your father and that you loved him, despite his weakness, his vices, his lack of care for you, you loved him. And you felt interminably sorry for the creature he’d been turned into at the hands of an uncaring and poisonous love. You hadn’t been able to tell her for ten months, after he’d been dead in the ground, that he’d passed. She’d not called, didn’t like giving you her number, said she was too busy to have to worry about you calling her at all hours of the day, as if you’d asked her for a single thing in the decade since she’d left. 

And you loved your mother, even after it all, you did, but it was a poignantly devastating moment, the day you realized she was not just your mother, but her own person, as well. The day that childlike naivety, unconscious self centeredness, was cast away to realize that she was savagely flawed and human, and that she did bad things that hurt good people. And still, and still she was your mother and you loved her. Your greatest influence, the hand that shaped you, and you loved her despite everything. It was only that, after the rose tinted glasses had been ripped away, and she was only then herself, nothing more – pedestal forsaken – she was just a flawed woman who sometimes made mistakes, made the wrong choices, hurt you and your father and fractured your family. That was a hard thing to come to terms with as a young girl. 

You realized now, with the lifetime of experience she’d inherited to you, that motherhood built a pedestal and a grave, all at once, over and over again. A woman could vacillate between being the Madonna and the whore, and the cycle was inescapable and destructive and enticing, all at the same time. It was something that one could try to avoid or run away from, but many times, it caught up to most, hooked its claws in you and dragged you away from the things you would’ve wanted or done otherwise. You realized this was what had happened to her. She’d never been built for motherhood, for the responsibility of raising a child, so she’d desecrated the altar of it, taken a sledgehammer to it and freed herself in the only way she saw she could, collateral damage be damned.

And so you’d isolated yourself, for the thought of doing the same thing to someone that you might have loved or someone that loved you, was soul destroying. And that was the saddest part of this whole overly cliché tragedy – that you were sure that, at a certain point in her life, she’d loved your father, as well. Perhaps not enough, not enough to change who she was, what she really wanted, but she had loved him in her own way, nevertheless.

Parallel to the tragedy was the ironic reality that in some very safely guarded part of you, you longed so, so desperately for your own chance at a happy family, love, children. How could you not? When you’d never experienced it for yourself during your own childhood. Always having to make your own meals, get yourself ready for school, alone at ten years old, walking to the bus unaccompanied, no one ever waiting for you, expecting you, watching over you. Alone, alone, always alone. How could you not want to build your own normal, loving, happy family for yourself? You wanted it very badly. 

But there was also no part of you that felt, in the most vital ways, capable of showing your underbelly in such a vulnerable way. You had always been too sensitive, a weeper from a long line of weepers, and the second thing you were most terrified of, after turning into your own mother, was being left again, abandoned to another derelict and lonely childhood. So your aloneness suited you, for now. At least, in terms of your romantic life. Your isolation kept you safe, guarded from those that would savage the sensitive and salted battleground that was your heart.

 That, however, did not mean that you were immune to wanting, to the disease of yearning, of desire, and so you found it most unfortunate, cosmically laughable and cruel, that it would be this man, this married,  beautiful, entirely unattainable man, that would have reminded you of that desire again, after it had lain dormant for so long: Joel. 

-

Joel tried to think of you only in the moments when he was feeling particularly strong. It was a challenge he’d set for himself from that day, all those months ago, when you’d appeared at his house on Easter. Like a fucking angel or a creature out of a fairy book. Soft and luminous and so fucking pretty. No, Joel tried very, very hard not to think of you. 

He failed often, though. He’d not forgotten you since that day. Had tried to fish, as subtly as possible, through Tommy, for information. See if he’d heard anything about you from Gerri. Any new details or gossip about the pretty little art teacher. Tommy was a terrible goddamn gossip, like a clucking hen. And Joel knew, he knew empirically, that thinking of you was wrong. That he had a wife that he needed to be respectful of, even if she was never respectful of him, fucking her coworker – or had been… still was — he couldn’t keep track anymore – didn’t really care, if he was being honest. But you, you were the one small, private thing he kept for himself. The thought of you, the image of you in his mind, you were only for his moments of great necessity. You’d been so sweet that afternoon, walking into his home with your bunny cake. That fucking cake haunted him – the look in your eyes as he watched you stand over the trashcan staring at it. He’d been so scared you’d start crying, that he’d have to comfort you, that he’d be able to take you into his arms. He’d been terrified of what would become of him if he’d gotten the opportunity to feel you like that. But no, you’d left. Made up some weak excuse he knew you could see he didn’t buy, and had quietly left, not even saying goodbye to the others. He’d had a terrible one-sided argument with Eva that night. Told her she’d been unnecessarily rude and cruel, doing that to a complete stranger who was just trying to be nice. She hadn’t batted a single eyelash, all his frustration going in one ear and out the other. 

He could, to a certain degree, understand where her behavior came from. He knew she was unhappy, he knew she hated their life together. That it was nothing like what she’d ever envisioned for herself, and so she acted out sometimes. At his age, he found now, that you couldn’t ever really fault a person for not being what they’d never been meant to be. He understood this, had accepted that his marriage would never be of the happy or intimate sort. That Eva had never wanted to be a mother, but had felt trapped by circumstance. He dealt with it. Or ignored it. Avoided looking directly at the ugly reality of it, more like. He had Sarah and work and Tommy, and now that his brother was with Gerri things had gotten a little better, happier for the family. She was a good addition – kind and spunky. She was good for his brother, and he was happy for them. 

But the day he’d met you – it had made a savage claw of want gouge through his entrails. He’d not remembered the last time he’d wanted something the way he did when he watched you walk out into the backyard long hair shimmering in the sun, and a nervous flush sweeping over the apples of your cheeks. And even if he’d been unattached, free to pursue you like he liked to dream about sometimes, you were so young – much too young and pretty for an old, washed up, has-been like him. But he could imagine it, like he’d said, only when he was feeling particularly strong. Or maybe particularly weak. He couldn’t keep track of which was safer anymore. When the years and work and responsibilities and grief and loneliness surged up too high and overwhelming for him to bear, he liked to think of you in that little yellow sundress. Wonder what it’d be like to be a younger man, to have met you first. A bad, selfish, terrible thought to have. But just in the quiet privacy of his mind, when he needed a small something to make him feel just a little better – he liked to think of you. 

The only other time he’d seen you, once when Tommy’d had to drop something for Gerri at the college, he’d insisted on tagging along. Hoping he’d maybe be lucky enough to get a glimpse of you, and oh, he’d been so, so rewarded. You’d been carrying a stack of supplies from your car into the building, one of those spiky things women wore twisted in your hair to keep it up, wisps of your long, heavy locks escaping the knot, and a little, red, spaghetti strapped top. The thin of it on your shoulder had slipped off the delicate wing of your clavicle as you balanced everything you’d carried in your arms and tried to kick your car door closed at the same time. It’d taken everything in him, all the self control he possessed, not to sprint over to you and offer to help you, to fall to his knees at your feet. You’d blown a strand of your hair out of your face, the cutest expression of frustration scrunching your brow. His gut had twisted almost painfully with yearning. He hadn’t even known he was capable of fucking yearning, but he sure as hell did now. He felt it sharply, piercingly, like a knife to the gut. He’d met you once for Christ’s sake, seen you in person only twice, but you plagued him, you plagued him. 

He knew it was probably partially a symptom of how alone he was. Lonely to his very core. His marriage had never been a real one, no closeness, no intimacy. A byproduct born of one drunken night, and Joel’s need to do the right thing, give his child a stable home with two parents and all the love he could give her. And Sarah, Sarah was the greatest gift that he’d ever been given. This perfect little person that he still, three years later, could not believe had come from a piece of him. 

He’d told Eva that he’d do whatever she wanted, would accept whatever she’d chosen when she’d first realized she was pregnant. She’d refused the alternative route vehemently, and so he’d never suggested it again. If he was being honest, he’d been happy when he’d found out, in some small way. The situation wasn’t ideal, of course, they’d been veritable strangers at that point, but he’d been thirty seven, at the time, and he liked the idea of children. Eva was attractive and intelligent. He’d proposed immediately, gone out and gotten a ring and gotten down on one knee. He’d naively thought that perhaps, eventually, with time, they might grow closer. That idea was squashed quickly. She’d made it clear that she’d never wanted to marry him, but she also didn’t want to go at it alone, knew he was responsible and reliable, and so she’d accepted. And perhaps, he should have tried harder to win her over afterwards, but if he was being as honest as he could be, he wasn’t very interested either, didn’t really mind the lack of intimacy with her. They just weren’t a good match.

She’d left a few months after she’d given birth. Ran off with some guy she’d met – only a note left saying she couldn’t do it anymore. He hadn’t tried to go after her, hadn’t tried to bring her back or look for her. A better man probably would have, would have fought for his wife, for the mother of his child. But he’d never loved her, not even close, and so he’d taken care of his baby girl, had tried to be everything she needed and worked as hard as he could so that she’d never want for anything. Eva had come back after about a year and a half – her affair had run its course, and she’d said she wanted to try again with Sarah, that she’d made a mistake, wanted to be part of her daughter’s life. Of course he’d let her come back. He wanted Sarah to have a mother that was present, to have everything a child should have. And afterall, it was no hardship for him personally. She didn’t want a relationship with him, only Sarah. And so they’d settled into this strange agreement of co-parents slash roommates who just happened to be married. Eva liked to keep pretenses up, so they did the occasional family thing together. Especially now that Tommy was with Gerri, she liked to pretend at the double date thing, occasionally. Even though Eva couldn’t stand the poor girl. It was a pieced together sort of life, but it was better than what some had, and Sarah had her mother. He couldn’t complain.

But he did like to imagine a sort of alternative sometimes – something different, less lonely. He could tell she was going to leave again soon, more unsatisfied and frustrated and restless than ever. He couldn’t even find it in himself to resent her for it, it only hurt him for Sarah’s sake, for he didn’t think she’d be coming back this time. 

-

It hadn’t been such a bad idea to come after all, you think, as you lounge on the dock by the lake. The sun is strong but not burning – warm and soothing. It feels like there are ghost fingers stroking all along the bare skin of your arms and legs. Gerri had made a pitcher of sangria and you were slightly tipsy off it now. A light weight, through and through. 

The house they’d rented was gorgeous. All exposed wood and big glass windows right on the lakefront. Gerri’s sister was a doctor – a spine surgeon or something really fancy. She’d rented the house and invited all of you – no chance for Joel’s wife to be pissed off that you’d tagged along. 

There were large boxes of the loveliest white hydrangeas along one side of the dock. The sweet scent of them drifting around you as you lounged on the chair you’d planted yourself in with your sangria. Yes, this was a good idea. You’d managed to evade Joel and his wife in the hours you’d been here. Gerri and Tommy were great as always and her sister and her partner were so nice. You’d talked about the pottery class, she wanted to pick up a new hobby, trying out the whole work-life-balance thing, and she’d thought pottery’d be a good fit for her. She was planning on signing up for the next semester. 

You’re slightly dozing now. The warm sun and sweet alcohol making you languorous and drowsy and all fizzy on the inside. You think you might be able to hear the breeze sliding through each individual blade of grass on the bank, whistling over the surface of the water, and you can’t stop picturing his arms in your mind, but you’re pretending to ignore that, or pretending the bulging, mouth-watering muscles, prominent veins running under the surface of his tan skin, dusted with a light coating of golden brown hair belonged to someone who was not him. He has the largest hands you’ve ever seen, and you wonder what one of them wrapped around your throat would feel like. Bad, inappropriate thoughts. 

You have one arm slung above your head, resting at the crown of your scalp to partially shield the sensitive skin there from the strong sun when you feel a sudden piercing pain, right to the center of your palm. You shriek, jolting violently, glass of sangria falling and shattering on the deck and stumbling up out of your chair, sending it flying back topside. A wasp buzzes menacingly around you, and you shriek again, cracked and painful. The thing had stung you right in the center of your tender palm. You hear the quick paced steps of someone approaching, too distracted trying to evade the horrible thing when you hear Joel’s voice. “Stay still, it’s okay. I’ll get it.”

Your hand really, really hurts. You stop your swatting and feel the back of your eyes pinch, hot tears pooling in the corners. Not only is the sting incredibly painful, but you really hate bees, wasps, all the ugly mean things that buzz and sting. You can feel the slight tremble of your frame begin to take over as you try to patiently wait for him to get rid of it. 

He comes closer, “It’s okay, he’s gone. Did it get you? C’mere, lemme see.”

You clutch the injured hand to your chest, try and scoot away from him shaking your head, but you get too near to the edge, and his hand shoots out to cup your elbow, other hand coming to circle your waist and turn you so you’re standing in the center, and he’s closer to the edge. 

“No, no, it’s okay. It got you, lemme see it–” he gently circles his big rough palm on the thin of your wrist, and now you’re really shaking.

“It’s o–okay,” you hitch, you feel a tear slide down your cheek. Fucking embarrassing. “I’m okay, really. It’s nothing.” You try and pull your limb out of his grasp, but he pulls you closer. He says your name then, not necessarily sharply, but in the way of a rubber band snapping against your skin, a slightly jarring crack followed by a tingle, something that reverberates through your entire body.

Then gentle: “Just come here,” and coaxing. How could anyone ever say no to a voice like that. So deep, so patient. “Lemme see, it’s okay. No, don’t be scared. Lemme see, open your hand for me, sweetheart. I’ll be gentle, it’s okay,” his soothing voice over and over. Coaxing you into capitulation, into following his orders. He smooths his rough thumb gently, gently over the sides of your palm, coaxing your fingers to uncurl and let him see the hurt. “Oh, it’s alright. None of that trembling, sweet girl.” And then he brings your hand up to his hot, wet mouth and presses his lips to the wound, gently sucking. You can feel the wet of his tongue pass over it once, slowly sucking the venom out of your palm. You feel everything below your belly button go hot and liquid at the feel of his tongue on your skin. Oh, God, you want to feel that mouth everywhere, between your legs. 

You think you let a jagged whimper claw its way out your throat, for his eyes flit to yours, a flash of heat igniting them. He pulls his mouth away, turns to spit, thumb gently brushing over the tender inside of your wrist. He says your name so softly. “That’s better. You’re okay. No tears.” 

His large hands completely engulf yours. His fingers are thick and long, his nails clipped short and neat. Beautiful, masculine hands. Working hands. He doesn’t wear a ring. “We can get a clove of garlic on this,” he’s still cradling your limb, “Heard that’s good for stings.”

This is bad, bad, bad, bad. Not part of your plan to stay away from him at all. He’s staring at your cradled hand, his gaze trained on the way his own palm dwarfs yours. You feel his touch tighten for just a second, he brings his eyes back to yours, and you watch as a swallow passes through the strong column of his throat. 

He called you sweetheart. 

There are so many reasons why you know he’s dangerous to you, why you should stay away from him: his kindness, how competent he is — the way it seems like, no matter what in life could ever present itself to him, he’d be able to take it in, take care of it, fix it. He could handle anything. How fucking gorgeous he is, his hands, his face, his body, the dark curls, the slightest hint of silver threads beginning to appear through them, the deep dark eyes, but most of all, more than any other reason, the way he says your name — like the worst thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life, and also the loveliest. So soft and deep and soothing. A voice that could get a person to do anything, capitulate to anything, commit any crime. 

And what was it about wanting something you should not want, could never have, that made you want it all the more? Rebellion of the highest order calls your name. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. He still has you clutched in his grasp, is staring at you almost in shock. You try to pull away and his grip tightens for one second, like he can’t bear the thought of letting you go, and then releases you, lets you pull your injured hand back into your chest. 

“Alright?”

And you’re so disoriented by him, by his touch that you instinctively reply: “Yes. Are you?”

 He looks confused for a second, shakes his head a little and then laughs, “Yeah – yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart.” He shouldn’t be calling you that, but it sounds so lovely coming out of his mouth. You’ll tell him to stop next time. It’s okay. Next time he says it you’ll tell him not to call you that anymore. Embarrassment burns your cheeks. 

You shake your head, “Sorry, I–”

“It’s alright. No need to apologize. Let’s get you inside. Get somethin’ on that hand.”

You take a step back from him, and he matches it with one step of his own forward, like he isn’t planning on letting you run away. It makes the speed of your heart kick up a notch, a hummingbird fluttering within the confines of your chest. “No, really, it’s okay. I’ll ice it or something. I’m fine, honestly. Thank you for– for your help.” You feel like you’re blinking a hundred times a minute, the sun suddenly scorching, when just a moment ago it had been soft and warm. 

You need to get away from him.

“Rubbin’ a garlic clove on it’s good for stings. There’s some in the kitchen, I’ll get it for you.” He reaches a hand out as if to take hold of you again, and you take two more steps away. This time he does not follow, you see the muscle of his jaw flutter. 

“Really, Joel. It’s okay.” You feel like you’ve said these words to him before, like all your short acquaintanceship has consisted of, is you apologizing and running away, bowing out before it gets too scary or complicated or threatening. He probably thinks you’re an idiot. “Th– thank you for your help. I’m just gonna –” you hitch your thumb back towards the house, “I’m just going to go back inside. Sorry.” 

He only nods, frozen on the dock as you walk away from him.

Chapter .2

Netherfeildren Masterlist

[saym0-0]

oh my god,,, joel smallishbeans sculptor of incredibly lifelike clones in esmp1 now making statues in hermitcraft,, statue of him and lizzie in their s1 skins,, oh my goddd im literally so insane i need to go to BED BUT I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT HIIMMM HUWAGH

[deityoftherain]

sculpting memories - Smalletho Soulmates & Sibling Bad Boys Fantasy AU

Rating: Teen

Relationship: M/M, Gen

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 8,285

Summary:

Joel was content enough with his life as a sculptor, sticking around his hometown. Sure, it got a little lonely when his brothers were out exploring with their soulmates, left with only his creations and whatever managed to travel over the soulbound he shared with his soulmate to keep him company. A soulmate he's never met, and likely never will if he stayed where he was, according to his brothers.

He ignored their advice, forcing himself to accept fate in exchange for his own comfort. He was fine as things were. Obviously.

Luckily for him, and as a relief to Grian and Jimmy, fate had a different plan for Joel, showing its hand the moment a handsome stranger took refuge in his studio...

I wrote this for @i-got-hit-by-a-planet through the @mcytblrholidayexchange event! I really enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it :D

You can read the full fic under the cut if you don't want to reroute to AO3 <3

Joel could be cheesy and go on about how sculpting always came easily to him, but that would be a lie. Sculpting wasn’t just something he picked up one day and was suddenly a master at, no. Just like everyone else, he got himself an apprenticeship and worked his way to the skill level he was at now. 

What Joel could claim, however, was that he was really fucking ambitious. He always strived to create far beyond his skill level, which only pushed him to get better. He improvised, adapted, and overcame any challenge he faced until he was satisfied with the result. 

To be fair, he was a very slow learner at first. Like, astronomically slow, but as he worked day in and day out, that changed. Joel became more familiar with how the clay worked and the methods passed down from mentor to apprentice. 

He was actually quite quick now, all things considered. Joel could create small and simple cups, bowls, and vases within a few minutes, those of which became his source of income. Traveling traders would buy some of his wares and resell them beyond the territory of Woodland Forests. 

It was a steady gig, at the end of the day. It was certainly more steady than the freelance work he preferred. The freelance work was more interesting, of course, taking another’s ideas and making something beautiful out of it, but it wasn’t consistent. Consistency was necessary to support oneself. 

His favorite creations, however, were the ones that he made for himself. Joel liked to indulge himself after his work was done, taking the clay and molding faces and creating landscapes on vases. They often came to him in glimpses from his soulmate’s eyes for he’s never seen much of what he’s created for himself. Joel’s soulmate, after all, was what inspired him to sculpt in the first place.

Joel knew he had a soulmate far before he ever understood the concept himself. For as long as Joel could remember, he was bound to his soulmate. The connection was never strong enough to contact them with any sort of intentionality, no, but it was enough for Joel to deduct what sort of person they were. Their souls were connected to one another, after all, destined by the universe. 

Not all soulmates were romantic, but each was a life partner. Sometimes, soulmates were platonic, sometimes queerplatonic, occasionally familial, or something else under the sun. A soulmate didn’t complete another person, nor were they meant to dictate the other’s personal life, but a soulmate was a partner, someone meant to perfectly fit in their soulmate’s life like they had always been there.

And, in a way, they always have.

Joel knew deep within himself that his soulmate was to be his partner in the romantic sense. He didn’t know how to explain how he knew, he just did. His brothers would always laugh at him for being so… mushy. Grian did, at least. Jimmy occasionally laughed too, mostly relieved not to be the one teased at that moment, but Joel would always glare at him and he’d shut up quickly.

“What do you think your soulmate would be like?” Jimmy wondered out loud, though the question was directed at them both. He laid with his back to the floor and his legs on his bed. His yellow wings were sprawled out beneath him, a genetic trait from their mother’s side of the family.  

“Stupidly oblivious,” Grian huffed bitterly, arms folded across his chest as he sat with his legs situated to look vaguely like a butterfly. His macaw-banded wings– also from their mother’s side– were folded into a heart behind him, feathers brushing up against the wall. 

“Well, duh.” Joel rolled his eyes, tail like a wolf’s flicking once to the left before sweeping to curl around his right side. He was the only one of his brothers to inherit the wolf genetics from their father’s side of the family. “It’s Scar! He’s always had his head in the clouds. That, and he can never sit still, which says a lot considering he uses a wheelchair to get around.” 

“And sometimes crutches!” Grian rushed to his soulmate’s defense, despite the fact they all knew this and that Grian’s response was half-baked at best. 

“You should tell him you’re soulmates,” Jimmy suggested for the thousandth time. “I would want my soulmate to tell me if they found out.” 

“Grian’s not going to do that,” Joel cut in, already knowing the truth. He poked Grian’s side with his foot, earning a squawk of protest and a swipe at his leg. Grian missed, and Joel continued, “We both know that Grian’s too much of a chicken.” 

“I am not!” Grian tried to defend himself, face turning red with embarrassment. “I just… we’re too young to start any sort of romantic relationship. I don’t even know if he wants that. I’m just giving him space to try and figure it out.” “You’re fourteen?” Jimmy pointed out, brow furrowed. “Fourteen is a perfectly reasonable age to start courting, especially if the intended target is your soulmate!” 

“Not the point!” Grian dismissed Jimmy, but Joel ignored that fork in their conversation.  

“Really?” Joel deadpanned at Grian. “Scar Goodtimes? Mr. Physical Affection Extraordinaire? The fucker that makes innuendos all the time and pretends to not know what he said?” 

“He just doesn’t think before he speaks,” Grian murmured half heartedly. He cleared his throat and raised his voice to direct the conversation away from him. “What about you, Joel? Any closer to finding yours?” 

Joel clamped his jaw shut and averted his gaze. He didn’t want to talk about it. The air in the room soured from playful to tense. Luckily, Jimmy saved him, speaking up to talk about what he’s gathered about his soulmate through their connection. 

It had been a good several years since that moment, over a decade, in fact, and Joel still didn’t want to talk about it. The glimpses of his soulmate’s life that he was granted by the universe depicted lands far from his home in Woodland Forests. They featured faces of people he didn’t recognize with landmarks he didn’t know where to begin to locate. 

Finding his soulmate would require adventure and travel, but Joel had no interest in such a thing. Joel was a homebody at heart. He liked the predictability of his life. He enjoyed the connections he has with the other residents of Woodland Forests. He relished in the sense of community and solidarity clear between the townsfolk. And, while he wouldn’t always admit it, Joel loved and appreciated his family, no matter how much he teased them or they teased back. They knew this, of course, Grian often calling him a mother hen, but taking care of his younger brothers was just the birth-assigned task each eldest child was given. Joel couldn’t abandon them if he tried.

…even if they frequently encouraged him to go out and explore like they each had done many times before.

“Come on, Joel!” Jimmy whined, draping himself against Joel. The taller was lucky Joel was strong because they would have both otherwise toppled over, cracking their skulls open on the rough earth. “Please?” 

“I said no,” Joel huffed, irritated at Jimmy’s persistent questioning. 

Jimmy flopped off of Joel, jutting out his lower lip in a pout. “But it would be so much fun! Do you plan to stay in this kingdom forever?” 

“Yes,” Joel replied, dry and blunt. He turned on his heel and left Jimmy there, not intending to humor his brother any longer, and that was that. 

What purpose did he have to leave? He liked it here, and he had no desire to enter foreign lands and potentially land himself into trouble in another kingdom. His bad-mouth and anger issues had gotten him into enough ruckus over the years. He had no desire to widen the amount of available jail cells he could spend the night in.

Besides, Joel had set up a comfortable life for himself in Woodland Forests. Occasionally, his family expressed worries of him being too lonely or too isolated or some shit like that, something about how they couldn’t always be around and had their own lives and soulmates, but Joel always waved their concerns off. He was content with his clay and the pieces of his soulmate the universe chose to deliver to him. Plus, how could he be lonely when he had customers and the other townsfolk?

Speaking of his soulmate, they must be experiencing some sort of adrenaline rush because Joel felt wired up, hurried, and out of breath despite barely moving for the past hour or three. Extreme or strong emotions were often shared between soulbounds, which always gave Joel a bit of whiplash no matter how long that sort of thing had been occurring.

“I don’t know why I’m so sad!” Jimmy wailed in distress, tears rapidly flowing from his tear ducts and wetting the front of his tunic. His body shuttered with each breath as he hugged himself tightly, fingernails digging into his shoulders. 

Joel tried to comfort him the best he could, but there wasn’t much any of them could do. If Jimmy couldn’t pinpoint a reason for such emotions, then they were likely being shared through his soulbound, meaning Jimmy had no control of the sensations. It was mostly up to Jimmy’s soulmate to get their act together. 

Still though, Joel couldn’t bear it to see his youngest brother so upset, so he pulled Jimmy into a hug and combed his fingers through Jimmy’s hair, muttering gentle reassurances reserved only for tender moments. 

The door to his shop swung open, forcing Joel out of his memories. His wolf-like ears twitched to attention as his gaze snapped to the intruder. Joel barely had time to process what happened as the stranger ducked behind a cabinet and curled as small as he could in the corner between the wall and the cabinet. Their hair and fur were snow white, not surprising once Joel came to the conclusion that they were an arctic fox hybrid. He’s known other fox hybrids, but never an arctic fox, so that in itself was interesting, but also what the hells was he doing in his workshop? 

“Uh, hello?” Joel narrowed his eyes at the other man, crossing his arms across his chest. “The place’s closed. Come back tomorrow.”

The arctic fox hybrid had a black mask over his nose and mouth, covering most of his face, but the fear in his wide eyes shined with enough emotion to make up for the concealed parts. “Please hide me!”

Joel gaped at him in disbelief. Who did this guy think he was, telling him what to do? Joel scoffed at the ridiculousness of this situation. “Hide you?”

“Yes,” the other nodded quickly, voice no more than a whisper. “Don’t tell them I’m here. Please.”

Joel furrowed his brow at him, which only had the other flick his fox-like ears back and pathetically beg for Joel’s aid using only his eyes. He was clearly not from here, based solely on his accent and the fact Joel knew everyone in this part of Woodland Forests. Joel sucked in his lips, struggling to resist such a pitiful plea. His brothers always did this sort of shit too, and Joel was rarely strong enough to refuse for long.

Am I really going to do this? Joel wondered to himself as he sighed heavily, absentmindedly tugging his long hair out of its ponytail and then redoing it to be more secure. “Fine, but I demand an explanation after.”

“Deal,” the arctic fox hybrid was quick to agree to the terms, somehow shrinking back into the corner even more.

Joel averted his gaze from the stupidly handsome man and walked to the door to his workshop. He had thought he had locked it, but apparently not. This time, he ensured the door was not going to budge without inhuman strength. The sign on the door indicated that he wasn’t taking customers or commissions at the moment, so it would hopefully deter whoever was after the stranger.

The arctic fox hybrid’s breathing hitched in his throat door as shouting grew closer to the door, but they both were deadly silent by the time someone rattled the doorknob in an attempt to open it. “It’s locked! He must have fled further down. Come on, before he gets away!” 

Joel waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore before pressing his wolf ear against the door. He could feel his own heartbeat, though he wasn’t sure why because he wasn’t scared! What reason did he have to be scared? He hadn’t done anything wrong! Why was anxiety pricking at his skin so furiously?

Eventually, Joel backed up from the door and turned around. He didn’t bother to look in the stranger’s direction, simply gesturing for the other man to follow him toward the door in the back, one that led up to a small loft above his workshop. Joel was about to enter when he paused to glance over his shoulder, checking to see if the other was following him.

He was not.

Joel raised an eyebrow. “What are you waiting for?” “You–” the arctic fox hybrid squinted, obviously confused, “you want me to come with you? You’re not kicking me out?”  “Does it look like I’m kicking you out?” Joel rolled his eyes. Hadn’t his intentions been obvious? “Come with me before I kick you out and you take your chances with whoever is after you. This better not bite me in the ass, by the way, or you’re going to regret it.”

Joel didn’t wait this time, climbing his way up the spiral staircase to his studio flat. The flat wasn’t very big, but it was plenty for one person– maybe two if they were comfortable being in close proximity– complete with necessities and not too much more. Truthfully, it was all he needed, and he utilized the space well. While it may not be his main passion, Joel could confidently decorate with the best of them.

In an attempt to be courteous, Joel gave his guest– the stranger seemed to have been upgraded from intruder to guest in Joel’s mind within a short timeframe– space to take everything in. He retrieved the kettle off the counter and filled it up with water before stretching toward a nearby cabinet to fetch a pouch of magic fire dust. There were many ways to bring a kettle full of water to boil for tea, but fire dust was Joel’s preferred method.

“Do you need help?” his guest offered, suddenly appearing behind Joel and startling him. Joel cursed loudly, and his guest apologized, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Uh, my name is Etho, by the way.”

“Etho?” Joel parroted, eyeing him up and down. “That’s not a name you hear everyday. Did your parents name you after the then-baby prince of whatever that kingdom is called? The one to the west, I think. Are they fans of them or something?” “Something like that, yes,” Etho chuckled awkwardly with a half-hearted shrug.

“Bet they felt all fancy and foreign,” Joel joked, finding himself slipping into a far too familiar territory with someone he didn’t know. “Etho, so exotic I can’t even pronounce it like you can. Accents, ey?”

Etho’s expression morphed into an almost fond one, the look he gave Joel making him feel strangely but wonderfully warm. Joel didn’t quite know how to handle that, nor the butterflies in his stomach or the intoxication that came just from a masked smile. The blummin’ smile reached his eyes, and Joel found himself wanting to take a peek or five under that mask of his.

“It’s okay,” Etho assured him. “I find it cute.”

Cute. Joel studied Etho, somewhat warily but also a smidge flustered, before flicking his ear and turning back to prepping the tea. “I’m Joel, by the way.”

“Joel,” Etho repeated with a single nod. “I like that name. It’s nice.” “Thanks.” Joel had almost expected Etho to make unsolicited comments on his name next, but none came. It almost infuriated Joel, wishing Etho would take the mickey out of him like he had to Etho.

Not sure what else to say, silence fell between them. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t very great either. Etho simply stood there awkwardly as Joel finished the tea, too close for comfort, but not close enough to properly make content. It was strange– Etho was strange– but Joel couldn’t find it in himself to be too bothered.

Once Joel poured the tea into the cups, he led Etho over to the two-chaired table Joel often spent meals eating at alone. That was, if his brothers didn’t come over, anyway. If they did, he pulled out a spare chair he could fold down and tuck away in a multitude of locations. It was currently slid under his bed.

“So,” Joel started once they settled down, green eyes piercing into Etho’s soul, “are you going to tell me why you’re on the run?” Etho blinked rapidly at him, as if surprised. Perhaps he was. Something in Joel was confident that he was, but he didn’t linger on that thought. “How did you know?”

“You broke into my workshop, ducked behind the nearest cabinet, and begged me to keep you hidden,” Joel deadpanned, unable to resist rolling his eyes. Was this fox guy dumb? “Plus, I know everyone in the greater Woodlands, and I don’t know you, so d’ya wanna tell me what you were running from or where you were running from? Maybe even a why, may I be so lucky.”

Silence seemed to echo off the walls, as impossible as that was, each moment feeling impossibly stretched thin before Etho shook his head. “I don’t want to say.”

Joel scoffed and took a sip of his tea. “So you’re a coward.” “I am not!” Etho denied, the part of his face Joel could see around his mask flushing pink with embarrassment.

“Mhm, yep, sure,” Joel agreed dryly, swirling the liquid in his cup. 

Etho averted his gaze, and Joel allowed quiet to fall over them. He had expected the hush to be awkward and full of tension, but it felt oddly… peaceful? It was strangely comfortable, like they were meant to be together as they were. Just… existing beside each other. Did the arctic fox hybrid have magic? Was he bewitching him somehow? Did Joel even care if he was or not?

Joel was halfway done with his tea when he broke the silence to ask, “Do you not like tea?”

“Huh?” Etho asked only to answer his own question before Joel got a chance to respond. “Oh, I do, I like tea, I just…”

“What? Are you scared?” Joel teased, a smirk growing on his lips. “It’s not poisonous, if that’s what you’re scared about. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you already, or handed you over to the people looking for you.”

Etho crossed his arms over his chest, ears flicking back for just a moment in a way Joel honestly found really fucking adorable. “I’m not scared of you.”

“Oh yeah?” Joel raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Prove it?” “Prove it?” Etho repeated in disbelief. 

“You think I’m joking?” Joel didn’t back down from the challenge, staring him dead in the eyes. 

Etho sighed in defeat with a slight shake of his head. “You’re impossible.”

And perhaps Joel was impossible, as it were, and he knew many would agree, but there was… something on Etho’s face that felt… fond? Was Joel reading that correctly? 

“Yet you love it,” Joel shot back in a near automatic response.

Etho chuckled and… yep, the something was definitely fond. “That I do.”

Creases formed by Etho’s eyes, like he was smiling underneath the mask, which only made Joel want to smile back. They were bickering, sure, but it was simply playful, maybe even fun. Warmth spread throughout his limbs as his heart beat just a little faster.

Time seemed to slow down as Etho started to remove his mask. Breath caught in Joel’s throat as the other peeled away the fabric to reveal what he looked like underneath. Joel had thought he was stunning before, but damn. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as Etho raised the tea cup to his to take a sip.

Joel averted his gaze for less than a second before meeting Etho’s eyes again. He wasn’t a coward; he could look some blummin’ guy in the eye! He studied the now-maskless man carefully, hiding the action by sipping his tea and maintaining idle conversation.

Etho was peculiar, but Joel didn’t find that fact necessarily bad. He had a scar over his left eye, a wound that must affect his vision in some sort of way. The eye almost looked bloodshot or like one of Joel’s clients– an albino cat hybrid– but it was less of a crimson or scarlet, and more blood red. His unaffected eye reminded him of Grian’s slightly soulless irises.

Neither Etho nor Grian’s eyes were truly soulless, but the inside joke had lasted between the brothers far too long at this point for Joel to forget. He and his brothers tended to be the kind to hold onto terms like that for reference later, especially if the term in question was stupid, funny, or an unintended innuendo.

Next thing Joel knew, hours had passed, the sun long gone below the horizon. They moved from the table to the “love seat”. It was a two-cushioned couch, meant for only two people, but Joel, Jimmy, and Grian have made it work when none of them were in the mood to sacrifice the prime spot and sit on the floor.

“Tim, get your boney hip away!” Grian shoved Jimmy away from him and toward Joel, which only resulted in protests from Jimmy and the loss of Joel’s couch space. 

“Jeez, man! Grian!” Jimmy tried to slap away Grian’s efforts to avoid being forced off the couch. “I wasn’t even that close! Stop shoving!” 

“Don’t make me kick you both out of my flat,” Joel threatened, resisting Jimmy’s intrusion in his space and pushing him back towards Grian. 

“You wouldn’t do that to your favorite brothers!” Grian countered, wings fluffing out. 

“You’re my only brothers,” Joel deadpanned, his wolf-like ear twitching. “And yes, I would. Would you like to test me?” 

“Guys!” Jimmy whined as he was seesawed back and forth between his older brothers. 

…it didn’t always work.

Etho and him fit just well on the sofa, and it helped that Joel didn’t mind when they brushed against each other. In fact, Etho’s touch felt electric, perhaps magnetic, drawing Joel in despite his reservations. As someone who wasn’t huge on physical contact from others, that desire caught him off guard. He didn’t fully know what to do with himself, but that didn’t stop him nor Etho from shifting closer and finding excuses to come into contact.

“Stop touching me!” Joel ordered in a whine, maybe eight years old. 

“I’m not touching you!” Grian’s finger hovered over Joel’s skin, close enough Joel’s hairs could inform him of where Grian was touching without him having to look. 

Joel smacked his hand away, but that didn’t deter his brother. “Yes you are!” 

“No I’m not!” Grian continued to be a nuisance, as most younger brothers tended to be. 

That memory occurred so long ago that Joel couldn’t recall how it ended.

Either way, even when ignoring the physical, Joel still found it odd how easy Etho was to talk to. It was like they had known each other their whole lives, and were just meeting to catch up. Joel had never gotten along with a stranger this well, especially when he wasn’t doing his best to behave. Sucking up to authority to hide that he was a menace in every other situation was more of a Grian tactic than his. Joel was more likely to be unapologetically himself and suffer whatever consequences came with that.

Not that Etho was an authority, hells no! Etho was an equal; they were on the same playing field. They just fit together like adjacent puzzle pieces. Etho seemed to get him, and Joel relished in the fact that his quips and teasing were well-received. As Etho grew comfortable, he began reciprocating the jabs in his own witty way. 

Joel loved hi- it. 

“It’s getting late,” Joel announced with mild regret, finding himself not wanting the night to end. Stars, was he falling for Etho already? His brothers would never let that go if they knew. 

“That it is,” Etho acknowledged with a slight frown.

His eyes followed Joel’s gaze to the skylight he had installed, positioned to allow for sunlight while maintaining privacy from those walking around outside. The day’s light was far gone now, but the stars were visible and he didn’t have to worry about onlookers, and that was more than enough for Joel. 

The stars were truly gorgeous this time of year, bright and twinkling on the cloudless night. Maybe Joel would be able to show Etho at some point. They could find a nice place to lie down and stargaze… would Etho enjoy something like that?

What is wrong with me? Joel cried inwardly, wanting to shove his face into his hands and half-groan half-scream his feelings out. Instead of groan-screaming, he tried to muffle a yawn into Etho’s shoulder before hugging Etho’s arm like a stuffed animal and using his upper arm as a somewhat-boney pillow.

“Are you planning to stick around?” Joel asked in a sleepy murmur, more hopeful sounding than he would have preferred. He shifted so he could observe Etho’s reaction before expanding on his previous question. “Sticking around Woodland Forests, I mean.” “Maybe.” Etho hummed non-committedly, a falsely innocent grin tugging at his lips as his gaze pierced down through his soul. “Why? Do you want me to stick around?”

Sly fox, Joel’s mentally accused with feigned annoyance, like he wouldn’t do similar in Etho’s situation. 

“As if!” Joel scoffed, though he made no effort to move. “I just wanted to know if you planned to use my shop to coward again or not.”

“It was not cowering,” Etho corrected, nay insisted. “I was simply using the resources at my disposal to avoid an undesired situation, like being smart and clever and stuff.”

“Sure,” Joel rolled his eyes, though there was no bite behind the motion. He struggled to hide how happy he was, which was easy considering the weariness that pulled at his limbs. It was past his bedtime, as he had woken early that day to work on his sculpting.

If Etho said something else, Joel didn’t catch it, half-slipping into unconsciousness. Perhaps he would have fully entered the dream realm, but something alerted him enough to jump with a start, forcing Joel back into the awake world. He partially sat up, brushing his hair out of his face– when had he let it down?– as he blinked rapidly in confusion. “Huh? Wha?” “Shh, it’s okay,” Etho soothed, arms securely around Joel as he whispered into his ear. Joel settled back down and Etho’s fingers returned– returned? How did he know that?– to combing through Joel’s brown locks. If Etho were anyone else, Joel may have been embarrassed, but… no one had to know. Not when Joel wanted it so bad, wanted that comfort. “Sleep, don’t worry. I got you.” A soft ecstasy covered him like a warm blanket, constant and overwhelming, but also secure and not too much to handle. Joel wasn’t sure if the emotion was dulled by his half-awake state, or if it was just another thing that his soulmate unintentionally shared through their soulbound. Before he could think about it too hard, Joel lost hold on his intelligent thoughts, slipping into the world of the unconscious.

If Joel had taken a moment to step back, perhaps he would have noticed the signs earlier. Grian and Jimmy teased him for being dense, but how did they expect Joel to connect the dots when Etho’s presence was so natural, much like he had been there the whole time? There was no “adjustment period” or significant effort put into getting used to living together. They just were. 

“What inspired this?” Etho inquired one day, not too far in the future. 

“What inspired what?” Joel responded with his own question, shifting his attention from his busy work– from creating bowls to sell for profit– to Etho. “Hold on, give me a second, and I’ll look.” 

The arctic fox hybrid had spent a lot of time watching Joel work, as if he were studying techniques with nothing but his vision to aid him, but, those past few days, Etho turned his focus elsewhere. Instead of watching Joel create, he studied previous creations of Joel’s instead. 

Many sculptures perplexed him, Joel could tell, but Etho denied the claim whenever Joel brought it up. Etho had reassured them that they were very good, just vaguely… familiar. Joel shrugged, not often having an answer for him. Perhaps the illustrations he committed to sculpted pottery weren’t as unique or specifically detailed as he thought his imagination was, not if Etho had seen such works before. 

Joel got to a stopping point, wiped his hands with the designated rag, and got up to join Etho where he was gawking. He froze as his gaze landed on a sculpted boat, one of his most prized creations. Joel had spent well over a month dedicated to specifically it– tending to every detail he could possibly think of including– so long that he even gave it a name. 

“The Relation. The relation-?” Etho read off the lettering Joel had meticulously added as a little inside joke to himself. Joel had thought it was hilarious, at the time, and Etho must have thought so too by the smile creased by his eyes. “The Relation Ship! Aha, I get it. That’s clever, I like it.” 

“Thanks,” Joel grumbled, carefully picking up the boat like it would break if he looked at it wrong to locate it somewhere else away from Etho. 

That must have confused Etho, for he scrunched his nose and tilted his head as if trying to view the situation from another angle. He didn’t protest Joel’s action, however, something Joel appreciated. Etho was good about that, not pushing Joel’s boundaries when it came to something clearly important to him. 

The Relation Ship wasn’t for other people to see, only Joel and his soulmate. His brothers hadn’t even seen it! Perhaps that was a little overprotective of him– perhaps silly or childish were better words– but The Relation Ship was one of the only things he and his soulmate shared! 

Joel hoped it was something they shared, at least.

No one could ever truly know what would be shared through one’s soulbound. One could make an educated guess or a half decent prediction, but nothing was for sure. Just because Joel saw flashes of sketched boats through his soulmate’s eyes via the soulbound link didn’t mean his soulmate received any notice of Joel’s recreation. 

He sometimes worried that they’d never see it, but that thought saddened him too much to linger on…

Okay, anyway–

There were times Joel and Etho simply existed together, doing their own things or working on nothing at all. Parallel play, he thought Etho called it when referring to that time at some point. He wasn’t sure, but either way, that wasn’t the point. The point was that Etho had started to hang around even while Joel sculpted, but not always to watch this time. Instead, Etho brought down some parchment from the loft that he had paid for himself and sketched whatever he fancied.

Despite Joel’s jabs at Etho for being a lousy freeloader, he was actually anything but. He did persuade Joel into letting him stay with him at his flat for free, despite all logic and good sense, but Etho strangely didn’t disappoint. Etho made himself useful, helping keep the flat clean and going out into town for odd jobs. Apparently Etho was handy with redstone– a sort of magical technology Joel only knew the basics of– brushing off the skill as just a hobby despite his expertise. He raked in more than enough money to earn his keep.

Based on what Joel knew about his handiness and tendency to be creative in his crafts of choice, he shouldn’t have been surprised when Etho asked, “Can you teach me?” 

“Teach you?” Joel prompted, raising an eyebrow. “Teach you what? To sculpt? To be as hot and sexy as me?” 

Etho snorted in amusement, tail swaying idly behind him, though all he said aloud was “Yes.” 

“To be hot and sexy? That’s not a teachable skill, unfortunately, for you would have come to the right place. Luckily for you, you already do fine– just not as good as me, of course,” Joel joked lightheartedly before answering what he assumed was Etho’s real question. “If you want to learn to sculpt, on the other hand, you’ll have better luck with a master.” 

Etho mulled over Joel’s response for several heartbeats, so long that Joel hadn’t expected the conversation to continue any further. He had gone back to what he was doing when Etho spoke again, “Are you not a master?” 

Pride bubbled up in his chest as he straightened his posture and wagged his tail, beaming brightly at Etho. “Not officially, no, but I’m flattered you think I’ve mastered the craft already.” 

“Have you not?” Etho glanced at some of Joel’s nearby works that he decided to keep when they were finished, skeptical of Joel’s not-yet-mastary. 

“Ha!” Joel threw his head back in a dog-ish– wolf-ish?– bark. “Hells no.” 

They both filled a hole in the other’s life, one that neither of them fully realized had been empty. Joel found himself enjoying the company, something he’d been missing with his brothers off doing their own things. It didn’t help that Joel tended to isolate himself in his studio, zoned in on his projects and nothing else. Business transactions and small talk had nothing on a genuine friendship. 

Without his brothers there as often, he had no one to watch after or drag him out to do things he claimed he didn’t want to do. Joel hadn’t realized just how lonely he had become until he got a taste, much like a sip of water after unintentionally slipping into dehydration. He just couldn’t get enough.

Now, It had been a little over a year since Etho had entered his life, and Joel was eternally grateful for it. His lonesome flat had become more lively with Etho’s things added among Joel’s and sketches Etho had gifted Joel pinned up in a gallery to decorate the walls. It was perfect, their relationship was perfect, but their understanding of their status was… admittedly embarrassing, to say the least.

“What do you mean he’s not your boyfriend?” Grian exclaimed a little too loudly, flabbergasted.

“Quiet!” Joel growled under his breath, rough and rumbley as a byproduct of his wolf genetics.  “I don’t need the entirety of Woodland Forests in my business!”

“Fine!” Grian huffed back, mildly irritated at the correction, but not enough to refuse submitting to Joel’s request. He repeated himself, this time at a lower sound level. “What do you mean he’s not your boyfriend? Haven’t you two been dating this whole time?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy agreed with Grian, seemingly astounded by this news, “I thought you had found your soulmate and started dating him, and just didn’t want to tell us directly yet for some reason–”

Joel pursed his lips, ears flattening back against his head. He didn’t want to admit anything, but with his brothers looking at him so expectantly, and, well… there wasn’t much they could hide from each other for long. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“It?” Grian parroted, the word pitching up an octave with his disbelief. “It? Joel, I can’t believe you–”

“Why not?” Jimmy cut in before Grian could say more, face all contorted and bewildered. “Don’t you like him?” “Of course I like him!” Joel snapped, face growing red with embarrassment and shame. He groaned, leaning forward as he tangled his fingers in his hair. The tug on his scalp was just enough stimulation to distract his mind from blowing a fuse and doing something he’d regret. 

“Then what’s the problem?” Grian questioned, not granting Joel any empathy. “You like him, you’re soulmates, you’ve been functionally dating for months now– what’s the issue? Honestly, where is it, ‘cause I don’t see one.”

“It’s not that simple!” Joel claimed with a desperate wail, tugging harsher on his scalp. Jimmy shifted closer to Joel, taking a more sympathetic approach. He wrapped his arm around his shoulder and rested his wing against the back of his torso, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet. “You of all people should understand, Grian, with Scar, and with–”

“Yes, and I’d be the first to admit that I was an idiot in my youth,” Grian deadpanned, before sighing. “Joel, I would have saved a lot of heartache if I just was transparent with Scar years ago. I am passing on that advice I had to learn the hard way for you and your soulmate–”

“I don’t even know if Etho is my soulmate…” Joel murmured defeatedly, hands dropping from his unstyled hair to his lap. He curled his tail close to his body, so tightly that the end of the wolf’s tail was close enough for Joel to fidget with the end of it. “Not for sure, anyway. I mean, I have a hunch, but how can I really be sure when–”  “But you want it to be true, don’t you?” Jimmy spoke up, far more caring than Joel deserved. Joel was supposed to be the responsible, mature caregiver of the trio. He wasn’t supposed to be the one needing help. That wasn’t a job for the youngest nor the middle child, yet here they were… 

“Of course I do,” Joel’s voice cracked as he squeezed his eyes shut, tears trickling down his cheeks. “How could I not? I mean, I love– like him! Stars, how could I not like him? I wish I knew, for this… infatuation is such a problem.”

“I can’t believe you just called what you and Etho have an in-fat-u-a-tion,” Grian drawled out that last word. “You two have been living like a married couple for months! I don’t know how else to tell you that that is not ‘infatuation’, mate.”

“Even if it was, how is that a problem?” Jimmy leaned his head against Joel’s shoulder, arm still wrapped around him as he idly twirled and curled Joel’s hair around his fingers. “Does he not like you back like that? Or do you mean to say he’s not a romantic soulmate? A platonic one, perhaps? I have a friend like that, you know, and there’s nothing wrong with it, they’re happy–”

“Our relationship is anything but platonic,” Joel corrected, smiling weakly at the thought of what they had being anything else, as if it were amusing or something to entertain themselves with. No one looked at only a friend like Joel and Etho looked at each other. Joel’s smile fell and he bit the inside of his lip with his canine teeth. “I just… I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Grian took a deep breath, presumingly to calm himself down before he allowed his annoyance at Joel’s dumbassary to influence his comments anymore. “The only way you’re going to fuck it up is if you don’t do anything about it.”

Jimmy nodded briefly in agreement. “At the end of the day, it’s better to know than to live in this limbo of inbetween.”

Joel didn’t respond right away as he mulled over their words. He sniffed as he dried his eyes with his sleeve. “When did you two grow up and get so wise?”

Grian and Jimmy didn’t respond with any sort of actual answer, instead mwah-ing kisses all around him in between cooing playful sentiments at him. Joel swatted them away lightheartedly, not using most of his strength so he didn’t accidently hurt them. “Oh, enough you two! Fuck off!”

His brothers only giggled in response, and Joel couldn’t help but join the chorus. 

They were right though. He had to do something about it. If he didn’t, he feared he might burst.

That was a bit of an over exaggeration, but he’s always been good at those.

Joel had gotten his wish to show Etho the stars properly fulfilled multiple times before, stargazing even becoming one of their favorite pastimes. Etho had built a reputation for himself, meaning he got rather busy, and Joel still maintained his business, but they tried to find time to stargaze at least once a week, even if it was from the comfort of their flat. 

It didn’t matter to Joel if they went out to lay in the grassy outdoors or if they chose to observe the constellations through the lens of their flat’s skylight. As long as they got to have that time, he was content. Honestly, as long as Etho acknowledged Joel’s existence, he was over the moon.

…maybe he had fallen for the arctic fox hybrid a bit harder than he first guessed.

Huh. Anyway– 

Now Joel’s never done yoga or anything, but he was fairly confident that their stargazing had that same sort of meditative effect. Ever since Etho and Joel decided to make stargazing a regular event, Joel’s found himself less quick to anger or prone to explode. The urges and impulses were still there, of course, but they had… dulled. They’d become more manageable. 

Joel couldn’t recall the last time he’s gotten in a tiff with a merchant or pissed off the guards enough to spend the night in a cell. Maybe his brothers had been right this whole time. Maybe having something– someone worth coming home to actually did help. Joel had always been too full of himself– too arrogant– to actually ever take their advice.

Speaking of his brothers’ advice…

“Etho?” Joel broke the silence cautiously, though he didn’t yet lift his head from Etho’s shoulder.

They two laid under the skylight staring at the stars with pillows supporting their heads and a large blanket draped over them to share. Etho laid flat on his back with his arm under Joel as Joel sandwiched his right arm between them and rested his left arm on Etho’s chest, hand over his sternum.

Etho didn’t respond at first, making Joel worry he had fallen asleep just as he had gathered his nerve, but those anxieties dissolved once Joel shifted just enough to see Etho’s face only to find it flushed pale pink. The pale pink always looked so lovely against the snow-white of Etho’s hair and fur, and Joel found pleasure in eliciting a blush from him. “Whatcha looking at?”

“You.” The word flowed from Etho’s lips so smoothly that Joel had half the will to deny its genuinity. 

Joel’s own blush killed any notion of doing so, however. “Okay, sure, yeah. Whatever you say, Etho.”

Etho’s breathing hitched, followed by what Joel could��almost swear was an “Oh, snap–”  

What a blummin’ dork, Joel couldn’t help but think, huffing a laugh. “You okay there?”

“Yeah,” Etho whispered airily out as he turned his head to bury his face against the base of Joel’s hair, his fingers absentmindedly messing with the ending strands. “Yep, yep, everything’s okay here.”

Joel kept his hair well-maintained, a requirement for being allowed long hair as a child, and he has simply kept it up into adulthood. Fidgeting with it became a staple for not only himself, but his brothers, and apparently anyone else who managed to get close enough, proved by Etho.

Their unplanned detour led to Joel momentarily forgetting the intentions he had for tonight so, instead of using the silence as an opportunity to bring it up again, he stayed quiet, simply enjoying Etho’s presence. 

For better or for worse, Etho pressed a close lip kiss against the top of his head before speaking again, “I’m always a sucker for how you say my name, no matter how many times you do it. Actually, I’m just a sucker for you in general, to be honest.”

Joel detached himself from Etho’s torso, sitting up and looking down at the fox hybrid, ignoring the way Etho made his heart flutter like nothing else. The sensation only became more intense with their soulbound. Was he making Etho feel the same way?

Etho rose to sit up alongside him, a glimpse of fear on his features. Joel resisted a frown, instead deciding to tease his soulmate– his soulmate!– by leaning into the “Eefo” pronunciation that came with his native Woodland Forests accent. 

“What a cheesy romantic you are, Etho,” Joel jested with faux and playful disgust. Ugh, when had he become such a sap for this man?

“Could you blame me?” Etho didn’t wait for an answer, cupping Joel’s face gingerly. Joel melted into Etho’s hold, letting his eyes flutter close. He placed his own hand over the one cupping his face, partly to help support the weight of his head and partly to nonverbally convince Etho to not let go. 

As this happened, Joel did his best to ignore the way his tail involuntarily wagged like an excitable dog, thumping against the blankets with a dulled thump, thump, thump. As bad as that was, he worked even harder to get his brothers’ childhood teases about him really being part dog further away. Joel didn’t need their comments in their head right now, as deserved as they may be.

Stars above, how had he managed to delude himself of Etho’s feelings when he acted like this? 

“Can you blame me,” Etho asked again, “for being sappy when I have you as a soulmate?”

Joel’s eyes flew open as his body went all tense and rigid, hand falling to his side. “You knew?”

“I’ve had a hunch for awhile,” Etho admitted, scratching the back of his neck and not looking Joel in the eyes, “but I wasn’t sure, because you never said anything, but, uh, yeah.”

Laughter bubbled in his chest and spilled out of him, less out of joy and more out of shock. Joel’s unexpected laughter must have caught Etho off guard for he hesitantly checked in with, “Your reaction confirms that we are, right? And that you’re… good with it, and want me too– want me like I want you– and–?”

“Yes!” Joel tried to contain himself, but he wasn’t very successful. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. “Yes, of course, you beautiful, blummin’ idiot.”

“I– You really have a way with words, don’t you?” Etho replied sarcastically, though no negativity could be detected among the sarcasm. “I’m, like– I’m getting mixed signals here, Joel.”

Joel rolled his eyes affectionately, throwing his leg over Etho’s legs so he could practically sit on his lap facing towards his soulmate. Joel tugged on the collar of Etho’s top until they were close enough for their lips to brush and for Joel to feel Etho’s breath on his face. He didn’t try to contain his tail this time, and Etho didn’t appear to either. 

“You talk too much.” Not true in the slightest, especially with Joel being the more talkative one out of the pair, but logic and rationale weren’t exactly on his mind at the moment. “You should do something about that.”

Etho pulled Joel flush against him, using the fat just above Joel’s hip bone to secure his grip. His lips parted briefly, as if he were going to respond with some sort of witty retort. Before he could get anything out, Joel traced his tongue against the ridges of his sharp canines, effectively attracting Etho’s attention. His soulmate’s pupils dilated, their mutual desire only amplified by their soulbound.

Their lips collided like two forces of nature fighting to consume the other. They devoured each other, intoxicated with each give and take, getting lost in their venture for pleasure and bliss. The ever present want refused to die down now that it was given what it had yearned for for so long. Joel knew it would be difficult to stop once they started, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

It was difficult for Joel to differentiate where he started and Etho began, especially with the building sensations they traded back and forth. Joel understood his brothers actions and mindset in accordance to their soulmates a whole lot better now, a realization that brought a strange sense of enlightenment. 

Euphoria pulsed through his veins, and he never wanted to stop. Not when he’s wanted so long, not when they have needed each other for so long…

Neither he nor Etho knew what the future held for them, but something told Joel that, as long as they had each other, they were more than ready to take on the challenge. Joel wanted nothing more than to see where life would continue to take them. Etho was worth it and more, after all, but don’t tell him Joel said that. He would tell Etho himself in due time, but the proper words could come later. For now, though, Joel enjoyed what they shared, and he knew Etho felt the same, and that was more than enough for him.

If you got this far, please like and reblog, and maybe even kudos and comment over on AO3! Thank you kindly, I appreciated it <33

[joelchaimholtzman]

Happy to share this collection of portraits I was commissioned to paint back in the day for the Dark Ages boardgame.

I remember heavily studying statues in public squares throughout Europe. My goal was to capture the gesture, expression, perspective and shape language the sculptor tried to convey, and apply them to the assignment.

Attached 4 portraits are my favourites amongst the 10 I was commissioned to paint.

Hope you like them!

All the best,

Joel

[watcheraurora]

A Life UnRemembered

Author's Note: Hermitcraft is... unique 1.7k words

Based on all the art of character!Joel not seeming to know why he built a shrine to the Ocean Queen. It's all gorgeous

—

Joel wandered his base. He liked how it was coming along. He enjoyed the resource gathering and the building. He enjoyed spending time with the Hermits. They were all so comfortable with each other that he couldn't help but feel welcome even though he was new.

But there was something needling at him. Something he couldn't quite remember.

He strolled down the stairs to the temple he'd built. The empty dais in the center where something should be enshrined. Pulling some clay out of his inventory, he slapped it down onto the dais and started to sculpt. It had been a long time since he sculpted anything.

He turned his brain off and let his hands just go where they wanted. Somewhere else in the world, Cleo would be proud of him. As the other major small-scale sculptor, they knew how much work it took to make statues this small, rather than huge with blocks. That was the easy way. Small amounts of clay around an armor stand were much harder and more fiddly.

Hours passed while he tugged at that needling feeling that he'd forgotten something. Trying to free it from where it was buried.

Nothing. He couldn't remember what it was he'd forgotten.

Two hours after beginning, he leaned back from his sculpture, stretching his back. Clay was caked under his fingernails.

Before him, he'd made a statue not quite to the scale he felt it should be, but he hadn't brought enough clay.

The statue was a woman. Tall. Lithe. Powerful. She had the regal bearing of a queen in some coastal kingdom far away from his cherry tree mountain. A trident slung casually in the crook of one elbow. A circlet resting above her brow that he'd jammed a diamond into the clay for effect while sculpting. The circlet had coral branches twining off at the woman's temples. She had long, flowing hair. He needed to paint the sculpture, but he already knew her hair would be pink. Her eyes and skin would be blue. The flowing gown a soft... lavender, maybe? Lilac?

A long axolotl tail extended from the base of her spine and up into the air, coral fanning off its ends.

And held gently in her arms, a much smaller man. Joel knew he'd paint the man's shirt purple. The crown in his hair gold with an emerald embedded just above his forehead. The sash green.

Why he knew those colors as easily as he knew his own hands, he wasn't sure.

Before he could lose the inspiration, he flew to the shopping district, landing hard at Pearl's dye shop. He scrambled to get his diamonds out of his Ender chest and bought every color he'd need. Dye wasn't exactly paint, but if he mixed it with a few other ingredients, he could make it work.

His Elytra's membrane snapped in the wind with the speed of his flight. He ran into his landing in the little hut he'd started his base in, scrounged up the last of the materials he'd need from his unbelievably disorganized chests—not his fault someone had come and messed with them—and soared back down to the shrine.

He painted quickly. Faster than he sculpted and certainly faster than he built.

When he finally stepped back, he was covered in paint and there was dried clay all over him. Creative projects were always messy with him.

He was breathing a little hard in the heat of the mid-afternoon, hair clumped on his forehead with sweat.

"There you are," he breathed, a tiny smile touching the corners of his mouth. He set his paints and brushes down.

The woman had come to life, in the clay and the color. Her deep blue eyes glittered. The gills on her neck looked delicate, despite being made of clay. The coral fans on the end of her tail were vibrant pink, her hair pastel. Her face shone with love and kindness, yet the fierceness of a true warrior of unknown power.

"Who are you? Why don't you leave my mind? Why don't you leave me?"

Because the smaller man in her arms, with his royal purple doublet and green sash—

He'd sculpted and painted himself.

The green in his hair that refused to dye out, only just starting to maybe grow in pink with this new world he found himself on, if he looked hard in the mirror (though he admitted that could have been an irritated scalp from him pulling so hard to try and dye it). The shape of his nose and his face. He'd sculpted himself without meaning to or trying.

Why the crown? Why the sash?

"Who was I then? Who were you to me?" he asked the statue.

The woman didn't respond.

Joel knelt before the statue on one knee. Even that felt oddly familiar. Like he'd taken a knee before this woman before. Maybe more than once.

"No..." He looked down at his hand. At the ring that remained on his finger no matter how many times he respawned or the situation that caused him to respawn. Simple and strong. If he took it off to build and then fell, the ring would be there when he came back. Always.

Tango had hypothesized it was a wedding ring. He had one himself. Tango had lived in Hermitcraft for a lot longer than a good portion of its other members. Since the second incarnation of the world. He hadn't always had his ring—gold and solid with a flaming red ruby and pale sky blue sapphire nestled against one another. It had appeared only a few years ago in the middle of a season after a jaunt off-world. Around the same time Joel and Etho met, though the memories were blurry. But since Tango had been on Hermitcraft for so long, he had lots of hypotheses. The world was isolated from the greater multiverse. Even the creative version of each Hermitcraft incarnation ran so closely parallel to the real world, its effects were the same.

But Tango had spent a late night telling Joel about his ideas of the multiverse while everyone else slept—the two of them awake to build a redstone machine and finish a building respectively. Each of them could create their own worlds elsewhere. And Hermitcraft's effects would no longer apply to them out there. But they all struggled to remember anything beyond Hermitcraft when they came back.

Tango thought they both might have a spouse. Somewhere out there on another world. Waiting for them. Spouses that the barrier between Hermitcraft and the rest of the universe didn't let them remember.

Could she be...?

Joel looked up at the statue.

The woman had webbed hands. She couldn't wear a ring.

"Are you my wife?" he asked. "Were you my wife? In another life? Or are you still? Somewhere out in the multiverse?"

The statue continued to be silent, looking down on the tiny version of himself with a face full of love and care. But the still-wet paint made those deep blue eyes glitter. Almost bittersweet.

Joel reached up, as though to cradle her face. To reassure her that It's alright, love. It won't be forever. I'll always come back to—

He couldn't reach her face. He'd made her too tall on the dais for him to reach without his scaffolding—that he'd already torn down.

He pulled out his communicator.

/w PearlescentMoon: Want to come see what I did? I think you'll like it

He didn't expect her response to arrive so fast.

<PearlescentMoon> whispers to you: Sure! OMW!

He only waited for a few minutes before he heard the snapping of Elytra membrane and Pearl ran to a stop on the flat area before his stairs. "Joel? Where are ya, mate?"

"In the temple!" Joel called back.

Pearl appeared at the entrance after a moment. "Hey!" she greeted, taming her long hair after her flight.

"Hi," Joel replied. He gestured to the statue. "I'm not as much an artist as you are, but I tried."

Pearl approached it curiously. "Oh my... mate, this is incredible. It's beautiful."

"Thanks," he said.

"How'd you pick the Ocean Queen?"

"The what?"

"Well that's who she is, isn't she? The Ocean Queen? Demigoddess of unlimited power over the sea?"

"I have no idea who... what?"

"Oh. Did you just come up with it, then?"

"I just let my instincts guide me through it."

"Hm. Maybe she's calling to you, mate. From beyond the stars." Pearl looked toward the setting sun, hidden as it was through the temple's structure.

"Maybe." Joel was less than convinced. "Tell me the story?"

"It's an old legend. From... I dunno, thousand years ago? Surprised you've never heard of it." Pearl leaned against the entryway frame, folding her arms. "Does the Cod King ring any bells?"

"Distantly?"

"That's the Ocean Queen's baby brother. She watched over his egg before he hatched after their mother died..."

—

"Lizzie?" Joel called, pushing open the door to Lizzie's base on SOS. "I'm home!"

Thundering footsteps met his ears. Lizzie appeared, the last of her armor falling off of her, a few bits of sculk caught on its edges. "About time!" she exclaimed, rushing across her kitchen and throwing her arms around him. "How's Hermitcraft been?"

"Fun," Joel said. He didn't have much to say beyond that. His memories of Hermitcraft were... hazy. At best. He remembered emotions. Some jokes. Lots of laughs. The vague shenanigan here or there. But nothing detailed. "I've really missed you." He held onto her tight, burying his nose in her hair. It smelled vaguely like sea salt and coconut. The cool metal of her wedding ring rested against the skin of his neck where her fingers threaded into his hair.

"I'm glad you're here. How long are you staying?"

"As long as I can. We knew when I accepted the invitation that it would be hard for me to travel more. But this was an opportunity too good to miss."

"I know. And I'm proud of you. But I miss you."

"I miss you too." He kissed the side of her head. "I'll stay for at least a month."

"Good."

[birddcandle]

Empires ZombieCleo!! ClayCleo? Clayeo? Yeah sure

Once again for @shepscapades ‘s Hermitcraft Character Design Event!! Some notes about the design and idea in general under the cut :0

I thought that Cleo would fit the Mezalean Empire very well since it is pretty much canon that Joel made all of his citizens through armour stands or clay, so I figured Cleo could be an armour stand maker/clay sculptor!!

There are also two versions of their design based on two ideas:

Cleo’s regular zombie skin is where she travels to Mezalea by request of the Mezalean King (and maybe some recommendation from a certain blue-haired man), and they are able to use their skills to help create new citizens for Joel

Cleo’s secondary design comes from an idea I had where they are one of the first citizens of Mezalea created by Joel, but since they were one of the first, she is sculpted from various colours found and created from the clay in the mesa

It is also possible that she was sculpted from one colour but they kept cracking, so she or Joel repaired her using different colours they had on hand

They also have green eyes for their regular zombie skin because that is just. Her regular skin, but she has brown eyes for her clay version since she was sculpted by Joel and in his image!! Every citizen sculpted by Joel has brown eyes and probably looks a whole lot like Joel lol

[artparks-sculpture]

A sculpture titled 'Swallow Flight Together Milestone (Swooping Lifelike statue)' by sculptor JOEL Walker. In a medium of Bronze on Cumberland slate.

[tiger-tail]

Sculptor Joel and Muse Jimmy Smallidarity

The Muse was beautiful. That was the entire reason that the Sculptor would stare at him for hours on end recreating his beauty, to picture perfection. That was the entire reason the Muse would sit still for hours on end. Because he knew his worth. He knew how beautiful he was, and so did the Sculptor. Jimmy knew he was more beautiful than the marble statues recreated in his picture.

He couldn't help but wonder, though. Had anyone ever praised the Sculptor? Surely after spending days and days, sometimes months on something so beautiful that he deserves to know his worth.

He spent hours on little details, biting down on his lip with a furrowed brow, a brush behind his ear. He would carve marble with such precision you could tell he had many years of experience, and had learned from those who would sculpt the gods. He could create the folds in fabric and make them look perfect. You could tell that he put his entire life into this art, to preserve the Muse's beauty.

Jimmy frowned. Who would preserve the Sculptors beauty? Surely if he put this much into his life preserving the beauty of someone like the Muse then he would only deserve the same. It felt kind of unfair that the only thing keeping Jimmy alive after he died was how pretty he was.

The Sculptor was beautiful too. He was just as beautiful as the Muse. He had a beard that well framed his face and showed his age. He had beautiful dark eyelashes that make his eyes more bold, that make his eyes look like the brightest trees you've seen. His nose is large and has a bump to it. An Italian nose, Jimmy suspected. His face was very round, but not young. His hair was fluffy and stuck out messily in the back and on the sides, but had been well kept for the most part.

His skin had blackheads and blemishes and bumps of all sorts, calloused, scarred, and cut. It only made him more unique, more beautiful. Jimmy wanted his beauty to be preserved just as much as the Muse had already been preserved.

Unfortunately Jimmy was just the Muse. The Muse was the one who was painted and sculpted, not the Sculptor.

While the Sculptor sculpted him, Jimmy would stare at him and his beauty. Not that the Sculptor minded of course. Jimmy would stare and paint his beauty in his mind, and Joel would stare and paint his beauty in person.

[psychedelic-ink]

from archives 💾 // wip game

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP list, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send 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.

thank you @toomanystoriessolittletime, @sweetenerobert, @nothoughtsjustmeds, @missredherring, @saradika for the tag 💗💗💗

sarah - stay in bed chapter 13

let me follow - joel miller x reader was a part of david's group, multichapter, angst, no smut

the book shelter - javi p x reader, series

hush hush - husband's brother!dave york x f!reader, series, dark

cubitum eamus - sculptor!joel miller x witch!reader, series

what the hell - biker!dieter bravo x reader

dieter in the mom outfit from the snl sketch

npt: @inklore @pedrito-friskito @fuckyeahdindjarin @undercoverpena @softlyspector @frannyzooey @swiftispunk @jupiter-soups @redahlia-writes

[jules-has-notes]

Batman: Whatever It Takes (Unexpected Musical) — PattyCake Productions music video

It's often been observed that the masked vigilantes in comic books and the supervillains they fight have some things in common. One of those qualities is the will to go above and beyond what the average person would do, for good or ill. So when the PattyCake guys decided to dip their toes in the superhero pool, there was no better place to start than Tim Burton's version of Batman and some of his most notorious rogues.

Details:

title: Unexpected Musicals — Batman: Whatever It Takes

performers: Jason Tibbs (Batman), T. Robert Pigott (The Joker / featured vocals), James Keaton (The Penguin / featured vocals), Leah Lowman (Catwoman), Navid Nowakhtar (Tom Andrews); Hannah Juliano, Tony Wakim, & Layne Stein (featured vocals)

original songs / performers: "Batman Theme" & "Batman Suite" from Batman (1989) & Batman Returns (1992); "Whatever It Takes" by Imagine Dragons

written by: "Batman Theme" and "Batman Suite" by Danny Elfman; "Whatever It Takes" by Dan Reynolds, Wayne Sermon, Ben McKee, Daniel Platzman, & Joel Little

arranged by: Layne Stein & Tony Wakim

release date: 11 May 2018

My favorite bits:

the series title logo becoming dark and tarnished like the WB logo in the original 1989 film

that poor reporter reading his news copy like it's just a normal day (which, yeah, Gotham)

turning the barely-sung verses into actual spoken rap

Catwoman entering on ♫ "whip whip" ♫ while brandishing one

using a slowed down version of Elfman's orchestral theme under the chorus

Robby's fantasticly wheezy Joker laugh

giving ♫ "I'm the prodigal son" ♫ to the orphaned Penguin

Jason conveying Batman's growing frustration with only small movements

that smooth riff in the final chorus

Trivia:

○ All of these actors have appeared in previous "Unexpected Musicals" videos.

Jason was the prince in "Snow Spears", and one of the Mary Poppins chimney sweeps in "The Disney Showman".

Robby played Captain Hook in "Look What You Made Me Brew".

James was the elder Walt in "The Disney Showman".

Leah has inhabited several roles across the series, from Cinderella to Maleficent.

Navid was part of the crowds in both "Hocus Heathens" and "Beauty and the Bieber".

○ Jason's costume was created by The Batsmith, an Australian sculptor and costume maker who specializes in replicas of pieces from live-action Batman movies.

○ The incredible Joker and Penguin prosthetics were created by Andy Wright & Dana Bracewell at Makeup & Creative Arts, and applied on the day by Rick Underwood. The pieces were then added to their Morphstore product line.

○ In order to build anticipation, PattyCake posted a series of countdown teaser images to their social media in the days leading up to the video's release.

○ Layne posted behind the scenes videos of James during both filming and editing on his Instagram.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Layne Stein (@laynestein)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Layne Stein (@laynestein)

○ Robby enjoyed playing the Joker so much that he had some custom playing cards made using his photograph and gave them to the PattyCake crew.

○ This video is part of a loose pair celebrating DC and Marvel comic book movies with tracks from the latest Imagine Dragons album at the time. Its companion piece, "Avengers: Thunder", was released a few weeks later.

[empires-institute]

Nicknames Guide

Season 1

Scott-Hart

FWhip-Gizmo

Gem- Wiz

Joey- Jungle

Xornoth- will stab you if you try to nickname him.

Kathrine-Flutter

Lizzie-Shell

Sausage- Secret

Pearl- Allium

Pix- Shiner

Shubble-Morel

Joel-Sculptor

Jimmy- Cod

Season 2

Scott-Rainbow

FWhip-Gremlin

Gem-Butterfly

Joey-Captain

Kathrine-Glimmer

Lizzie-Soft Paws

Sausage-Haven

False-Cogs

Pix-Scroll

Shubble-Katniss

Joel-Tempest

Jimmy-Sheriff

Oli-Tune