#soulbound familiar

[chilumi-shipper]

Soulbound

Zhongli x GN!Reader (Soulmate!AU)

Summary: Zhongli hated the mark on his neck, and he hated whoever the mark bounded him to. But fate plays a cruel joke, matching him with you, as he swore he would love no one else but Guizhong.

Tags: Angst/No Comfort, Short Story, Rejection, Hurtful Words, Hatred to Love

Soulmark - A mark that binds two individuals as soulmates.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Morax had always been frustrated by the mark on his neck.

A glowing, permanent part of his body that marks him tied to a soulmate. He thinks its stupid, for the love of his life was already in front of him, a gray-haired inventor that no carving in his body could ever stop him from adoring.

He finds it unbelievable that his neck is claimed by a soulmark yet Guizhong's remain blank, and he curses Celestia above for such a foul joke.

How could he be for anyone else but her?

When her dust settled in the field of glaze lilies he thought were incomparable to her beauty, he was utterly devasted, his clawed hands held onto his neck, wanting to rip the soulmark that had been taunting him for centuries.

How could he be marked for someone else while the love of his life laid lifeless?

He loathed his mark, everything about it, and he will till his last breath.

...

Zhongli deeply dislikes you.

You are a messy, silly, babbling buffoon.

An adventurer from Mondstadt that embodies the nation's will of freedom. Bubbly, carefree, and loud, much like a fellow god he didn't particularly like.

Despite of his disdain of you, your affection towards him never wavered. You filled his somber days with excitement as you joyfully tell him stories about your adventures, share some new recipes you've learned, even ushering him to talk about obscure Liyue historical facts that you've always found interesting.

He was much too proper to shoo you away, and his cold looks and short responses didn't discourage you to try to make friends with the man that peeked your curiosity.

Ever so slowly, you had pried open his caged heart, planting a small seed that was so distinctly you.

He would have accepted you, he would have seen you as a friend... and yet...

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a faint, familiar mark on your neck, revealed when you put your hair up into a ponytail.

Zhongli knew he truly disliked you.

...

"I don't believe in the marks either, Mr. Zhongli..." You reasoned with him, but his gaze still stung you with daggers.

He caged himself back up, ensuring that you could not care for the little seed you planted, no light would be able to reach it again.

His heart would not open...

No matter how many times he catches himself smiling at your antics.

No matter if he displays every gift and trinket you give him from your travels.

No matter how much he preferred your cooking over anyone else's.

No matter how beautiful you look staring up at him with your doe eyes as you confess your affection.

No matter how frustrated he felt at himself when he made you cry as he rejects your feelings.

Because, for him, how could there be anyone else but her?

...

"Do you see why it could never be you?"

You both stood in front of a monument, surrounded by various plants and objects you assume to be from friends of this ancient goddess.

"I bet she was amazing."

"She was perfect. Perhaps that's why I was not worthy to share a mark with her."

At this point, you were used to his words, how they praise her, how they degrade you.

"You're pretty great too, Zhongli..."

Faith places identical marks on the necks of two soulmates, and the rest is a romantic story of the passion that builds up as people pursue their marks of love.

Fate is cruel to you and him.

"That mark is not for you, Y/N." The Geo Archon says to you, tearing you apart silently, as you stand and take his words.

His heart quivers despite the harsh words coming from his own mouth. Even after millennia of having the mark engraved on his neck, after concluding that maybe he would allow your little seed to prosper even just for a bit, he still chooses to cling onto his hopeless past.

Tears fall down from your eyes, but you remain quiet, only nodding in agreement.

You loathed the mark on your neck.

...

Zhongli opens the cage of his heart a little, allowing him to peak at the small sprout from the seed you planted.

So distinctly you, it was the only thing he has of you.

After letting you leave him at Guizhong's monument with tears still staining your face, he couldn't help but miss you.

He couldn't help but let you finally take your place in his heart, after so long of hating his soulmark, hating whoever the mark tied him to, he fears he has finally accepted faith.

...

"Where is it?" He grips your arm harshly, his hold not faltering as you try to shake him off. His gaze was cold, yet you could still catch the hint of alarm in his eyes. "What have you done?"

After weeks... you return to him... missing something.

You winced at the stress of his words, feeling frightened under his tense hold. "I..." His bruising grip didn't falter, urging you to explain yourself. "S-Surprise...?"

"You..." Zhongli looks at you in disbelief. "How stupid could you be?"

"M-Mr. Zhongli... it's a blessing of the Anemo Archon... I prayed for him set us free from fate."

"Y/N... I..." He was at a loss for words, his heart ached as his eyes searched your neck in vain. "Fate... going against it is painful. It must've been excruciating."

"It was... but this if for you, Zhongli..." You smiled, feeling him loosen his grip. "Because I love... loved you." You fully free yourself from him, rubbing at where he previously held you.

The wind around him picked up, and he hears the faint whispers of an old friend along with it. Whispers of comfort, as he clearly ruined what would have been the light of the rest of his days.

Your soulmark fades, but his remains...

Zhongli loathed his mark, for it bears no meaning, no one but him bears that mark.

As you leave, trying to fade away in the background of his life, you remain under a spotlight in his eyes, for you will always be the one that shares his mark, no matter if it is visible.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

What y'all think of this one? :3

I bet y'all's feelings were hurt hehe

[little-diable]

Bound in Eternity - Halbrand/Sauron (smut)

This obsession isn't fading, but I ain't sorry, y'all will have to endure this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Once wed, once forced apart by Adar's betrayal, and now their paths cross again - all while he is fighting side by side with an elf that looks at him as if they are soulbound.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, public, jealousy, choking, possessiveness, some degrading

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x fem!reader (2.3k words)

At first it felt as if she was dreaming. A restless dream that would haunt her for centuries to come. A darkening dream that would force her to doubt everything she had clung to ever since their paths had been forced to part. Centuries that have turned into a cloud of confusing smoke, too thick for her to see through it.

But the tip of the sword felt too cold, too sharp to be a mere imagination of her racing mind. This wasn’t a dream, this was all but a dream, reality had caught up with her, drawing her towards the battle where she could feel him close.

Him. The one she had been bound to ever since she could remember. Him. The one who had always held her heart in his hands, careful not to crush it even as darkness had begun to poison every vein, every inch of his frame. Him. The one she had longed to feel close again ever since Adar’s betrayal.

Hope was flickering in her eyes, she had changed her frame just like he had, finding a new body to house her soul for the time being. A frame he seemed to find himself confused by, not reacting to the way her soul tried to reach for his, desperate to let their powers intertwine once again. But something seemed to hold him back, something that left a bitter aftertaste on (y/n)’s tongue while studying the unreadable expression tugging on his new handsome features.

“Who is she to you?” His eyes flickered from hers to Adar’s, the one she didn’t dare to look at, knowing that she’d fight against every sword for the mere chance to kill him. She’d burn Middle Earth to the ground for a chance to pierce her sword through his skin, robbing him of his life just like he had tried to rob the life of her lover.

“I don’t know her.” She couldn’t stop a huff from leaving her, forcing her lover’s eyes back to her. (Y/n) was close to murmuring his name, but the presence of the elf held her back, the golden haired warrior who looked at her lover with something making (y/n)’s insides churn in disgust and jealousy. The elf spoke something to him, but she couldn’t listen, not when she tried to make herself familiar with his new appearance, the slightly unruly look that seemed to perfectly fit him.

His eyes found hers again as he sheathed his sword before reaching for her arm to pull her to her feet. A fire spread through her the second he touched her, something he must have felt too judging by the momentary recognition flushing through his eyes. They kept holding eye contact as the elf reached for Adar, binding his arms to drag him with her. A soft smile managed to break out on (y/n)’s lips, she fought against the need to reach for his bearded cheek, to let her skin meet his again like it had last done on that forsaken morning before he had been ripped from her side.

For a second, a darkening grin widened on his lips, a grin that made her breath hitch in her chest. He tightened his grip on her while moving towards his horse, wordlessly helping her into the saddle before placing himself behind her. His arm found its way around her waist, pushing her back against his armoured chest before dipping his head down to let his breath fan over (y/n)’s neck, “I feared you may have forgotten about me, sweetling, but I should have known that our bond will survive even the furthest distances.”

Goosebumps rose on her skin, perfectly matching the heat spreading through her body. She couldn’t reply, not when the elf looked back at them for a moment before leading them down the forest path, but the way she squeezed his hand seemed to be enough for him for now.

…

“Halbrand, what a strange name to choose.”

Her voice had a teasing touch to it, drawing him closer as they stood near the shed the elf had dragged Adar into seconds ago. His eyes burned holes into her skin, leaving a fiery trail as he cupped her cheek, letting his calloused thumb stroke her skin.

“And what should I call you now, sweetling?” His voice dropped lower with every spoken syllable, undoubtedly feeling the same pull in his chest. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel his lips pressed against hers, but something seemed to hold him back, something having to do with that elf (y/n) struggled to look at for longer than a handful of seconds.

“I haven’t chosen a different name yet, Mairon.” The growl leaving him drew a whine out of (y/n), she needed to feel him closer, desperate to taste him again just like she had longed for all those centuries.

“The elf, Galadriel, is a worthy asset in our game, I fear you need to put your trust in me once more.” Confusion pushed through (y/n), forcing her eyebrows to furrow while looking up at him. He let go of her before another word could leave her, forced to look at Galadriel reemerging from the shed.

He left her side to speak to the elf, murmuring words (y/n) couldn’t understand. Anger began to simmer inside of her, anger directed at her lover who hadn’t even kissed her yet after all those years apart, at the elf who seemed to pull him into her trap all too easily, at herself for falling for his game yet again. But no matter how much she wanted to rip herself free, she couldn’t leave his side again - not after only being reunited moments ago.

“Speak, what’s your name?” Galadriel had her eyes directed on (y/n), waiting for her to find her words again as she fought against the lump in her throat. For a second, she let her gaze find his, hoping to find something swimming in his pupils to direct her path, but he didn’t give her anything. Nothing but the grin she had once found herself obsessing over.

“(Y/n),” it was a simple reply, a reply that left him tensing while the elf only nodded her head. It had been centuries since he had last heard her name being spoken out loud - only he had allowed himself to call it out loud when lust overcame him, the simple pleasure mankind seemed to ache for as if it was the air they needed to breathe. But his longings for her had always been stronger than his arrogance, allowing him to let go of any darkening thoughts while fucking his hand to the thought of her.

“Do you know how to wield a sword?” Galadriel’s eyes didn’t leave hers once, a gaze filled with uncertainties and confusions. (Y/n) only nodded her head as she could watch a smirk widen on her lover's lips. Perhaps her return had been just what he needed, another asset in fooling the elf who looked at him as if he had placed every single star on the night sky himself.

“Good, you’ll come with us.” Wordlessly the elf turned away from them, not picking up on the sight of Halbrand and (y/n) grinning at one another with darkness swimming in their pupils. A darkness that forced lust through their veins, a longing both seemed to share as he positioned himself behind her on the saddle once more.

For a second, time seemed to stand still as he whispered to her in the language others feared, the black speech both had shared all those centuries ago. His longing for her was clear, as was hers while she pressed herself back against his chest, unable to bite down a soft whimper as his words kept teasing her. Her whimper turned into a gasp as he suddenly led the horse into a different direction, away from Galadriel who seemed to be oblivious to what was happening.

Trees blurred past them, putting more and more distance between them and the elf. And then the horse came to a sudden halt, almost throwing her off the saddle had it not been for the strong arm he’d wrapped around her waist. Wordlessly he helped her back down, feet meeting the ground before she found herself pressed against the nearest tree.

And then their lips met, finally, after all those years apart. He still tasted the same, of loving and a home others would curse but she had always been aching for. The kiss wasn’t soft nor was it sweet, their teeth clashed, their tongues got tangled while his impatient hands toyed with the lacing of her trousers. Heavy pants left them both, urged on by their longings and the need to unite their bodies once more.

“Tell me, did you let another touch you?” Anger simmered inside of her, a sensation so strong, it allowed her to switch places with him, pushing her lover against the tree while her hands worked on his armour to free his aching cock. He stared down at her, hairs falling into his forehead, eyes growing darker with lust.

“Do you think so little of me, Mairon? I’ve endured centuries without a single touch while all I could long for was your closeness.” A satisfied hum left her lover, eyes momentarily fluttering close as he felt her hands wrapped around him, touching him just like he had touched himself days ago to the thought of her. He felt heavy in her hand, leaving her walls clenching around nothing at the thought of him “But what about you? Did your game ask you to bed the elf? She looks at you as if you’re soulbound.”

A raspy chuckle left him, a sound that only agitated her further. His cold hand found (y/n)’s warm cheek, forcing her to keep looking at him even as he pushed her hand away. Wordlessly he turned them around again, with his hand finding its rest on her throat he kept her held in place, “Perhaps I have, perhaps I’ve fucked her to blindside her, you always knew of the sacrifices we had to make.”

She knew that he was lying, set on pushing her further into her anger to heighten her senses, and yet she couldn’t stop the curses rolling off her tongue, words in the black speech he cut off with his hand adding more pressure to her throat. Her eyes grew wider as she felt his cock near her entrance, coating himself in her slick before he finally pushed into her.

The second he pushed into her she could have sworn she felt the ground shaking, an eruption so strong it buzzed through her body. But the smirk lingering on her lover’s lips was enough to keep her focused on him.

He fucked (y/n) against the tree, hard, fast, set on leaving bruises to make up for all those lost centuries. Barely any air managed to flood through her lungs, just enough to leave her trembling against him while choking on his name, “I’ve almost forgotten how being buried inside of you feels like, no matter which form we take on, we’re always made to fit, sweetling.”

The words were unusually soft, leaving her brows to furrow while she felt the air around them growing heavier. Something was happening in the Southlands, but she didn’t dare give in to any distraction while her lover finally fucked her again, “You’re taking me so well, fuck, I should have known that all those years wouldn’t change your hunger for me, you’ll always be a cock hungry whore for me.”

“Fuck you,” she spat the words against his lips, a mere whisper and yet just enough to make him raise his brows in mock surprise. His thrusts grew rougher, drawing whines out of her as she felt her orgasm creeping closer and closer. He dipped his head down to kiss her throat, letting his beard scratch her skin while his hand let go of her, only to find her pulsing bundle.

“Beg for it.” It was a simple, rasped command, enough to make her see stars while she could taste her release on the tip of her tongue. For a moment, his thrusts grew slower, dragging out the moment as she searched for her voice. “Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked you dumb, you poor thing. Let me hear your voice.”

“Please, Mairon, let me cum.” A sob left (y/n), blurry gaze focused on his features. Darkness seeped out of his every pore, shadows wrapping themselves around the two, all while another hum left him. “I need it, oh fuck, please.”

“Cum with me.” Both fell over the edge at the same time, drawing moans from them while they lost themselves in the intense sensation. It had never felt this strong, this relieving, this perfect. A deadly mixture reminding them both of the power they could wield when their souls were finally connected again.

His forehead fell against hers, lips connected once more before he pulled away. But her hand darted out to cling to his jaw, searching his eyes while finding her trembling voice, “Tell me you’re still mine, tell me she’s nothing but a pawn in your game.”

A raspy chuckle left her lover, he shook his head while intently studying her, “She’s a worthy asset, a pawn to bring us closer to what we’ve been working towards. But she’ll never be you, nobody ever will, sweetling, and it’d do you good to finally remember that.”

(Y/n) pressed another kiss to his lips before both directed their gazes towards the darkening sky, tasting the smoke and ash in the air - something seemingly pushing excitement through his veins, “So it begins.”

[yuri-is-online]

Hi Yuri! Have you ever considered the idea of there being an alternate version of the twst boys in Yuu’s world? Since we have no clue if it’s just another planet or an entirely separate universe, it’s theoretically possible. Poor Yuu would think they are going crazy seeing a familiar face or hearing a familiar voice in another world. Perhaps it is even painful to the point Yuu tries to avoid interacting with the boy in question. - 🦐

(Also, I am well aware of how often I’ve been sharing these thoughts. If they’re annoying you or you don’t feel up to it, I don’t want you to feel pressured to respond or anything. I’m just spitballing and posting before I forget. 👉👈)

OH BOY DO I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ON THIS!!!!! (first and foremost being that you are very much not annoying <3)

An alt version of a twst boy in Yuu's world is just so yummy. There's so much angst potential depending on what the relationship is/was. Did their boy die in some horrible accident? Is he waiting for them, anxious and terrified about where Yuu went? Does this imply that twst also has a version of Yuu somewhere out there in the world? Questions questions. I did sort of write about this idea in the tags of this yan version of the soulbound au, wherein a cursed Yuu driven insane by their curse kills their soulmate before being isekaid to Twisted Wonderland and finding a different version of him, horrified with the realization that they could kill him again... but I want to cook up some dynamics for what the dorm leaders/overblot boys could be up to in Yuu's world first sooo...

I had a hard time thinking about Riddle until I remembered he's a horse girl and cast Yuu in the role of bad boy ranch hand whose dad's got a job at the barn so they're forced to help take care of the horses and warn all the would be YA protags about the "special horse" who doesn't take orders from just anyone. Not that Riddle is the protagonist... he's more the well established rich petty bitch who looks down on the new girls and especially on you because you're never taking care of his horse in accordance with all his stupid rules. And in stereotypical horse movie fashion Riddle has a massive not so secret crush on bad boy ranch hand Yuu who just doesn't get why he keeps trying to talk to them.

There isn't much royalty left in the world, but imagine Leona as the son of some rich business magnate whose older brother got the company and left him with "nothing." Maybe Yuu works at a liquor store part time and Leona comes in to pick stuff up every once in a while. You wouldn't call him a friend, but you guys shoot the shit enough that you have a general feel for each other to the point he joins you on your breaks to keep up the talk and play chess.

I love the idea of student president council Azul. He's made for that trope. Born for it, he'd be such a terror with Jade as his VP and Floyd as well. Floyd. I can't see him really being a part of the student council but I had this idea the other day based off this instagram post I saw about this mom who sews right? Her daughter was running for class president and she made these bracelets with little shrimp on them and attached them to cards that said "Keep it shrimple! Vote for (kid's name)!" And I was struck with this vision of Yuu doing that so like. Yuu running against Azul with that campaign slogan and he's tearing his hair out over it being so popular because people like memes (the original idea had Floyd running as Yuu's vp but they both dropped out at the last minute because neither him or Yuu wanted to do the actual work lol.) I also like student council president Azul and delinquent Yuu... but that's because of Tsuredure Children ha

Kalim and Jamil are hard... but I think the same set up of rich businessman's kid and his bodyguard in training still fits. How Yuu meets them is beyond me, but if you were friends with either of them could you imagine how painful seeing the same tragedy play out in this new world would be? Jamil doomed to always be a servant and Kalim doomed to be betrayed by his best friend... that would be so painful for someone who cared deeply about either of them I could see it motivating Yuu to try and resolve things for twst Jamil and Kalim that much harder.

Ok so hear me out... Vil still wants to be an actor in your world but he doesn't have the connections to his dad and is working as a pharm tech with Yuu at your local drugstore while going to school and hunting for gigs. He mentions being interested in cosmetics and magical pharmacology in game... and he also mentions knowing nothing about his mom so like. Your world Vil ended up with his mom instead of his dad and you get to see him on the cusp of his big break as one of his number one supporters from the very start, only to get isekaid to a world where you get to see what things could have looked like. It's strange how similar and yet not both versions of Vil are...

Idia is the guy who comes in to buy snacks at your convenience store during the night shift who you start talking to when you notice him buying a game time card for something you also play. You're stupid awkward around each other at first, but it's nice to finally have someone to talk about your niche interest with once you've passed each other's sniff tests. You don't actually know him know him though... so getting sent to another world where there's another version of him makes you worried the more you learn about his backstory that maybe you should have been there for your Idia more. Is he doing ok back home? Did he think of you as a friend? You hope he isn't blaming himself for any of this...

Malleus is an old money trust fund baby whose family was absolutely royalty at some point and is still overly attached to it. He likes old buildings, cemeteries, long walks in the fog, you know all those good goth things. He's tall and socially awkward and so grateful for you, his first and best friend who he met one moonlight night he swore was a dream in his favorite abandoned building who spoke at length with him about all sorts of things he liked. So you know. More or less the same. Just without the world ending powers... I think this is another one that would be quite sad. Which version of Malleus needs Yuu more? Which one is the real one? I'd hate the idea of him being destined to always be lonely and lose the ones he loves.

As for Yuu avoiding them... I could see that. It would feel weird seeing someone you love so much only for it not to be them at all. I know that the Lovebrush Chronicles kiiiiind of deals with this??? I wish I had the patience to play through it has an appealing glasses wearing ro but it's a mobile otome :/ but still. It's a concept I promise I am totally normal about.

[regularconvexheadcanons]

During Double Life, Cub knew there was something wrong. Someone was there, someone was tied to them and he could do nothing about it, Scar had vanished again and someone was trying to use him. It wasn't the Vex who did this, they'd go into a rage every time Scar was taken, one of their most valued servants. This was not the work of his own kind, it was something else trying to rewind Scar's nature and chain it to one of theirs. Grian was hungry. Hungrier than he'd ever been before, and nothing was helping. Scar said it wasn't too bad, it got like this every time, it wasn't too bad. it'd be worse next week, and then the week after, until he wished he felt the like he did now. Until the red haze set over and they could feast. If he listened closely, he could hear the screaming. Thousands of voices spewing hatred at the bond and their captors. And amongst that, a single familiar whisper from beyond the veil.

Ohhh yea double life angst, we love it

1: Cub could definitely feel some sense of Grian being bound to Scar. And probably also a bit of that Watcher stuff. The idea of the Watchers trying to diminish Scar's vex power so they could safety soulbound him to Grian without the vex/watcher magic is very cool. And Cub feeling that, knowing something's wrong, knowing the vex are angrier than usual for the start of a Life Series.

I can see Cub confronting Grian after week 2 or 3 when he's absolutely 100% certain that something is up with Scar's magic and Grian needs to stop it.

And Grian probably snaps back at Cub about the Vex. Because while Scar's losing vex magic, Grian's gaining some with the soulbinding. Because Scar's soul IS a vex soul, shared with Cub, and that's what turned him into a vexling. And Grian doesn't like feeling a growing urge to be chaotic or, or the vague sense of whether the vex are happy or, most of the series, furious at him.

After the life series, the double life bonds didn't disappear completely. Some pairs still felt a pull to be with each other (Ranchers, Boat boys), some still felt the vague echoes of eachother's pain.

And Grian and Scar kept some little bit of that corruption from each other's magic. The Watchers were aware of Scar, even more than before, as a threat, eventually leading to him being trapped after Secret Life. Grian still felt that pull towards the vex, including a woodland mansion in Limited Life and living in it, and the choice of a giant, glowing white smile on quiz-bot's face.

Even Cub still kept soulbound to Grian a little. Grian messing around with the sculk led to its interest in Cub as a target, choosing him as the one Shubble sent into the Evermore where he got possessed.

[kaihuntrr]

A bunch of Scott designs I did for warmups <3 using my personal head canons for each one! Explanations for their looks and ‘names’ down below!

Life Series: Scott!

I love all of them so much,, I wanted to keep their outfits and general vibes simple, they’re all pretty but also some practicality in their wardrobes as they are in some type of survival game ehe.

3rd Life: Poppy

Self explanatory name, this version of Scott is the sweetest and the most disconnected from the survival games. He only wanted to live with his husband in their little paradise in forms of flower valleys and endless wheat fields, completely isolated from the war. His outfit is of a gardener, overalls and a sunhat with his and Jimmy’s favorite flower; poppies. He grew out his hair and ties it, not wanting it to be in the way of his work. He is overly protective of his husband, wanting to keep him safe and away from danger for as much as he possibly can. A widow’s rage is something else.

I imagine 3rd Life designs to be more humanoid, so Scott here is an elf! This soul of his moved on to Empires, where he spends the rest of his days with his husband in sweet bliss.

Last Life: Star

Earned the name after being victorious in the game of betrayal. A guiding star to others, he keeps the titular mark on his forehead for the remainder of his time in the Life Series due to being a winner, a reminder of him losing his final life to a lightning bolt. He is the most cunning, using his wits and trust to be a strong ally. He lived in the center of all the chaos with his partner, his best friend Pearl, using little moths to communicate to each other. With sheltered forests and a cottage as their ‘home’, he has deer-like features and antlers to boot. Perhaps this was an attempt to recreate a copy of Poppy, as he has some memories of ‘his’ previous life. He dresses in a neat dress shirt and vest, matching with his best friend and fitting the aesthetic of their pretty house in the woods. Just don’t touch the wall, please.

I wanted to use yellows for this design, as he starts off with two lives! Plus, the contrast looks so good <3 this soul is the host of future life seasons, having full clarity of this life when he goes into future events. Once a series is over, all precious memories will wash over him and the star will hover over his head. This is his ‘real’ form, his ‘winning’ soul.

Double Life: Venus

Named after the brightest ‘star’ next to the moon, he feels isolated. He felt something familiar as he was brought into this life, but he never expected to be connected to Pearl. He shouldn’t blame her, but he doesn’t deal well with being alone. Somehow, he still has a brief memory of Poppy’s as he feels.. something when Jimmy’s soulbound isn’t with him. He loves being with Cleo, his chosen soulmate, and being Pearl’s soulbound meant he could feel her frustration and loneliness. Should he have been there for her? Likely. He couldn’t bare seeing her face again. He couldn’t bare losing her again. Not again. Maybe it was better this way, they’re both hurting. He hopes this is better.

I used green as he was green in his iconic and heartbreaking moment of splitting off with Pearl and Martyn to join up with Cleo, and also I can remember him being mostly green until Pearl ups and ruins that- he’s a ram, his horns shifting to ram horns to solidify his stubborn nature to reconnect, and a general ranch aesthetic given he and Cleo made a whole soulmate ranch thing. The hair over his eyes are to hide his teary eyes, still missing and hurting over his soulmate.

Limited Life: Coral

A fitting name for the person who established the Coral Isles. The cottage was in the middle of it all, so he wanted his life to be away from all the drama, just by the side of the map near the ocean to relax. Unfortunately, things just won’t stop coming for him. Be it being the boogeyman first, allying with someone who you swore was supposed to kill you, and more memories of your past life you don’t understand coming back to haunt you, it’s a little too much. He can’t help but be flirty with Martyn though, the man definitely bites back. He finds his partner’s overprotective-ness rather adorable, and he’d do anything for him back, even give him time.

Fish!! Drastically different than my AU design, which is good- used his red skin as he did wonderfully as a red name and whenever I think of Limited Life I’d always think of Red Scott, which I adore <3 he does have long hair, can’t not have his long hair for him!

Until series five comes out, these are my thoughts and ideas for Life Series Scott! I’d love to write out possible interaction ideas but I’m afraid this post might be too long LMAO- a good break from Sea Prince content, but I absolutely adore the life series and the pseudo-story I have for this guy in particular. Who knows, you might see fullbodies of them in the future? :D no promises!

[goodlucktai]

gently in the cold dark earth

scum villain's self saving system word count: 2k canon divergent / no system au; sy transmigrates into an empty npc role; gray lotus binghe loves his shixiong more than life and he's ready to make it everyone's problem

title borrowed from work song by hozier

read on ao3

x

The first thing Luo Binghe does when he escapes the Abyss is return to Cang Qiong Mountain. 

With Xin Mo secured to his back, the way could be instant if he so chose—the journey of a thousand miles reduced to a single step—but he unsheathes the elegant jian at his hip instead.

Yong Liang sings sweetly for him, the snow white blade still shining and untainted even after years of helping Luo Binghe carve his way through hell. It has never once failed him, soulbound to the one person still on this earth who has never failed him. 

“Take it,” his shixiong insisted, low and urgent. The Abyss was behind them, an even deadlier threat was ahead, and Without A Cure clogging his meridians made Luo Binghe the best choice to wield the only unshattered spirit sword they had between them. “Binghe, take it.”

He pressed until Luo Binghe’s grip curled tight around the hilt, not hesitating to put his soul in Luo Binghe’s hands even with the rosy glow of an unsealed demon mark shining on his face. 

Luo Binghe flies at a pace best described as dangerously reckless, hardly smelling the fragrant spring air or feeling the sun on his face. His robes are a disgrace, his hair a tangled, matted mess, and it occurs to him that he could stop somewhere and clean himself up, make himself presentable, but it’s a brief, fleeting thought. 

Shen Yuan would be furious to find out that Luo Binghe wasted even a single second returning to his side. 

——

He passes through the ancient wards effortlessly, feeling them fall away from him like water. It’s a simple thing to tamp down on his demonic qi, to disguise the parts of him that those so-called righteous cultivators would scorn. He ghosts through the familiar grounds as eagerly as a starving animal bolting down a fresh game trail, but one by one, all of their familiar haunts come up empty, without even a lingering trace of Shen Yuan’s spiritual energy left behind.   

The head disciple’s room is dusted and undisturbed, as if its occupant might walk through the door at any moment, but the lack of clutter and the empty book shelf makes it very clear to Luo Binghe what the truth must be.

If Shen Yuan returned to the peak after the Conference, he didn’t stay. 

All at once, images crowd the front of his mind—his shixiong grieving, pulling away, turning his back on those responsible for his heartache. 

Yue Qingyuan, always only a step behind wherever his precious Xiu Ya sword went, promised that no one wanted to hurt them. They only wanted to help.

He looked so solemn and righteous that Shen Yuan reluctantly allowed himself to be convinced. Luo Binghe, who had gone to the man for help after a bloody whipping when he was a child, only to be given a walnut cake and turned away at the door, knew better. 

He wasn’t surprised when Shen Yuan was wrenched away from him, and shizun sent him staggering off the cliff with a spiritual dagger buried to the hilt in his chest, all of it happening within a matter of seconds—but it still hurt. 

Shen Yuan’s scream followed him all the way down. 

I’m alive, Luo Binghe thinks, with no one there to tell it to. I came back to you. Let me come back to you. 

——

Including time spent in the abyss, it’s three years before they meet again. 

Luo Binghe’s revenge is his second priority at best, but he is nothing if not efficient and knows how to kill two birds with the same stone. Huan Hua affords him ample resources and opportunities to scour the world for his missing shixiong while playing the role of earnest and diligent new disciple. He snatches up each mission that comes along as though  eager to prove his worth to the sect that so graciously took him in, but he takes every excuse to wander, to search, to make conversation with vendors and innkeepers and passing strangers. 

Have you seen my heart? It lives outside of me in the form of a beautiful young man and tends to wander. Very contrary, likes to fuss over people, could argue the stripes off a lushu just for fun. You’d know it if you met it. You’d never forget. 

The days blur together, meaningless and gray, but he doesn’t stop looking. Shen Yuan still exists somewhere in this world, because otherwise Luo Binghe wouldn’t. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. 

And then, finally—an afternoon in Jinlan City, when Luo Binghe arrives in a throng of incompetent gold-clad Huan Hua disciples, to investigate a plague of all things—

He’s there. 

In dark, neutral colors and plain clothes, a traveling cloak with its hood resting down around his shoulders, as if his beauty could possibly be lessened by cheap, shapeless fabrics rather than effortlessly enhanced. His hair falls from its half-tail in glorious waves—he never did have the patience for anything elaborate, only wearing braids when one of his sticky shidimei cajoled and convinced him. Traveling alone, who could he possibly have to roll his eyes at and complain about and sit patiently still for?

A pale green ribbon is all that decorates his hair. Luo Binghe recognizes it instantly. 

“You should spend your allowance on yourself, Binghe,” Shen Yuan scolded him, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. 

“But I did,” Luo Binghe protested, widening his eyes and clasping his hands earnestly, the way he knew worked best. “I wanted it! And now that I have it, I want to give it to you.”

Shen Yuan was too clever by half to be truly fooled by the innocent act, but he always folded like paper anyway. He spoiled all of his shidimei but Luo Binghe most of all. Anyone on Qing Jing Peak would be hard-pressed to think of a single example of Shen Yuan telling Luo Binghe ‘no.’ 

Sure enough, after a second spent visibly wrestling with himself, he blurted, “Oh, fine! Hand it over.” 

He wore it every day since. He’s wearing it now. The wind catches the ends of it, sending it streaming behind him like the tails of a paradise flycatcher. Lovely. 

For a brief moment, Luo Binghe is frozen where he stands, finally faced with the very thing that he’s been missing for years, that he’s been living a miserable half-life without. 

And then he remembers himself and lurches forward. His voice is a tangle in his throat but he manages to choke out, “Shixiong!”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have jolted Shen Yuan into more perfect stillness. He stops mid-step, every inch of him as good as carved from precious jade. He doesn’t turn his head, and the sliver of his face visible from where Luo Binghe stands is very pale. 

Luo Binghe wonders suddenly if this has happened to him before—if Shen Yuan has heard a voice on the road or in the market that was almost familiar, that was almost the one he was hoping for, only to be disappointed when he turned to follow it and found a stranger. 

Luo Binghe shortens the distance between them with a few anxious steps and tries again. 

“Shixiong.”

The older boy whirls around abruptly, as if to get it over with. He’s bracing himself, but Luo Binghe barely has a second to absorb Shen Yuan’s painful-looking anticipation before it bleeds out of his face in favor of something else entirely. 

He looks like the earth has fallen out from beneath his feet, like he hardly dares to believe his eyes. Zheng Yang gleams golden at Shen Yuan’s hip, reforged and whole again.

“Binghe?”  

“It’s me,” Luo Binghe says softly. 

There’s a tableau he’s afraid to break, as if they’re in a delicate dreamscape and a move too sudden or loud might dissolve it. He wants to say I’ve missed you the way lungs miss air, immediately and needfully, I haven’t breathed at all since we’ve been apart. He wants to say you’re my light in the dark, I can only stand in front of you now because I love you too much to ever truly leave you. 

Instead, he tells his dearest friend, “This one made you wait. But your Binghe is here.”

Shen Yuan sprints the rest of the way to meet him, almost before he’s even finished talking, and they collide in a solid embrace that knocks the air from them both. 

His arms wind around Luo Binghe’s waist like steel bands, fingers digging into the back of his robes, precious face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate to gather him up close, holding him as tightly and securely as he knows how, burying his nose in his shixiong’s hair and breathing in the familiar, beloved smell of him.  

Shen Yuan is a few inches shorter than he remembers. All the better to tuck him beneath Luo Binghe’s chin, to cover and surround him so completely that not even the heavens above can get a decent eyeful. 

He wants to grab and bite and pin Shen Yuan beneath him and never let go. His jaw aches with wanting it. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Luo Binghe says, eyes wet. “I went home first.” Unsaid goes the obvious but you weren’t there. 

“How could I stay?” Shen Yuan bites out, managing to sound all at once strangled and bewildered and—charmingly—offended. He shakes his head without lifting it, an aggressive nuzzle against Binghe’s shoulder. “After what they did to you, I’d rather die than represent their stupid sect another minute.”

“Step away from it, Shen Yuan,” shizun said coldly. “I’ll put that beast back where it belongs.”

“No,” shixiong said in a voice that was smaller than usual, one that shook. He was frightened, clearly overwhelmed, but he didn’t budge from where he was plastered in front of Luo Binghe like a breathing shield. 

“Now.” 

“No, shizun.”

“Shizhi,” Yue Qingyuan said gently, offering his hand. “Come here. It will be alright.”

Shen Yuan said, “No. You can’t hurt Binghe. He’s not bad just because of who his parents are. He’s as good as he was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. He’s hardworking and loyal and a sweetheart to anybody who gives him half a chance. He’s so good.”

Liu Qingge was behind the sect leader, sword drawn. Shen Qingqiu was quickly losing what little patience he had, face twisted into a sneer, dark eyes stabbing hatefully at Luo Binghe from over his head disciple’s shoulder. There were more figures rapidly drawing closer, the other peak lords following the flare of Yue Qingyuan’s qi. The standoff was becoming more and more untenable, and Shen Yuan was too smart not to see that, shrinking back against Luo Binghe as much as he could without crowding him closer to the edge. 

“You can’t hurt him,” he said again, the closest Luo Binghe had ever heard him come to tears, “he’s my shidi.”

Luo Binghe is unsurprised by his shixiong’s loyalty, because it’s already been proven to him over and over. It’s unremarkable at this point, which is an absolutely remarkable thing in itself. It makes him feel warm with gratitude and affection and ownership. 

Shen Yuan is clever and quick on his feet and always three steps ahead, more knowledgeable about flora and fauna than anyone else Binghe has ever known combined, and probably a force to be reckoned with as a rogue cultivator, where the only rules of conduct he has to adhere to are his own. 

But Luo Binghe hates to think of him on the road alone, without the little martial siblings who follow him like ducklings, without his Binghe there to make sure he remembers to eat all his meals and comb out his hair before bed. He’s a creature of comfort, made for airy rooms with too many cushions and an abundance of sweets and books to read. 

Luo Binghe has fantasized more than once about building a home for Shen Yuan to lounge prettily in. It was, in fact, his favorite flavor of daydream since he was about thirteen. 

If Shen Yuan wants to rogue cultivate, then that’s what they’ll do. But Luo Binghe thinks, if he constructs a palace that’s as comfortable as it is grand, and fills it with trashy romance novels and obscure beasts and his own hand-made meals, he can convince his friend to live in it with him.

Shen Yuan needs to be taken care of. Luo Binghe needs to be the one taking care of him. They’re together now and they’ll never be apart again and those needs can both be met. 

That possessive, proprietary feeling coils dark and deep inside him, undulating lazily like a serpent who’s fed enough for days, reminding him over and over what he already knows:

Mine. 

[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

[nawoken]

im back with more thoughts on soulbound au. Wjat if reader's Soulmate got isekaied to twst and expected reader to return to them cuz theyre soulmates as if they didnt just reject the name on their wrist, as if they have the right to just demand it even as reader is with the first years now (excluding ortho grim). How would the boys react to reader just snapping and declaring they feel no love for soulmate. That they love their current partner instead. I can imagine some of them just gloating and acting like a really doting partner in front of the soulmate like "look what you cant have"

Bonus for grim and ortho like "who needs you when i have my feral cat/technological humanoid built by a genius. Get his ass!" And they just send grim and ortho out like pokemons LMAO

Love yourself

(TWST x Broken Soulbond! Reader)

5.C: Hehe, I’m glad u have the same thought as mine, Mortal~

Because as petty as I am, since the moment I had the idea for this AU, I already have the scene where your Soulmate by some way gets to TWST and wants the reader back but gets rejected by them.

I mean, who do they think they are, broke the strongest bond in the world and then came back and demanded it like they deserve it?!

The name has two meanings since the content of this one chapter reminded me of "Love Yourself" by Justin Bieber as something reader would want to tell their Soulmate. The other is just simply loving yourself, something I want to tell you guys and myself.

Pairing: Ace Trappolar; Deuce Spade x g/n Reader

I will do the other later I guess, sorry for the late update, I have writer's block for this one, including my absence due to January cause I have a school break.

Warning: :D)

The moment your Soulmate lands their ass at TWST, you can feel the tug in your heart, the arch, the itch of your Soulmark, and the familiar pulling come from your soul that you’ve almost forgotten during your stay at twisted wonderland. That’s how you know they’re here, and they also feel your faint presence.

The moment your Soulmate lands their ass at TWST, you can feel the tug in your heart, the arch, the itch of your Soulmark, and the familiar pulling come from your soul that you’ve almost forgotten during your stay at twisted wonderland. That’s how you know they’re here, and they also feel your faint presence.

Ace Trappola:

He is unhappy when hearing that your Soulmate has spawned in TWST. (Let’s be real, all of them are, maybe except Kalim or Vil…)

He is sulking the whole way both of you walk to the Headmage office cause apparently, your Soulmate demands to see you the moment they know you’re here.

Ace refuses to let you meet that person alone, Crowley? That crow can not be trusted.

Hearing them ask you to go back, with them, and by their side. Ace glares hard as if if he tries enough, that person will disappear.

They, in fact, do not disappear though.

Plan B, Ace starts to make some comments, he is sarcastic about your Soulmate, berating their behavior toward you.

He interferes every time you try to speak up, to give your supposed to be Soulmate an answer. Basically, he is being annoying till the point you have to kick him out of the room.

Ace doesn't really want to hear your answer, deep down, he worries that you will actually choose your Soulmate over him.

Waiting outside until you finish your conversation, no matter how long it takes.

Seeing you walking out of the room, he tries to act like he doesn't care. But he cares, a lot actually.

Tell him you have rejected the request since... you already have him as your Soulmate while showing him the Basketball wrist wrap he gave you.

Gotta say Heartslabyul is very good at growing tomatoes.

The following days were a series of days, each time you guys pass by your Soulmate, Ace will give them a smug look while walking hand in hand with you.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce, our sweetheart. The first thing he does after he hears that your Soulmate wants to meet you: Asks if you want him to beat them for you.

I mean, ask if you want him to assist you or do you prefer meeting them alone because model students don’t fight (Please bring him with you Ơ ^ Ơ).

It actually doesn’t matter, he will still follow you if you choose the second option, but more secretly (not really).

He doesn’t like your Soulmate, not a bit. But hearing your Soulmate’s request? He almost let them drown under at least three cauldrons (If you are quick enough).

How dare they be so casual about it? Do they not know how much you suffer?

But, Deuce will respect your choice, even if it can be hurtful. Telling you that it is okay if you want to be back with them. He is on the verge of crying, a sad puppy.

Do you really mean that he is more important than the Soulbond?

Give you a tight hug, I mean, a really tight one. He thought that he was going to lose you. But he is happy now, with the brightest smile present on his face.

And now your ex-Soulmates is being the third wheel here.

[venusdandy]

Soulbound Desire - Ch. 1

[Lucifer Morningstar/Reader]

A story where you get to choose your path with a poll at the end of each chapter! [Since this is the first chapter I made the decisions more simple, but they will get more complicated throughout the story!]

Story Summary: No matter how often Heaven tried to make you forget, your soul couldn't leave behind your human life. You remembered. Heaven couldn't manipulate you like the other human souls, so they cast you to Hell as a fallen angel. But funnily enough, you find a home in Hell amongst the strangest beings. And dare you say, you're the happiest you've ever been in any realm.

Story Warnings: Takes place pre-canon. The reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns, with no use for y/n. Depictions of child abuse. Depictions of depression and mental illness. Reader killed themself; that's how they died. Canon typical violence/some depictions of gore. Slow burn. Angst with a happy ending.

Part One (Here)

The drumming of your own heart in your ears is unbearably loud. And your thoughts are swarming like startled bees in your head. And yet, your face remains serene with that mask of a smile. Every human soul in heaven seems to always be smiling, don't they?

What triggered you? You were just fine a moment ago. You just left your home to go for a. . . a walk? A store? You can't remember what you were doing, but you're sure you were okay. . .

You never had so many questions before. You never questioned anything while in Heaven. You never felt the need to. How long have you been staying here, anyway? How many years have passed? 3? 5? You're desperately trying to recall, but it feels like there's a barrier stopping you.

You've never questioned time while in Heaven. Why is that? The more you think about it, the more you recognize that you can't recall anything. How long have you been dead?. . . Dead. You died a few years ago, that's right. You're a human soul who died and went to heaven as an angel. Why can't you remember it, though?

You don't recall having these thoughts before or these unnerved emotions. They're so familiar to you, though. You felt these same emotions when you were alive, didn't you? This deep sadness that feels rooted in your brain has always been with you.

Vague clouded memories are coming to the surface. From when you were alive and on Earth. A miserable life you had, which is why you ended it yourself in your mid-twenties. Your fragile soul couldn't handle it anymore. It's much like how you're having difficulty handling it right now.

This sadness is so familiar it's almost comforting.

Why did you forget you were once alive? And why are you suddenly remembering? What kept you from remembering?

"Oh, you poor thing!" a soft feminine voice coos, "It's happening again, isn't it?"

Your eyes shakingly shift upward to look at the tall angel before you—an actual Celestial being who was created in Heaven years before your existence. You don't recognize her, but something deep within says you should.

The angel has a too-sweet smile, yet you feel something akin to disgust looking at it. She's staring at you like you're a newborn puppy who keeps hurting itself. A pitiful look in her eyes as she stares at you makes you visibly frown.

A subtle gasp leaves her lips as she frowns in surprise. "Oh my, you've stopped smiling! We can't have that!"- The angel smiles brightly again with pity in her eyes, "As your guardian angel, I shall do my duty to make you happy again! No more pesky memories of your former life to bring you down!"

Without time for you to process what she had just told you, her lips glow a golden light. The angel delicately kisses the top of your head, causing your whole body to shiver as if she dumped ice-cold water on you. Her lips touching your skin is making you very uncomfortable. You don't like it. You don't like her.

'No more pesky memories of your former life to bring you down!' The angel had said so casually. Did she . . .brainwash you? Is she doing that to you now? You don't want to forget! You're trying to remember! You know something is wrong and desperately want to figure it out.

The angel's lips leave your head with a loud kissing sound effect. "That should do it!" She chipperly declares.

She's still smiling so brightly at you while you remain frowning. Seeing that you are still the same, her eyes narrow so slightly that you barely notice, but you do, setting off danger alarms in your head. She said she's a guardian angel, which should make you feel safe around her, but there's something darker lurking in her eyes right now. She's not safe.

With your survival instincts based on years of experience from your childhood, you force a broad smile to match her own. You consciously crinkle your eyes and raise your brows to mimic a giddy expression even though you feel like throwing up. You're focusing on your body language and facial expression to sell the act that whatever this angel was trying to do to you worked. You feel she's done this to you before, so you follow that instinct and pretend.

The angel seemed to relax again, and that darker look in her eyes seemingly vanished. "Whoo! I thought it didn't work for a sec; that would've been awful!"

You tilt your head slightly and keep your fake smile steady. "Awful?" you force a relaxed yet cheerful tone, "Nothing is awful in Heaven!"

The angel beams at that, making you feel relief that your acting is fooling her. "You're so right!" she pats your head, and you barely catch yourself from recoiling at her touch.

She lets out a sigh of relief. "I don't know what's so different about your soul, but you sure know how to work a guardian angel to the bone!" She giggles.

Her laugh sounds so hollow. This angel seems like a hollow shell pretending to have human emotions. She's unnerving you greatly, and you want to leave her.

Are all Heaven-born angels like this?

You curve your brows to appear empathetic. "Oh, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry!"

She claps her hands, seemingly excited that you're 'back to normal.' She squeals, saying, "Oh, I'm not upset! I'm quite delighted!"

You mimic her happy clap. "That's wonderful!" you lie to her cheerfully.

With a proud smile from her seemingly successful attempt to brainwash you or whatever she was trying to do, she then gives a firm nod. "I'll have to report this to Adam and Sera again!" The angel tells you, "But not to worry, since you're happy and smiling again, you won't fall!"

Fall. . .?

A bitter taste forms in your throat. What does she mean by you won't fall now that you're happy again? Internally, you're panicking, but put all your energy into keeping up the giddy facade externally.

Suddenly, you're too self-aware of the heavy white feathered wings on your back and the shimmering halo hovering above your head. You're an angel. A human soul that was welcomed into Heaven, which is a rarity these days. You're an angel. Fall. You'd become a fallen angel if you weren't constantly happy, is what you think she is implying. Is it instant? In that case, why haven't you fallen yet if you're only pretending to be happy?

No, that can't be right. . .

The angel mentioned two names: Sera and Adam. Are they the ones in charge? Other than God, you suppose. You quickly go over each of the guardian angel's words. She said she's reporting this incident again, confirming your suspicion that this has happened to you many times. Sera and Adam, whoever they are, will make you a fallen angel if they find out you remember your human life. Your painful human life. The memories are already coming back gradually, though.

The guardian angel bids you farewell, and you force yourself to do the same chipperly.

You know you can't fool Heaven for an eternity. That sounds exhausting, anyway. You'll inevitably fall from Grace, it seems. . .

You decide the best thing to do is be prepared if you're destined for such a fate. You'll gather some things for comfort and protection and research as much as possible to prepare for a new eternity in Hell.

The panic, betrayal, and sadness in your soul throb painfully, and you can't help but wonder. . .

Is this what Lucifer Morningstar felt?

. . .

It's only been five days since you've started regaining the memories Heaven so badly wants you to forget. You've had non-stop headaches, which only added more difficulty to pretending to be happy and brain-dead around other angels. It all makes you feel so drained. You're tired.

After the run-in with your guardian angel, you read the Bible for probably the first time in your life and the afterlife. You highlighted and annotated parts you believed were worth remembering for your safety. Each day, you went to the grandest library in Heaven and read about the history of Hell and Heaven for hours on end. To avoid raising suspicion, you'd check out books about gardening since you also want to be more mindful of herbal remedies.

You can only keep faking a happy smile for so long until you break, though. It happened this morning while you gazed at a family of ducks floating on a pond. You wondered if they were dead ducks eternally tied to Heaven like you. You wondered if they were allowed to keep their memories, unlike you.

You had everything you needed in your bag this morning and had finally let your face frown to reflect the hopelessness you've been feeling. You finally let your tears fall and hit the plush grass beneath your feet.

Your guardian angel shortly appeared, and with one look in her eyes, you could tell she realized you'd never be able to forget your mortal life. That dark flare in her eyes had returned, and you knew today you'd fall.

You'll miss the safety and comfort of Heaven, but at the same time, if they are so unbothered by sending one of their sinless souls to Hell simply because they remember their life as a human, then perhaps you don't want to be here.

You clutch your pleather bag tightly, afraid the angels will take it away. So far, they've paid no mind to your material items. Within it are a few plant seeds native to Heaven, a container of soil from the mini garden you had, a white wooly blanket, a change of clothes, twine, handmade bandages, a battery-operated curling iron, your annotated Bible, holy water, and a dagger crafted from celestial metal that you stealthily swiped from an exorcist angel. You never even knew exorcist angels existed until recently when you stumbled upon a few who were chatting about their apparent yearly visit to Hell to slaughter demons. It sent a disturbed chill down your spine when you heard how nonchalantly they spoke of murder.

Heavon-born angels scare you terribly. You can't even imagine how monstrous demons will be. But you're about to find out.

You are now knelt on an altar with a small gathering of what you assume to be higher-ranked angels surrounding you. You remember two names from your guardian angel here: Sera, who, come to find out, is a mighty seraphim, and Adam, the first human man. Your guardian angel is also present, and you loathe the look of pity she's giving you. As if she's not who reported to her superiors that you can't forget. As if she didn't seal your fate.

The angel Sera states your full name, which brings your attention back to her. She almost has a look of sympathy in her eyes as she gazes down at you. Almost. "Are you aware of why you are here, child?" Sera asks you.

You feel too uneasy speaking, so you nod. Sera's lips are held in a tight frown. "You never sinned as a human and rightfully earned a place here in Heaven. But unfortunately, we cannot allow our human souls to remember their lives as mortals. It disturbs the peaceful balance Heaven strives to upkeep. I hope you can understand our difficult decision."

Sera's words sound empty to you. It sounds like a script she's read a hundred times to a hundred different people. She most likely has and doesn't feel a twinge of sympathy for you. You want to say it doesn't hurt, but it does. This really does.

Sera's stern gaze never leaves you as she calls for another angel. "Adam, do you have the weapon I asked you to retrieve?"

Adam, who looks bored out of his mind, rolls his eyes. "Yeah, duh, it was like the first thing I did."

Sera's eye twitches at Adam's unprofessional tone. "Then, proceed with the ritual. There's nothing more to discuss."

You want to close your eyes tightly so you don't have to witness anything, but you can't tear your gaze away from the silver axe-like weapon in Adam's large hands. The rays of Heaven's sunlight through the chapel's window reflect off the weapon onto the marble floor in front of you teasingly. Provokingly. Mocingky.

You don't fight the tears swelling in your eyes.

Adam also doesn't seem to care about your situation and treats it as a mere nuisance in his routine. He struts toward you and doesn't even bother looking into your eyes, even though you desperately want him to. If Adam is about to chop off your wings and damn you to Hell, you want him to look you in the eyes as he does it. You want to see just how heartless this angel is.

How heartless all these angels are.

Your breath hitches, and your eyes widen as a coursing pain overwhelms your senses. Silent tears are now streaming down your face. You can't even choke out a scream of agony as your body nearly collapses, but with some strength, you manage to hold yourself up with your hands. You hadn't even had time to process how quickly Adam lifted and swung the weapon through your clipped wings.

Your heavenly white wings.

You can feel the golden blood flowing down your back, surely staining your white clothing and dripping onto the altar. Your back feels uncomfortably lighter as your wings fall to the floor behind you. All that remains are nubs portraying out between your shoulder blades.

The loud clanging of metal hitting the altar causes you to flinch. You never liked loud noises. With blurred vision from the tears, you gaze at your halo, which no longer shimmers and looks like an average ring of golden metal.

It's no longer connected to you because you are no longer connected to Heaven.

Almost poetically, you notice one of your feathers a few inches away from your Halo. With shaking hands, you reach for your halo and the feather, gently cradling it. You stare at these former parts of you momentarily before carefully putting them in your bag. You were always the sentimental one. You can't let go of the past.

You're no longer a being of light, but somehow, these monsters are holier than you. A bitter laugh escapes your lungs, along with a choked-out sob. Adam pauses his motions as he finally looks into your eyes, which hold so much sadness. He's the only other former human in the room, although your soul has much more humanity than his ever will. Deep down in Adam's aged soul, he does feel ashamed, but after everything he's gone through, he can't afford to care for anyone other than himself.

Adam raises a brow at you. "Don't see what's so funny about this."

You gasp for air a few times as you let out another humorless laugh. This agony you feel is consuming your soul, and it feels like you're drowning even though you're nowhere near a body of water.

You let your eyes close and shake your head repeatedly. "Is this what he felt?" you quietly ask no one, "Is this what you put him through?"

The angels are confused as they have no idea who you're speaking of. Adam looks to your guardian angel, who shrugs in response, and then the two look to Sera, staring intently at you. She knows. Who else but the brightest Morningstar?

Adam looked back to you and was about to question you since his angelic colleagues weren't, but Sera swiftly raised a hand to silence him. It'd be best not to allow Morningstar's name to be spoken out loud. She motions for Adam to continue the ritual since the final step is to open a portal to Hell, allowing you to fall to your final destination literally.

You clutch your bag tightly to your chest for some form of comfort. In a slow whisper, you say, "If Lucifer Morningstar is anything as the scriptures depict him as"-you open your eyes-"Then he is far more forgiving than Heaven ever will be."

Silent gasps at your audacity to say such words against Heaven almost make you bitterly laugh again. Although holding herself with indifference, Sera subtly narrows her eyes at you. Your guardian angel is covering her mouth in shock as if you said the most offensive words to her. And Adam has stilled. He's staring at you with such a blank expression it causes you to tremble with fear. But the look in all their eyes proves your words to be true. You have never met Lucifer Morningstar, and you most likely never will, but your soul already feels connected to the first fallen angel.

With an angered glare and no more room to speak, Adam snaps his fingers, causing a portal to Hell to form below you. The sudden pull of gravity causes you to scream in shock and your arms to flail desperately. Adam peers down at you with disgust as the portal shrinks away, just like any shame he had for what he did to you.

Instinctively, you try to flap your wings, but you only feel the muscles in your nubs excessively shifting. With your bag to your chest, you curl into a protective ball. You twirl in the air to have your back facing down, so that'll be the first thing that hits Hell's surface. You keep your eyes tightly shut as if it would protect you like a child hiding from monsters under their blanket.

You will your soul to warm itself up, causing a faint golden glow to surround your body in a weak but protective shield. You can only hope your soul has enough angelic energy left to protect your body from being fatally injured. But the Celestial light within your soul was dimming as you fell through layers of darkening red skies.

Sensing that you're nearing Hell's surface, you send out a final burst of your dwindling angelic power and successfully shield yourself from the impact as you crash into Hell’s jagged, red rocks, creating a large crater. Despite your minimal aura creating a fleeting cushion, the rocky surface seared against your former ethereal form, and the fiery abyss roared around you in an unforgiving embrace.

Your body trembles and twitches in pain. It would help if you slept after that burst of energy you used, but you know you can't. Not now. It's not safe. Surely, some demons saw you pummeling down and would be far too curious not to investigate. You need to force your body to move. You need to survive.

Slowly, you turn onto your side and lift yourself to your hands and knees. You take a moment to breathe before crawling out of the crater your body has formed, with your golden blood painting the surface. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins at this point. You know you'll pass out from exhaustion when you find a safe place. But you're in Hell; is there even a safe place to rest? Surely not.

Leaning against a taller rock, you shift your body away from the crater so you won't fall backward into it. You force your shaking hands to retrieve the twine, bandages, and battery-operated curling iron from your bag. You're still heavily bleeding, which is only worsening your weakened state.

You turn on the curling iron and wait for it to reach maximum heat. You then use the twine to tightly tie around your nubs, temporarily cutting off the circulation and minimizing the blood flowing down your back. Your movements are slow and sloppy, but it's the best you can manage as you fight for your conscience to stay intact.

Feeling the iron's heat and deciding it's hot enough, you lay it directly onto your nubs' open wounds, which causes you to wince from the burning. The nubs start to scab over from the curling iron's searing heat, finally stopping the blood from flowing out. You keep the twine tied just in case, though.

You remove your tattered clothes and messily fold them before putting them in your bag, not caring that you're naked since, at the moment, you are far from any other being. Hell's fire comforts your exposed body, but you only allow yourself a second to bask in it.

Without adequately cleaning the wounds first, you wrap your nubs and the parts of your body most damaged in your homemade bandages. You couldn't pack any medications due to Heaven lacking public medical supplies since the average angel never gets into a situation where they'd be in pain. You then pull out the new outfit you packed and slowly dress yourself, which covers most of your bandages.

You still look battered up with bruises and cuts on some of your exposed skin and cheekbones, but you figure that would be a regular sight in Hell.

Ever so slowly, you stand to your feet. Your legs are wobbly, so you lean against a rock for support. It would be best if you moved now that you did what you could do for your most damaged wounds.

Staring out into the city of demons further below you, a pit of anxiety forms. You're scared. You're so frightened of what may happen to you if you encounter a demon. You're not safe here or out there.

You'll never be safe again now that you're in Hell.

You need to decide quickly what would be the best for your survival. You don't want to venture too far into the city since you still don't know much of Hell. You should also find a bathroom or somewhere to clean your wounds and maybe rest.

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

how to show your heart on your sleeve

After the events of how to growl and bare your teeth by Odaigahara, Pearl begins to learn, with the unintentional help of Scar and Grian, that she is not unloveable.

Part of @mcytrecursive made for @destinys-dragon

Words: 1131

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Pearl curled around her hand, glaring at it like that would make the burn any less painful. She hardly felt it was fair that she was burned. How was she supposed to remember that she couldn’t just grab the kettle off the fire without a rag, it’s not like she’s used one in over two years; probably longer since she’s heated it over an open fire instead of a furnace. 

She had just wanted to get the tea ready for the three of them before Scar and Grian came back from the nearby town. She had stayed to cook and hunt, happy to once again traverse the forest.

She even found a few of her wolves again. It was clear that the pack had thinned, and she mourned the loss of some of her girls, but she had found Tilly again. The silver wolf was thinner than she remember, and the eyes had aged from their light green to a swampy yellow, but it was her Tilly alright. 

Grian had been wary of the newest addition to their travel party, but Scar had fallen in love in an instant, cooing over the wolf like she was a little puppy and not the terrifying hunter she was. Pearl had to agree though, Tilly was about as adorable as a puppy. Sweet like one too, when she wasn’t mid-hunt. 

Her head poked up as she heard rustling in the woods and the now familiar tones of Grian and Scar. They were once again arguing and she couldn’t help smile as she picked out a few words. Not even two weeks after their grand escape, just a two towns over, and Scar was already starting a scam. They weren’t even out of the Lonely Kingdoms yet, for goodness sakes! She’d have to hear what this was about. 

“Ah! There she is,” Scar exclaimed as they came out the bush into their little clearing of a campsite. “Pearlo, you just have to settle this debate we’re having.”

“It’s not a debate, Scar. You want us to do something stupid, and I’m telling you not to,” Grian replied with a heavy sigh. 

Scar tutted, setting down his bag by the fallen log they had dragged over before setting himself down on top of it. “See, Pearlo, I want to– What happened to your hand?” he asked mid sentence, brows furrowing.

“Oh this?” Pearl asked and waved her hand out, much to fast for either soulmate to see, before tucking it back under her crossed arm. She grimaced as the burn brushed against the fabric of her shirt, “It’s nothing. Just a bit of a burn. Scott will– Or… no. Huh, I guess it’ll just heal on it’s own eventually then. Unrelated question, how long do burns heal without potions?”

Grian sighed then, setting his own bag and beginning to dig through it. “Okay, crazy lady, let’s see it.” 

“See what? I’m fine ,” She insisted, drawing out the ‘i’. She stood, Tilly sitting up to watch her, and used her uninjured hand to grab the potholder off to the side. She grabbed the kettle off the fire properly this time, “See! I boiled water. For tea! You guys like tea, right?” 

Grian didn’t even look up from his bag, just continuing to pull out medical supplies. Scar gave her a soft look, walking over and setting a gentle hand on her arm. He moved her arm to set the kettle back down. “Let’s have tea after. We don’t need to be soulbound to know that you’re hurting.” 

She blinked up at him in quiet surprise, something warm exploding in her chest. There was no shame or anger in Scar’s gaze, just his usual kind smile. She left a growing lump in her throat as she glanced over to Grian. She expected annoyance from him, he was annoyed with everything the two of them did if he wasn’t actively participating in it himself, buy instead he was contently organizing their meager supplies. He was going to waste bandages and medicine on her . 

“I.. I don’t know what to say,” She muttered softly, “You– You guys don’t need to help me, y’know. I’m not going anywhere. Can’t get rid of me, really. Probably.” 

She would follow these two fellas wherever they wanted to go, for as long as they tolerated her. She half thought they would have gotten tired of her by now, but they hadn’t shooed her off like a dog that begged for too many scraps just yet. Instead, they acted like they actually wanted her around. Like she wasn’t a nuisance they kept around for the sake of convenience. Though, she couldn’t figure out what would ever be convenient about keeping around a broken soulbound and her feral wolf would be. 

“You’re our friend Pearl, we’re fixing you up cause we want to,” Scar answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh,” She said, dumbfounded. She doesn’t think she’s had someone just want to do something for her, just cause, since– since even before she ran from Scott. 

Ah, and there were the waterworks. 

Scar’s eyes widened in surprise and he immediately squished her face between his hands, “OH no. No. No. Why tears? Why crying? Grian, why is our Pearlypop crying?” 

She could hear Grian groan loudly from the other side of the campsite, “I don’t know, Scar! What did you say to her?” 

“I just said we wanted to fix her up and she started crying!” Scar exclaimed, letting go of Pearl’s face so he could push her towards his soulmate. “G, fix it! Fix her!” 

Pearl couldn’t help it, beginning to giggle through the tears. Something in her was tearing apart: a wadded up ball of stress she hadn’t realized was sitting in her chest was being torn apart bit by bit with every sob and laugh she had while listening to the two squabble.

This. This is what she wanted when she left. She had thought she had wanted carefreeness of the woods. She thought she wanted the biting winters over palace walls. 

Scar sat her down on the log and Grian began the careful administration of salve onto her burns and bandages around her hand. He made cutting remarks about how weak she was for a weird little witch as he did so. Tilly slipped beside her, nosing at Grian’s arm and he let her, only stiffening up a bit. Scar held her free hand and cooed over her, wiping her tears and promising her first dips of all the fresh fruits and vegetables they had brought back with them. 

She wanted this. She wanted company and friendship and, most of all, she wanted people who cared for her. She wanted love, and she finally had it.

[hopepetal]

This is something I wrote a couple months back, but never did anything with the au after.

Writing Masterlist

--

“Hey, G-man?”

Scar’s calling for him again, in the same way he’s always done. Grian can’t blame him– they’re soulbound, after all, and that man seeks approval and attention in a way that makes Grian almost want to picture him with floppy ears and a wagging tail. Almost, but not quite, because Scar is already so perfectly Scar that it infuriates Grian. 

Scar pokes his head into the keep, and Grian tries to hold back a sigh as he shuts the chest he was rummaging through. “Hey, G-man, I was just wondering–”

Grian interrupts him. “Scar, if this is about the pandas again, I’m not going to be very happy.” He tries not to wince when he shuts the poor man down. He doesn’t want to be cruel, and it pains him every time he sees Scar’s face fall, but Grian has long been unable to afford the luxury of friends.

It wasn’t always this way, of course it wasn’t. What kind of story starts out with a character who’s already sad? Clearly not an entertaining one, not to the omnipresent beings that decided they’d have a hand in controlling Grian’s own. No, a story had to start out with something precious, something fragile. Something like flowers, like friends and an oath, or a loyal companion as your only friend.

And then, just when you think you’ve finally won, that precious thing is taken from you and destroyed, and you are never the same and that’s what makes a story interesting. 

In Grian’s opinion, a person’s life isn’t a story that can be erased and rewritten when it doesn’t suit your taste, but who is he to challenge the narrative gods who call themselves the Watchers? Sure, he once swore he’d never bow to authority and be a force of pure chaos and revolution, but those values tend to falter after being forced to kill the one person outside his family that he’d allowed to touch his wings. So sue him.

Scar laughs, but it’s not the kind of laugh Grian’s used to hearing. It’s the kind of laugh that comes from nerves, along with shaking hands and jumbled thoughts and fear that you’re going to screw everything up. “Nah, I just wanted… I still want to, I just, you know, I wanted to check in! See how my partner is doing! Normal things that allies do, because they can!”

Grian tenses up the moment the word ‘partner’ leaves Scar’s mouth. It’s familiar in the same way the desert sun is. It’s bitter in the way it feels so familiar, but so strange at the same time. Scar hasn’t called them “partners” since third life. It’s only ever been “soulmates” or “soulbounds”, because that’s all they were. Two people who had their souls randomly bound together by fate, against their will. They were not partners. They were allies, sure, but it’s only reasonable to ally with the person who shares your life.

Grian stands up, sighs, and slowly turns to face Scar. “What do you want…” The words get stuck in his throat as he realizes what Scar’s holding.

Scar looks up at Grian, and offers him a bouquet of lilacs and poppies. “Can we… can we still be friends?”

And Grian feels...

He feels. 

For the first time since the desert, since the harsh sun shone down on tanned skin, bruised and bleeding. For the first time since he beat his best friend to death and jumped to his own, Grian feels a crack in the numb, emotionless barrier he’s built like fortress walls around his heart. 

It’s all he can do to keep from letting those carefully crafted walls crumble as he stares at the lilacs and poppies held in his soulmate’s hands. Flowers given to him once by his partner, with skin as grey and lifeless as steel, were now being offered to him by the very same hands Grian remembers desperately clinging to after death. 

“What is this, Scar?” he asks, and he tries to keep his tone as cold as the icy fear that slowly grips his heart. 

Grian still remembers the confusion in Scar’s eyes. He could never forget how Scar patiently waited for him to finish sobbing out desperate apologies and pleas for forgiveness, before taking his hands and telling him “it’ll be alright, Grian. That sounds like some awful nightmare.”

And no matter who he asked, it was always the same thing. Slight confusion, a furrowed brow, and a gentle “are you alright?” as if they hadn’t lived and died by the sword for months on end.

He’d been half-convinced he was making it all up in his head before Scott came to him after last life and told Grian what he knew. It had been comforting, at the very least, to know that there was someone else who understood.

But as for the rest of the players...

It was only natural Grian began to drift away. It was only natural that he closed off his heart to the world. They wouldn't understand– couldn't, because to them, the death games were nothing but particularly bad nightmares Grian had, despite the carefully practiced insistence that they did believe him, he just had to take a deep breath and they’d talk about it and–

The look in Scar’s eyes, so jarringly green and bright, is something Grian only saw when those very same eyes were red. 

Scar chuckles awkwardly, looking away. “Look, Grian, I... I know I’m not exactly the smartest guy around, but I can tell when something’s up. Not only that, but I…” He pauses for a moment, trying to think his way through his words. “Grian, I’m going to be completely honest with you here. I died. And then, all of a sudden, bam! I wake up, and I’m here! And, woah, what are the odds, you’re here too! And at first, I was overjoyed, but then I realized…” Scar’s voice saddens, and he looks back up at Grian. “I realized that something was wrong. And, y’know, you’d think a man would know that somethin’s wrong when he wakes up from death, I mean, that’s the one thing you don’t wake up from, but like I said, I’m not the brightest fella!”

Grian knows that’s a lie. Scar is brilliant, in his own sort of way, and that was proven by how he’d convinced everyone that he was anything but that. Grian had seen him in action, when he swindled people out of their diamonds, armor, and weapons during third life. Grian knows that Scar is one of the smartest people he’s ever met, and yet he can’t find the way to say that.

He can’t find the way to say anything, apparently, because he’s in shock. Probably. Is that how this worked? Whatever it was, he was sure it made him look positively stupid, standing there completely unresponsive like a zombie.

However it makes him look, it clearly worries Scar. “...heyyyy. Earth to G-man. Hello, Grian? Don’t die on me now, that would be bad. That’s– that’s my thing, remember? C’mon, G, wakey wakey!”

Grian snaps out of whatever daze he was in, and tries to keep his voice from shaking when he speaks. “...do you really… remember…?” He sounds quite a bit like a lost child, and feels like one too. “The desert…?”

Scar’s expression softens. He holds out the flowers with a hesitant smile. “I don’t really know what’s going on,” he admits, “but–”

Grian throws his arms around Scar, tears streaking down his face. The bouquet of flowers falls to the ground as Scar gasps, before he hesitantly hugs Grian back. 

The carefully crafted walls around Grian’s heart collapse.

[ashtonisvibing]

"You have both of our lives in your hands!"

Fandom: Life Series/Double Life SMP

Alternate Universe: None (Canon Divergence)

Ship(s): Slight mention of Grian x GoodTimesWithScar

Character(s): Grian, GoodTimesWithScar

Warning(s): None

Originally Published: February 4th, 2024

Word Count: 1,601

Author's Notes:

seasons skirmish gift for dusty_daffodil on AO3

first time writing... anything for mcyt, let alone the desert duo. but i certainly tried! :D

if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!

[plain text: if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!]

Full Story:

The sound of a pickaxe whacking against stone was the only sound that carried through the tunnel Grian had started to make for himself. Nearly a month in and neither him nor Scar had any sort of diamond equipment, not even a measly hoe or shovel. And with how wreckless Scar was being, Grian was fed up with using only iron armor as protection. He had such a huge chance to not end up with one of the few people here who had no regard for their safety. How did he manage to luck out as badly as he did? Well, what’s done is done now. All he needed to focus on was making sure they didn’t lose their first life already.

“Damn it, where are the diamonds??” Grian huffed, resting his pickaxe on his shoulder as he looked back up at the makeshift stone stairs that was his mineshaft. He couldn’t see the outside with how deep he had gone. “I’m almost out of torches, too. I’m surprised I haven’t found much coal down here, either..” He looked back at the stone in front of him, gently fiddling at the red, yellow, and blue feathered wings where ears should have been. A forcive habit for whenever he was thinking. “I should probably get back to the sur- Gah-!”

The avian dropped down on one knee as he clutched his chest, using his pickaxe to prop himself up. A sharp, burning pain shot from his heart and spread around his chest. He was far too familiar with this pain by now, even if it was usually slightly dimmed down. The phantom pain of his soulbound partner taking damage. And judging by how impactful it was this time…

Grian tapped the glowing green heart on his chest, revealing his health and hunger bars. And he was suddenly down four hearts. Okay, maybe Scar just fell while dealing with his cats, nothing to- “Shit-!” Another wave of pain, another three hearts lost. What was his partner doing up there?! He quickly grabbed a piece of steak out of his side bag and ate it in hopes of keeping his hunger up. It must be night time right now, why else would the two be taking so much damage

And suddenly, after another bout of pain… One heart left. The avian was panicking now. His face was pale and breathing quickened, almost to a degree that it felt like he was choking on his own air. This was it, they’d be losing their first life. And then it wouldn’t be long until they were down to red, and then completely losing. He started to scramble out of his mine shaft. His hearts were slowly regenerating; Scar might have gotten a moment of peace and was eating. But that didn’t mean the danger was over. Since it was currently night time, he could get swarmed by zombies, or blown up by a creeper. He could simply fall off a cliff.

Grian just hoped he could find his partner in time before anything happened.

The avian decided to stop by their base first, calling out Scar’s name into the dark oak trees around him in the hopes that he’ll get a response. But he wasn’t getting anything. Scar could be on the other side of the area for all he knew. At the very least by now their hearts were almost full. Grian just had to hope that it would stay that way until he found his partner.

“Scar-!” He was quick to rush through the entrance of their base, eyes darting around frantically in the hopes he’d spot a glimpse of his friend. “Scar, are you here?!”

“Grian!”

Running through the entrance was the man himself. With that stupid without-a-care smile on his lips, his hand waving to his partner before stopping right in front of him. “Oh man, you’ll never bel-”

“Scar, we just almost died, what the hell were you thinking?!” Scar was used to Grian’s frustrated yelling by this point. There was no shortage of silly and, to everyone else, stupid ideas from the salesman, especially now that he had acquired those huge gray cats. And considering that yes, he almost got the two of them killed, he wasn’t surprised that the other was so upset.

“Oh Grian, you would not believe how many monsters can appear in the jungle!” Scar laughed a little as he headed over to the cat pit, pulling some bamboo sticks out of his backpack. Grian was quick to follow him. “I just wanted to grab some snacks for the kitties, and suddenly I’m getting swarmed by skeletons and spiders! Good thing you had some food on you, I completely forgot to grab some before I left.” He chuckled, about to jump right into the pit, before his partner grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Scar, I really don’t think you understand. We. Almost. Died. And for what, just because you wanted to feed your cats?? They don’t even need to eat!” He threw his hands up in the air to try and add more emphasis to the situation. His feathers were getting really ruffled trying to get the other to understand the situation.

“Well- I didn’t think you’d be so upset by this.” Scar huffed a little, deciding to just toss the bamboo sticks into the pit in the hopes that the felines would just eat them themselves. “Sure, we almost died because I got caught by monsters, I’ll admit to that. But guess what? We didn’t! So no harm done!” And there was that confident smile, one that could either quell the avian’s worries or just make him more annoyed by how sure Scar was in whatever he was saying. And unfortunately, it wasn’t the former.

Grian took a deep breath, through the nose and out through the mouth. He couldn’t let himself just blow up on his partner. His singed pants remembered the last time that happened. “Okay. I don’t think you quite understand the situation here. The two of us?” He punched Scar’s arm, hard enough to remove half a heart from their health. The other responded with a “Hey-!” as he rubbed where he was punched. “We’re linked! I wouldn’t be upset about you running off to who knows where at whatever time if we weren’t! But any damage you take, I take, so whenever you go off on your silly little adventures you’ve got both of our lives to worry about. I just-” The avian let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do you constantly put yourself in danger, hm? Is it just to prove some sort of point?”

Scar was completely taken aback by Grian’s words. He hadn’t even thought that his own little adventures would upset his friend so much. Sure, this wasn’t the first time he’d gotten them so close to death. But it’s not like he ever did it on purpose. Yet the avian was upset all the same. And when Scar gave it a second of thought, he was right to be upset. He could always be a little more careful, a little less reckless. He could try to not go out at night, or start fights with the other soulbound people here. He could try to be a better friend.

“You’re… You’re right.” He chuckled a little, fingers running through his hair. “I really haven’t been the greatest friend, huh..? But I’m gonna start doing way better. And I can start by- By getting rid of these pesky cats!” And like he did only a couple of minutes before he tried to jump into the cat pit. And like last time, Grian stopped him. But this time it was more out of confusion than anger.

“Wha- Scar, I didn’t- You are the most… Bullheaded person here, aren’t you?” Despite his words, there was a small smile trying to form on his lips. Oh, he was trying hard not to be amused by his friend’s antics that never made sense. It was certainly a tough task. And Scar’s laughter wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“And here I thought you hated the cats. Have you warmed up to them, my friend?” That cocky smirk was on his lips as he crouched down a little to meet Grian’s height.

Grian hated his friend’s cocky nature. He hated how he never thought things through, how quick he was to jump into anything. How he always made a bad situation seem good. And how his smirk could easily bring a red blush to the avian’s cheeks.

He was quick to turn his head away so that said cheeks wouldn’t be visible, trying to hide his fluster as he crossed his arms over his chest. “No, not at all! I just- You’ve cared for them since day one, it would be stupid to get rid of them so soon!”

Grian’s stubbornness to always be right was the funniest thing to Scar. And who was he to deny his friend’s needs? He chuckled as he put his hands up, surrendering to the avian in front of him. “Alright, alright, the cats are staying then! Now, for my first decision as the new and responsible Scar, I say we go to bed. That way the day will come and all the skeletons and zombies and such will burn away.” Despite his attempt to hold it back, the avian let out a little chuckle as he looked up at his friend. Always the one for the dramatics. Another thing he “hated”.

“That’s the greatest decision you’ve ever made.”

[worriedvision]

Soulmate/Soulbound AU Angst

(Platonic or romantic) Reader and genshin character get along great. In a dangerous situation the genshin character only has time to either save their soulmate or someone very important to the country’s stability. Even the traveler themselves. They chose the latter.

The reader miraculously survives, but is shaken by their soulmates lack of hesitation. Extra angst if reader and important person doesn’t get along.

Doing this with Alhaitham lol, I saw the request and instantly thought of him. Gender neutral reader. Decided to go platonic here

--

You didn't know how you got yourself into this position. You had been walking alongside the traveler, Paimon talking like her usual self. A big hole suddenly formed underneath the both of you, and you both caught onto the ledge. Unfortunately, this must have been a trap of sorts. In hindsight, you should have been more observant.

Of course, all you could do was call for help. You feel your grip growing slack, and you look over to see the traveler in the same state. Paimon, thankfully, is not hanging on. She screams out for help as well, asking for a hand with getting the traveler up. You hear a familiar set of footsteps, and you let out a sigh of relief when you see Alhaitham.

"Help! Paimon insists the traveler needs help first!" Paimon states, yanking at the travelers hand as if that would do any good. As your grip grows more slack, fingers slowly losing their grip, you see the traveler get hoisted up, Alhaitham only then looking over to realise who the other person was.

You weren't bitter that he saved the traveler first because, really, the traveler had helped out quite a few nations with conflict. What did hurt, however, was when you see the look of indifference on his face as your grip finally slipped. The traveler had actually tried to grab your hand, at risk of falling overboard with you, but Alhaitham yanks them back to prevent the traveler from falling.

The hole seemed to be a bottomless pit. It felt like you had been falling for minutes, you have to close your eyes shut due to the way the wind hit your face as you fell. All you can do is think back on the good memories you had with Alhaitham, the times you felt like you were close enough with him to be considered a friend. Your lip quivers, you thinking about how Alhaitham was this brilliant, intelligent man to so many people. You had the privilege of knowing him, let alone being a friend of his, and admittedly you always did feel like you could have done better with your life. The unconcerned look Alhaitham gave chilled you, it told you that you cared more about the friendship than he did.

"Your time isn't over. Take deep breaths." You hear a young voice reassure you. You felt a strange warm feeling surrounding you, comforting you in a way, and you genuinely thought you were about to die and this was your body giving in. You follow the command, taking deep breaths, and you fall asleep after feelings the warm feeling intensify.

--

Your eyes slowly open up. Somehow, you were still alive. Master Tighnari had been tasked with looking after you, under the command of Lesser Lord Kusanali. Nobody else was allowed to know about your whereabouts until you were recovered, you discover after asking him what happened. He didn't know very much - he was informed that you had been freefalling, and you needed time and space to recover. After getting clearance to leave, you thank Master Tighnari for his assistance in getting you back to health before getting back to your home.

The walk there was uneventful, at first. You hear a gasp, and you look over to see the traveler running towards you to check this wasn't some mirage they had seen. They stare at you, clearly taking in the fact that you were still very much alive, and you had been miraculously unharmed.

"I'm..." They start, unsure what to say to you. "I'm glad you're well."

You couldn't bring yourself to hate the traveler. You saw the panic in their face as they reached out to you, screaming out when Alhaitham grabbed them and pulled them back.

However, one person you couldn't stand was Paimon.

"Hey, why did you leave? Oh, Paimon thought _ died." Paimon exclaims, not apologising for putting priority over the traveler. Paimon could have easily just called out for help, but she had to put lots of emphasis on the traveler.

"Be more sensitive, Paimon." The traveler tuts, Paimon crossing her arms and scowling at the traveler for their advice.

"Well, Paimon doesn't want to pass on a chance to get a meal from Alhaitham!" She pleads, dragging the traveler by their clothes. The traveler waves, saying they'll try to catch up with you later.

You get yourself home. You can't bare to see Alhaitham this soon, you were still processing the fact he was happy to let you fall to your death. Absolutely no remorse in his eyes. Yes, you knew he was a logical and rational person, but the way he didn't seem to feel any form of guilt really hurt your feelings.

Looking at the letter waiting for you at home, you were informed that you were no longer employed at your dead end job. You can't help but laugh, this was a horrible way of waking up. You didn't enjoy your work, but it kept a roof over your head.

Perhaps this was a good thing, though. You had enough saved up to keep the house while you went job hunting, and this gave you the opportunity to find a job you'd love doing. You would make a good name for yourself, and you would work towards perfecting your chosen craft.

[sunderedazem]

So what is a soulbond, out of curiosity?

Soooooo the answer is slightly dependent on you having completed the Pandaemonium raids in ffxiv so I'mma put the answer beneath a spoiler/readmore and then tag in @azems-familiar in case they wanna add anything

So- a soulbound is the thing Lahabrea and Athena did- the temporary fusion and intermixing of their souls, and then return to normal - or maybe with a *little* tiny link to the other person. Except Helios and Seleukos (Corrain and Lelesu's ancients, respectively) did it by accident as teenagers, when they were trying to figure out if Helios could use Seleukos's aether to use creation magicks. He was born really thin of aether for an ancient, and so using that kind of magic nearly kills him, and Seleukos was trying to help. Except it didn't work that way and they accidentally soulbonded. The Convocation had to get involved to see if they could be separated safely and it was eventually determined that No, these teenagers who just accidentally recreated forbidden magick in their backyard genuinely did it on accident and uhhhhh. well, that's definitely a real soulbond. Can't fix that your souls are tied. Now go get yelled at by Lahabrea and Emet-selch and your parents and then go home and don't do it again.

So anyway that's how our ancients accidentally soulbonded. They use it for nefarious prank purposes for the rest of eternity and it's why their souls reincarnate at the same times and gravitate toward each other.

ty for the ask!

[theinfinitemoo]

The following was written by Abyss 🍁

REQUEST: RANCHERS ANGST

[Part One] [Part Two]

Tango wakes up with a sinking feeling that he’s going to die today.

It isn’t the constant sense of dread he’s had since he found out who he was Soulbound to. It’s not the fear that has sat in his chest ever since the last Game, when the possibility of an ally turning on him became very real. This is different.

It’s more of a shadow, a looming anxiety that hangs over him and keeps him awake into the deepest hours of the night. He hasn’t felt like this since… well. The last time he permadied.

(Moon, space, stars, explosions screaming carried off into the void, he’s so so alone—)

Tango tries not to think about it. For all the good that does.

Whatever he is trying to do to focus on now instead of then isn't working, so he jumps at the chance of a distraction, meeting the other red names at Bdubs and Impulse’s base. Which nearly works.

Then Ren throws a TNT minecart down and Tango’s fear spikes, vision blurring. But it’s nothing, just a joke, so Tango relaxes. Barely.

Everything is fine until later, when Joel crits Jimmy and brings them so low that Tango braces himself for death. But they escape, pulse beating through their three remaining hearts. That was much closer than either of them would’ve liked.

What really sends Tango over the edge, though (both literally and figuratively) is the hill.

It’s insignificant in the grand scheme of things, a small thing that he shouldn’t give a second thought. But it sticks with him, for whatever reason. If something as small as falling from a hill can kill him… especially when paired with any damage Jimmy takes…

His partner is cursed by the universe. Tango just has to accept that. Whatever happens, happens.

He keeps that in mind when Jimmy’s distress messages come through.

Tango is pretty sure the Divorce Gang won’t kill Jimmy. But Cleo and Scott will do what’s needed for the good of their team. And Martyn’s reckless, with a reputation of backstabbing. So, on second thought… maybe Tango isn’t as sure of their mercy as he first thought.

Jimmy is in a box in the ground. It’s a very vulnerable position. This could really go any direction.

(Whatever happens, happens.)

Which is nothing. They tease Jimmy and try to throw Tango in the box, too, but they don’t try to murder them. Relief washes over Tango; he really doesn’t want to die, no matter how certain he is that they will.

Their luck soon runs out, unfortunately.

There’s nothing more Tango could’ve done. 

The final pieces of the world disappear, leaving nothing but black void behind. It’s familiar, the feeling of permadeath. It’s cold, and empty, and Tango hates it.

(He did all he could. It still wasn’t enough to save them.)

It’s dark, but this time there’s no stars to keep him company.

[djts-arts]

ONLY WATCH AFTER YOU WATCHED SECRET LIFE

Thinking about Pearl the corrupted goddess.

The god in her wanting to save Scar from the pain and agony of loneliness.

But the corrupted side of her. The side corrupted by the watchers and becomes stronger every time she plays their games. The corrupted side wants Scar to win in pain. Pain that will stain him for the rest of his life. The hated villain of the server with no one to be his friend.

Now am just thinking that this started after she won DL cause that's where the watchers saw her as the most vulnerable and reachable. Seeing her soulbound died Infront of her without a fight was not a fitting way win she thinks.

So in Limited life with that corruption following her. One of her main goals is to kill Scott and gain a new champion for this game they're in.

Then Secret Life happened. She wanted one of the mounders to win but due to circumstances Scar was left. Lonely Scar didn't have an alliances on day one became the villain of the server and when became fully Red just went into madness. Sounds familiar. She saw herself in him. She wanted him to win. So instead of sacrificing herself she gave him a good fight. Unlike her's with Scott who's battle is still unresolved

So I tried my best here in typing but hopefully this is understandable on what I'm trying to say