#Soulbound Journey

[swordboundheroes]

Specific Intros: Us weirdos!

Katrina: Me! I also go by New River or Beaver (I have an entire essay on Warg naming conventions I could write). I'm a warg, a large sapient wolf/bear-like creature which is often found caring for goblins or other small, social sophonts. I did not have a goblin tribe of my own, I lived independently after I struck out from my pack and lived a fairly peaceful life in a scrubland along the foothills of a mountain range. I died in a flash flood, and now I'm here. Chained to a spiritual sword and trying to live a normal life as a human woman.

The Sword: Also me! Goes by either my real human name (not sharing for privacy purposes) or Journey. Seems to directly be the body and spirit of whoever was meant to be this woman I am before we got chained together inextricably. Since we have never been separated, I do not know how much of "my" personality is found within either Katrina or Journey.

Latios: My guardian angel. Suprise I'm Catholic! Why does my guardian angel show up as a Pokémon? I have no clue whatsoever. He's here, but in the sense that he communicates with me when necessary in the most simple way, which is often just to show up in the Sword Room.

Nellie: Pupper ♡♡ She's a dog made of shadows who appears in shadows and at the corners of my vision in the material world. Aka she's definitely some sort of hallucination. But she's sweet and soft and protects me from all the nameless monsters in the dark.

[valloveskeiji]

I should post more about me being in a soulbond with Keiji here. Just unsure where to start!

So first things first I’ll talk about phantom touch!

I think that’s what people call it at least

Keiji is quite affectionate in nature but I get busy so I can’t talk to him or acknowledge him all the time.

Like too focused on drawing, talking with people irl, doing school work, stuff like that

Usually as a reminder that he is there he’ll hold my shoulder or hug me. What I find the most cute is getting a random kiss.

The only “downside” is that I have to pretend he isn’t doing that if others are around.

I am honestly very lucky to be able to feel him even if it’s faint. I still feel his warmth, presence, and touch. It keeps me going everyday even if his clinginess isn’t what I’d normally accept into my life. If it was anyone else I’d hate it since I normally dislike physical touch. I only love it from him.

++ feel free to ask any questions abt my relationship! I really don’t mind :]

[phsolomon]

Read The Wandering Isles by CL Schneider #EpicFantasy #Fantasy #SwordandSorcery

[darkeiya]

EmetWoL Week - Day 7: Soulbound

No matter how far the light may travel, the darkness shall always greet her at journey's end.

[sweetvoidstuff]

Soulbound II Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Written for @neohumanmonster Valentine's Event

Tropes: Soulmate Marks

Cha Hyun Su x Reader

Summary: You are on a quest to find your soulmate, Cha Hyun Su, amidst the chaos of monstrous transformations it leads to an unexpected alliance and a bond that defies the darkness consuming the world.

Potential trigger warnings: Themes of apocalypse, monstrous transformations, loss of loved ones, grief, existential despair, and emotional turmoil.

Masterlist

~~~~~

In a world that is at its last leg, where humanity teetered on the brink of extinction due to a mysterious affliction that turned individuals into monstrous beings fueled by their strongest desires, you embarked on a journey to find your soulmate, someone called Cha Hyun Su. It was a quest born from the innocent discovery of his name etched on your wrist on your 14th birthday, that happens to everybody. A revelation that ignited a desire to learn the foreign language on your skin and seek him out once you were of age.

Years later, as you finally set foot in the distant land where you hoped your soulmate resided, the world around you plunged into madness. Humans began transforming into grotesque creatures, their desires mutating them beyond recognition and manifested in grotesque transformations, twisting individuals into monstrous beings. It hadn't been two weeks since your arrival when the first cases of monstrous transformation began to surface. Yet, your determination to find Hyun Su remained unwavering, even as the whispers of transformation echoed in your own soul.

Despite experiencing symptoms of transformation yourself, your determination to find your soulmate eclipsed the monstrous urges clawing at your soul. You became a half-monster, straddling the line between humanity and monstrosity as you navigated the perilous landscape in search of your Soulmate. Your own voice mocking your wish to find your soulmate at every stepp on your journey, but you were determined. You wouldn’t let yourself turn, wouldn’t die in a foreign country, not till you saw him. You hadn’t put yourself throw all this hardship for your other half to simply take the easy way out. But her laughter, that he might have, that all your sacrifice are in vain got to you.

Amidst the desolation, you encountered a lone survivor, a man who had lost his own soulmate to the darkness consuming the world. His tale weighed heavy on your heart, threatening to extinguish the flicker of hope that burned within you. But you pressed on, driven by the promise of love and companionship.

Days turned into nights, and the lines between friend and foe blurred in the merciless wilderness. You formed an unlikely alliance with the lone survivor, finding solace in each other's company as you shared stories of loss and longing. Together, you braved the dangers lurking around every corner, clinging to the hope that your soulmate awaited you somewhere in the chaos.

Returning to your makeshift camp one evening, you witnessed a heartbreaking scene unfold before your eyes. A girl, her face contorted with fear, pushed away your companion. All you could do was to watch helplessly as he succumbed to the monstrous transformation within seconds.

The night air was thick with tension as you stood, tears streaking down your cheeks, confronted by the reality of your friend's transformation. His once-human form twisted and contorted, consumed by the darkness that now ruled the world. Anguish and rage warred within you as you struggled to comprehend the cruelty of fate.

The girl responsible for his transformation stood before you, her expression a mix of fear and defiance. But your grief drowned out any semblance of reason, leaving only a burning desire for retribution. You moved towards her, fueled by a primal need to lash out at the injustice that had stolen your friend from you.

But before you could act, a figure emerged from the shadows, his presence commanding attention. His voice cut through the chaos like a knife, halting your advance with a single word: "Enough."

You turned towards him, your anger still smoldering beneath the surface. "Enough?" you spat, your voice thick with emotion. "Look at him! She turned him! He was a person! He was my friend."

Tears continued to flow unabated as you struggled to articulate the depth of your sorrow. The weight of loss threatened to crush you, but you refused to yield to despair. You had come too far, fought too hard to let tragedy define you.

The boy before you watched, his expression a mirror of your own heartache. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity, as if trying to convey a message that words alone could not express. And then, almost hesitantly, he spoke.

"I am sorry," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Your anger flared anew at his apology, the injustice of it all too much to bear.

„Sorry doesn’t really cut it. He…“ fighting the tears, you continued. „He was fighting. It was hard, but he was holding on, trying. Even after his soulmate turned. Now he is just, flesh trapped by his desire. Just keep her away from me!“ you said. But as you wiped away your tears, you felt a spark of recognition deep within your soul but brushing it away, angryly starting to pack your stuff. The boys eyes burned at your movement, his expression mirroring the anguish in your heart. Watching every muscle you moved. With a trembling voice, he quietly called out your name, and you looked up, shock written across your face. The name etched on your skin suddenly felt heavier, more significant than ever before.

You looked up at him, your gaze locking with his own. His eyes held a mixture of hope and fear, as if uncertain of what your reaction would be. And then, with a voice filled with equal parts disbelief and longing, you spoke his name.

"Cha Hyun Su?"

He nodded slowly, his expression one of quiet acceptance. It was him. Your soulmate. The realization washed over you like a wave, sweeping away the doubts and fears that had plagued you for so long.

Hyun Su’s heart clenched at the sight of your tears, the weight of your journey etched in every drop that fell from your eyes. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out hesitantly, as if afraid you might vanish before his eyes. But you remained rooted to the spot, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

People had made fun of the foreign name on his arm. A lazy foreigner he would never even have the chance to meet they said. But now you were here bevor him, at practically the end of the world, alive and well and speaking his language. “I didn’t know you were still alive. Or even this close to me,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with equal parts disbelief and relief.

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself as a wave of emotions threatened to overwhelm you. “You have no idea what hell I walked through to find you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with raw emotion.

But despite the tears staining your cheeks, there was a glimmer of hope in your eyes, a sense of peace that came with finally finding your soulmate amidst the chaos.

Hyun Su reached out tentatively, his hand trembling as it hovered in the air between you. His gaze flickered with uncertainty, his mind filled with doubts and fears about what you might think of him now that his true nature was revealed.

"I... I don't know if I'm safe to be around," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... I'm not fully human anymore."

Your heart ached at the pain and insecurity reflected in his eyes. Gently, you took his hand in yours, offering him a reassuring smile.

"It doesn't matter," you said softly, your voice filled with conviction. "Nowhere is safe anymore, and you are my soulmate. I just want to finally get to know you. I want to find out myself who you are."

His breath caught in his throat at your words, the weight of your acceptance washing over him like a soothing balm. Slowly, hesitantly, he closed the distance between you, his hand enveloping yours in a gentle embrace.

"You... you're not afraid of me?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You shook your head, your gaze unwavering as you met his eyes.

"No," you replied firmly. "I'm not afraid. In fact, I've been trying to hold onto my humanity, to stay true to myself, all because I wanted to meet you, my soulmate."

A flicker of emotion passed across his features, a mixture of awe and gratitude.

"You... you are like me?" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Yes," you said, squeezing his hand gently. "And now that we've found each other, nothing else matters."

His doubts began to melt away in the warmth of your acceptance, replaced by a newfound sense of hope and belonging. With a sense of determination burning in his heart, he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"I'm here now," he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath against your skin. "And I'm not letting you go."

Your heart swelled with love and gratitude as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. Together, you knew you could face whatever challenges lay ahead, united by a bond that transcended the darkness consuming the world. In each other's embrace, you found solace and strength, ready to take on whatever the future held.

[luffysoulmate]

PROMO TIME ☀️👒🔥

I'm Takemi (I go by my OC's name) and I'm 22 !

I'm Luffy's twinflame/soulmate and we're soulbounded !! (yes our bound is unique and spiritual and it's canon !!! plus I'm almost exactly like him !!)

I like to write (stories, poems, quotes), gush, create memes and I'll also post some art (ONLY COMMISSIONS CAUSE I CAN'T DRAW) and stories about my twin flame journey !!!

Let's be NAKAMAS (moots) !!!

(worst promo post ever but like Luffy I'm messy y'know hehe)

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED HEHEHE 😁 I'LL REBLOG YOUR PROMO POSTS TOO !!

[corvus-witchcraft]

Soulbound Chapter iii-3

In case you missed my very clear and narratively relevant previous post, Soulbound has been updated with the contents of Chapter III, Part 3!

For the uninitiated, this gimmick of posting updates on holidays, and then spinning some absurd yarn about how the update is in fact relevant and celebratory about the day in question kind of became a tradition on the CoG forums...but since Tumblr for some reason does not have collapsible text, it felt obtrusive to put that whole preamble here.

So you guys get your very own update post all by itself, without the comedy bit. But don't worry, it will always be there...waiting for you.

Anyway, the update.

So, this is probably the hardest and most complicated thing I've ever written.

For those who have forgotten, today's update covers the end of Chapter III, mostly the unicorn hunt and the end of your journey in Alfheim. Somehow, this very simple premise exploded into a vast diorama of scores of variables haphazardly welded together into a shape that vaguely resembles a fight. I'm not really sure how that happened either.

All this to say that I had some pretty grand ideas about what I wanted to do with the unicorn fight, and it kind of got away from me.

The story, not the unicorn. Though, it might escape from you, depending on how you play.

Anyway, it's something like 60,000 words in total, which sounds like a lot, but given the amount of branching and variation, I expect that most people will only really see about a third of that.

Of course, I like to think that 20,000 is still a respectable amount for an update—but unless you go rooting around in the code (and god help you if you do), you probably won't realize what a gauntlet writing it was!

I won't get into the nitty-gritty, but needless to say that I don't think I'm ever going to do anything like this again, at least not on the same scale, but it was a fun experience trying to piece it all together. Hopefully, you enjoy the result! And if not, don't worry, it'll all be over soon.

Speaking of things being over soon, you probably don't need to listen to me ramble about this—the upshot is that the game is updated! Next update will (hopefully) come sometime before November, for reasons.

[ponderingsoflife]

Some say, there is a world where there can be two victors.

After killing Bdubs, Grian and Scar return to the desert to rebuild their home. When it’s all said and done they raid the stores of Dogwarts and feast on the meat and wine stores before collapsing into their beds happy and warm with plans to look for a wandering trader the next day to look for another llama for Scar. After all, the world border has dissipated and they have a whole world to explore together (but they’ll always return to the desert at the end of the day).

When Pearl dies Scott can’t bring himself to fight on. They were supposed to win together, and as much as he still wants to win, he refuses to win with Ren or Martyn by his side. The duo kill him while he’s down and the king and his hand finally have their day. Almost everything is burnt down but now that the world border is gone that doesn’t matter. They’ll find a snowy forest and never return, after all, they have an enchanting business that needs rebuilding.

Scott runs away from Pearl because he’s so scared he’ll hurt her in an accident, or worse, get her killed again. When they are the last two left the long journey of healing begins. They can handle being soulbounds, it won’t be romantic but they don’t need it to be. They can just be two little guys who share a house with eighteen different dogs.

Impulse finds himself face to face with two previous winners and despite the rules they’ve set in place, he knows he’s going to lose when the timer ticks down. When the fighting starts though, Martyn and Scott fling themselves off the cliff and into the water below, slowly drowning together. Impulse may have won, but at what cost? He’s alone.

Pearl promised Gem they would win together as soon as they hunted down Scar. So when Pearl falls off an obvious cliff Gem is baffled. Did she do that on purpose? Not wanting to win again? Did she not want to win with Gem? She can’t even begin to wrap her head around it. Luckily Scar is still there with her. They don’t know anything about one another but they’re stuck there together so they might as well start learning about each other.

Scott wanted to win again with Cleo, he really did, but just before the winners could be confirmed he was killed by a zombie, leaving Cleo alone. This was an event, so Cleo isn’t worried about being alone forever like Impulse, but when the next season rolls around they can’t help but look at Scott as if he’s fragile, scared to risk losing him again.

By some twist of fate Joel sees Grian about to blow up the bunker, and he stops him. Jimmy dies to his own hubris later on but Lizzy is still alive. When she kills Tango the game is practically over (though they still make a show of killing the previous victors), and the two can live together finally. In a world of no wars, no fighting, no supernaturals interfering with their day to day life (well aside from the occasional ghost, but Jimmy and Gem are nice to have around from time to time). Maybe they’ll find a nice mesa by the ocean and settle down there.

[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. 

[storyshiftsoulboundblog]

Designs Remade and news

Basically the first two caps of storyshift soulbound are done I want to make the first 5 so I can send it on the internet and start the journey

[ingapotejtoo]

Requiem of Two Souls

an mc enchantment/mcyt worldbuilding lore masterpost

tbh this one has been a long time coming bcus boy oh boy i sure do see people fighting in the trenches that is my acc to dig these up - i am so sorry for what you saw on that journey - so here we are! Feel free to ask any questions you have on these - I'll try to anwser them as best as i can :] all of the posts are linked under 'read more'

ENCHANTMENTS CENTERED - [enchantment tattoos] - [unbreaking expanded] - [soulbound] WORLDBUILDING - [void jumper] - [corrupted vault] - [the rift]

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Could you write an Alfie x Reader where they are soulmates in which when ones skin is marred (wounds, tattoos, that kind of thing), and Y/n is always in pain and getting tattoos she never wanted because of her soulmate getting into fights. This makes her angry with the man she never met. You can choose how this ends :p

Soulbound Scars (Soulmate AU) (Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader) ONESHOT (request)

(UNEDITED)

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4028

Warnings: getting punched in the face 💀 Summary: (The request) A/N: This was acutally a really cute request, I had to write it!

In the gritty heart of Camden town's unforgiving underworld, Alfie Solomons reigned supreme as a feared and formidable gang leader. He was intimately acquainted with the relentless brutality that defined the streets he called home. His life was an unrelenting maelstrom of conflict and power struggles, a ceaseless cycle that left behind a haunting tapestry of scars and pain, etched into both his flesh and his very soul. The very essence of his existence was a testament to the harsh, unyielding reality of his world.

But in the midst of this brutal world, there existed another figure, shrouded in mystery, whose existence was inextricably tied to Alfie's in a most enigmatic way. Y/n, a woman of quiet strength and boundless empathy, bore an unusual burden. She was, in every sense, Alfie's counterpart, linked to him by a connection that defied explanation. They were soulmates, united by an unbreakable bond that allowed them to experience each other's pain, scars, and life's trials.

Y/n's life in Camden Town was far from ordinary. She was a young woman who struggled to secure employment in a society that had little regard for her gender, and the ever-present physical toll her body bore. Her skin was adorned with an intricate mosaic of tattoos, scars, and bruises, yet these marks were not the result of her actions. Rather, they were a reflection of Alfie's turbulent existence, a testament to his unending battles and ceaseless struggles.

As Y/n walked down the crowded streets of Camden Town, she couldn't help but feel the weight of judgmental glances upon her. Her face, adorned with an assortment of bruises and cuts, was a testament to the unspoken battles she fought daily. Every step she took was accompanied by a barrage of side-eyed glances, a mixture of curiosity, concern, and, unfortunately, condemnation.

The passersby, with their fleeting gazes and murmured comments, couldn't comprehend the enigmatic tapestry of pain that adorned her skin. Some showed empathy, recognizing the silent cries for help etched into her features. Others, less understanding, chose to avert their eyes or exchanged hushed words of gossip.

Y/n's path through the bustling streets was a journey marked not only by the physical toll on her body but also by the constant scrutiny of a world that judged without knowing the depth of her struggle. Yet, she persevered, refusing to let the unforgiving stares deter her from navigating the complex tapestry of her life.

Amid the relentless scrutiny she endured while walking the streets of Camden Town, Y/n faced another layer of her unique predicament. Not only was her face a canvas of bruises and cuts, but her body was further adorned with intricate, mysterious tattoos that she had no control over. These tattoos covered her arms in a vivid tapestry of ink, each mark a stark reminder of Alfie's tumultuous life.

The abundance of tattoos left Y/n with a wardrobe of clothing choices that were constrained by the need to conceal the enigmatic symbols etched upon her skin. She would carefully select long-sleeved shirts, even during the warmest days, to hide the visual evidence of her connection to this mysterious man she share her soul with. It was a constant battle between the desire to blend in and the ever-present reality of the inked tapestry beneath her clothing.

Nights were another challenge altogether. Y/n would often wake up, feeling an all-too-familiar sensation of itching along her arms, only to discover the presence of yet another tattoo. These markings appeared as if Alfie's struggles and battles were transferred onto her very skin while she slept. Each morning, she faced the daunting task of examining the new additions, each telling a story of violence and turmoil.

The combination of her conspicuous injuries and the ever-multiplying tattoos made Y/n a walking enigma, a living testament to the strange connection she shared with Alfie. As she navigated the judgmental streets, it was as though her entire existence was a riddle waiting to be unravelled, leaving Y/n isolated in a world that couldn't begin to comprehend the complexities of her situation.

In an era where the challenges of being a woman were already formidable, Y/n's unique circumstances made her life exponentially more difficult. The inherent bias and inequality that women faced were amplified by her conspicuous appearance, which seemed to carry the weight of an even greater burden.

The mere act of stepping out into the unforgiving world became an ordeal, where she had to navigate a labyrinth of prejudice and stereotypes. It was an era where gender roles were strictly defined, and women were expected to conform to society's expectations. Y/n, however, was anything but conventional.

Her path was marred not only by the physical marks that adorned her face and body but also by the constant whispers and judgments that followed her like a shadow. The way she looked challenged the societal norms of the time, rendering her an outlier in an environment that preferred conformity.

Y/n's resilience was undeniable. To stand out in a world that sought to stifle her, to bear the physical and emotional scars of a life she never asked for, took a courage that surpassed the ordinary. Despite the world's judgmental gaze and its relentless attempts to stifle her spirit, Y/n remained determined to carve her own path, defying the limitations placed upon her by society, and, most notably, the mysterious connection she shared with this rebel.

Y/n had never come face to face with the man, but an undeniable aversion had taken root deep within her. It was a visceral sensation, a loathing that had no rational explanation but ran through her like a vein of unyielding steel. 

Y/n's life had been intricately woven with the presence of a man she had never met, and the intensity of her feelings toward him was palpable. While the connection between their souls was undeniable, she remained in the dark about his identity, an enigma that both frustrated and intrigued her.

The absence of a face, a name, or any defining feature to attach her emotions to only fueled her disdain. She couldn't help but loathe the man who had unknowingly brought a cascade of chaos into her existence. It was as if her life had been entangled with his in a relentless dance of pain and suffering, and she had been given no choice in the matter.

The absence of answers, and the inability to pinpoint the source of her torment, was a constant source of frustration. Her heart was burdened by the knowledge that there was a soulmate out there, somewhere, who held the key to her mysterious existence.

Yet, despite the resentment and the ambiguity of it all, there was a peculiar undercurrent of curiosity that lingered within her. She couldn't help but wonder about the man who was the silent orchestrator of her suffering, yearning to understand the intricacies of their shared connection and the profound impact it had on her life.

-

On an overcast afternoon in Camden Town, Y/n was strolling down the bustling streets, her steps guided by a peculiar yet undeniable pull. She'd been to Camden countless times, weaving through the vibrant marketplace, but today was different. A magnetic sensation drew her towards a particular establishment she'd often passed without a second thought.

The bar, a dimly lit, weathered haunt tucked away in an inconspicuous corner, beckoned her like a siren's call. Its façade was adorned with faded neon signs and a slightly cracked window, offering a glimpse of a cosy interior where the hum of conversation mingled with the distant strum of a guitar.

Without knowing why, Y/n found herself standing in front of the entrance, the tattered awning casting a shadow over her features. Her heart raced, her curiosity piqued. It was as if an invisible hand guided her, a force she couldn't resist. 

She pushed the weathered door open and stepped inside, the scent of aged wood and alcohol enveloping her senses. The bar was a time capsule, frozen in an era of dimly lit intimacy, a stark contrast to the chaotic streets outside. It was a place where stories were etched into every surface, where secrets were shared over drinks, and where the past seemed to linger in every corner.

Amid the dimly lit interior of the bar, Y/n's footsteps were guided by an inexplicable force, leading her toward a specific corner that seemed to beckon her with an eerie allure. It was as if an unseen hand had gently pushed her in that direction, while an electric sensation sent shivers down her spine.

In that corner, bathed in a faint, golden glow of a solitary overhead lamp, sat a large, bearded man. His hulking presence was accentuated by a formidable frame that seemed to fill the space around him. A thick, grizzled beard covered most of his face, and a distinctive porkpie hat crowned his head.

The room around her faded into a distant murmur as she locked eyes with the mysterious figure. There was an air of enigma that surrounded him, an aura of intrigue that had lured her to this very spot. His gaze, beneath the shadow of his hat, was intense and penetrating, as if he had been waiting for her all along.

The atmosphere in that corner of the bar felt pregnant with significance, as though their destinies were inexorably entwined. Y/n stood there, captivated by the presence of the bearded man, and the unspoken connection between them seemed to hum with an undeniable, almost magnetic force.

As Y/n stood there, locked in the intense gaze of the bearded man with the porkpie hat, a profound realization washed over her. It was as if time had come to a standstill, and the world around them had faded into insignificance. The magnetic force that had drawn her to this corner of the bar, the inexplicable connection she had felt, was crystallizing before her eyes.

The bearded man's eyes, beneath the shadow of his hat, held a gaze so intense that it seemed to pierce through her very soul. In those deep, penetrating eyes, Y/n saw a reflection of the same enigmatic pull she had felt, an electric connection that transcended reason.

At that moment, their souls seemed to align, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this man was her soulmate. It wasn't a matter of mere coincidence or chance. It was a profound connection, one that had bound them together long before they had even met.

As the realization dawned, the bearded man's mesmerized expression mirrored her own astonishment. The unspoken recognition between them was palpable, a bridge of understanding that needed no words. It was as if the universe itself had orchestrated this meeting, a fateful collision of two souls destined to be together.

In the hushed corner of the bar, amid the dim light and the enigmatic atmosphere, Y/n and her newfound soulmate shared a moment of silent, mutual acknowledgement. It was a moment of clarity, an epiphany that transcended the boundaries of time and place, and in that moment, their souls danced to the same rhythm, forever united by an unbreakable bond.

As the profound realization of their soulmate connection washed over them, the bearded man with the porkpie hat rose from his seat with a deliberate, almost reverent slowness. His movements were graceful, as though he were stepping onto sacred ground, each step bringing him closer to the enigmatic woman who had walked into his life like a long-lost melody.

Y/n, too, was not to be outdone by the gravity of this moment. Her heart raced as she felt an irresistible force drawing her toward the bearded man. With determined strides, she marched up to him, her eyes locked onto his, and her pace unyielding. The world around them seemed to dissolve into an indistinct blur, leaving only the two of them in the spotlight of destiny.

The onlookers in the bar could sense that something extraordinary was unfolding before their eyes, a connection that transcended the ordinary boundaries of time and space. It was as if they were witnessing the reunion of two souls that had been apart for an eternity.

Despite the magnetic and mesmerizing connection between Y/n and the bearded man, there was still a torrent of emotions that coursed through her. The hatred she had harboured for him, fueled by the inexplicable nature of their soulmate connection, surged within her.

Without warning, as the bearded man stood before her, Y/n's anger and frustration reached a boiling point. With a sudden, fierce motion, she swung her fist and landed a forceful punch squarely on the man's nose. The impact was a resounding blow, a manifestation of her pent-up emotions.

As her fist connected with the man's nose, the shockwaves of pain cascaded through their interconnected souls. Y/n felt not only the force of her own punch but also the searing pain of her soulmate's nose as if it were her own. The sensation was overwhelming, a shared agony that transcended the boundaries of their individual experiences.

In the dimly lit corner of the bar, their connection was brought to the forefront, not only in the inexplicable recognition of their bond but also in the shared pain they now bore. Y/n's actions were a culmination of the complex emotions that had swirled within her, and the bearded man, bewildered and in pain, held his nose, the realization of their unique connection etched into every facet of their beings.

The bar's patrons were taken aback as a young woman made her entrance, her presence exuding an air of defiance that seemed to defy explanation. The audacious act of punching the formidable gang leader in the face sent shockwaves through the establishment, where the norm was to avoid eye contact with such a powerful figure.

A collective gasp seemed to hang in the air as the punch landed, and the aggressive gang leader was rocked by the force of the unexpected blow. The room fell into a hushed silence, the dimly lit atmosphere amplifying the intensity of the moment. The patrons exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions torn between concern and curiosity.

"That's for not fucking taking care of yourself, you bloody asshole!" Y/n screamed at the man, the words laced with frustration, her own blood trickling from her injured nose. Her emotions had finally found an outlet, and they erupted in a torrent of anger and pain.

The gang leader, despite the hit he had just taken, managed to crack a grin and release a hearty laugh, the sudden absurdity of the situation not lost on him. ”Fucking ‘ell.”

His amusement, although unexpected, seemed to shift the tension in the room, eliciting a mixture of uncertain chuckles from some of the patrons. 

"You pack quite a fucking punch, don't you, dear?" The bearded man remarked, his voice a mixture of amusement and respect as if he had gained a newfound appreciation for the fiery spirit that resided within the young woman who had just rocked his world.

"Yeah, I can feel that," Y/n replied, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm, although her nose throbbed with an intensity that mirrored the exchange of emotions and pain they were sharing. The connection between them was undeniable, transcending the physical and into the realm of something far more profound. As they stood there, two souls locked in a complex dance of emotions, the world around them seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the enigmatic connection that bound them together.

"Let's get out of here, yeah?" her soulmate suggested, his words carrying an unspoken urgency as if they were drawn together by a force that extended beyond the confines of the bar. 

"What's your name, las’?" he asked, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Y/n," she replied, her own lips curving into a hesitant yet genuine smile. It was a simple exchange of names, but at that moment, it felt like the beginning of a new chapter in their intertwined destinies.

"Alfie," the man introduced himself, the weight of his name now matched by the weight of their shared connection.

Y/n offered a small nod, a sense of relief washing over her. Finally knowing the name of the man who had unintentionally been putting her through a rollercoaster of emotions brought a strange comfort. The enigmatic puzzle pieces of their lives were beginning to fall into place, even if it meant navigating an uncertain and unconventional path together.

"Sorry 'bout the..." Y/n began, her voice trailing off as she lifted her hand and mimicked a small punching motion to indicate the earlier altercation.

Her soulmate chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he understood the gesture. "No need to apologize, love," he said, his voice tinged with warmth. “I probably deserved that.”

"Yeah! You fucking well deserved it, you've made my life a living hell!" Y/n exclaimed, her laughter ringing with a mixture of relief and exasperation. The absurdity of the situation seemed to dawn on her as she continued, "No one's gonna hire a woman who looks like she's getting beaten every other day, and don't even get me started on these bloody tattoos." Her words were a blend of frustration and humour, a testament to the unique challenges she had faced due to her mysterious connection with Alfie.

Alfie couldn't help but join in her laughter, his own laughter resonating with the understanding of the bizarre reality they had been thrust into. "Well, you certainly don't mince your words, love," he remarked with a grin, finding an unexpected camaraderie in the woman who had just punched him in the face. It was as if, in that moment, their shared experiences and shared pain had forged a connection that transcended their initial animosity.

"Well, looking like you, you could imagine why," Y/n replied with a wry smile, her gaze shifting from her own scars and bruises to Alfie's imposing figure. It was a moment of shared understanding, a recognition that their connection had created a unique bond, neither one had anticipated.

"Well, you can work for me if you'd like," Alfie offered, his smile carrying a mixture of genuine kindness and a touch of playfulness. It was an unexpected proposition, given their tumultuous introduction, but it seemed to fit the absurdity of their situation perfectly.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, the offer taking her by surprise. "Work for you? Doing what, exactly?"

"Well, I could always use a secretary," Alfie mused, a spontaneous idea forming in his mind.

Y/n arched an eyebrow, considering the offer. "Is it legal?" she asked, her practicality coming to the forefront.

"Does it really matter?" Alfie replied with a sly smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement. The legality of the situation seemed to be a secondary concern in the face of their newfound partnership, and the unconventional offer only added to the intrigue of the strange and extraordinary connection they now shared.

They halted just outside the building, its imposing exterior betraying the secrecy that lay within. Alfie held the heavy door open, allowing Y/n to step inside.

"What is this place?" Y/n inquired, her gaze scanning the interior with curiosity.

Alfie hesitated for a moment before he answered with a cryptic smile, "My bakery."

As Y/n took in the surroundings, it became evident that it was far from being a conventional bakery. The heady scent of spirits and the sight of distilling equipment told a different story. It was a distillery, hidden beneath the facade of a bakery, and it held the promise of adventures, secrets, and perhaps a partnership that defied expectations.

Alfie guided her through the labyrinthine distillery, the aroma of spirits filling the air as they navigated the maze of barrels and machinery. Eventually, they reached his office, where he motioned for Y/n to take a seat on a well-worn couch. With a nod, he disappeared briefly to retrieve something from his desk.

Seated in his office, Y/n felt a sense of anticipation and curiosity. The air was heavy with the secrets held within the distillery's walls, and she couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead.

As Alfie busied himself, Y/n decided to shed her heavy jacket, the worn leather falling to the floor. It revealed the intricate tapestry of tattoos that adorned her arms and shoulders, each one a testament to the shared pain and connection she had with Alfie. Her short-sleeved dress showcased the artwork etched into her skin, a silent testament to the unique bond they shared and the scars that painted their lives.

Alfie returned to the room, a low, appreciative whistle escaping his lips as his eyes traced the intricate tattoos that adorned Y/n's arms. "Nice tattoos," he remarked, a playful lilt in his voice.

Y/n couldn't help but smirk in response. "Yeah, you're a real artist, aren't you?" Her words held a teasing quality, a recognition of the shared journey they were embarking upon.

Their banter, filled with humour and unspoken understanding, seemed to define the beginning of their unique partnership. It was a partnership that transcended the ordinary, rooted in the inexplicable connection they had discovered, and the world outside the distillery seemed to fade into insignificance as their shared adventure began.

Alfie returned with a bowl of water and a small towel, his actions reflecting a surprising tenderness. He dipped the cloth into the water, wringing it out slightly before approaching Y/n. Gently, he began to wipe away the dried blood that clung above her lip, his touch careful and considerate.

Y/n watched him silently, a mix of emotions swirling within her. The contrast between the fearsome gang leader she had initially encountered and this side of him, which displayed care and concern, was stark and intriguing. The unspoken bond they shared was revealing itself in unexpected ways, forging a connection that transcended their tumultuous introduction.

"Thanks," Y/n whispered, her voice laced with a hint of gratitude as Alfie continued to clean the dried blood from her face.

Alfie rose from his seat, a soft smile playing at his lips as he emptied the bowl, the remnants of their shared pain vanishing with the crimson-stained water. With a quick swipe, he also cleaned the blood that had found its way into his beard. 

Y/n leaned back on the couch, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. "So... when do I start work?" she inquired, her tone a mixture of anticipation and eagerness as if she was ready to embark on this new and unconventional chapter of her life.

Alfie paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on her before he answered, his words carrying a sense of excitement. "Tomorrow work for you?" The invitation was met with a nod from Y/n, and the distillery office seemed to brim with the promise of shared adventures, unspoken secrets, and a partnership that was forged in the most peculiar of circumstances.

-

And so, as they embarked on this unique story together, Y/n and Alfie found themselves bound not only by shared pain but by a connection that defied explanation. Their partnership, born from an unconventional introduction, took them through the labyrinthine world of the distillery and the tumultuous streets of Camden town.

In each other, they discovered not just an understanding of the scars and bruises that marked their bodies, but a shared resilience and strength that allowed them to navigate a world where the boundaries between pain and pleasure, danger and intrigue, blurred into something altogether extraordinary.

As they ventured into the uncharted territory of their newfound partnership, the scars that painted their lives, and the enigmatic connection that bound them together seemed to promise a future filled with unexpected adventures, challenges, and perhaps, a love that transcended the ordinary. The pain they shared had given birth to an extraordinary bond, one that would forever unite their souls in the chaos of Camden town.

- A/N: Had absolutely no idea how to end this off but I'm happy with what I've written. I hope you enjoyed this one-shot as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know they didn't interact much until the end but...it's still cute maybe Don't know how they wanted me to write this request but I hope they're happy. But keep requesting as I really enjoy them. :) 💚

[wincestreversebang]

2024 Master Post

Title: Soulbound Enchantment Artist: midnightsilver Author: masoena Other Pairing: mention of ofc/omc Rating: Explicit Warnings/Spoilers: Non-consensual groping, explicit canon-typical violence, non-consensual body transformation Summary: Sam and Dean wake up in a lush, green landscape; a world decidedly not where they remember being before. Sam also realizes he is no longer human as they embark on an adventure to figure out where and why they are in this place. The path to solving this case is dotted with tender, angst-filled, violent and scary moments as the Winchesters work together to figure out how to save themselves in more ways than one. Art: Ao3 Story: Ao3

Title: You Circle Me In the Night Artist: morokollisyo Author: theteacupunicorn Rating: Mature Warnings/Spoilers: Canon-typical violence, violence happening to a sixteen-year-old Sam Summary: Dean plopped down next to Sam. “Guess I’ll be taking the cot tonight, huh?”

“You don’t have to,” Sam said at once. “I don’t want you to get kicked out of your bed because I couldn’t dodge some ghost.”

Dean smiled. “Well, can’t say I’m complaining.” He got comfortable in his bed, only a couple inches from Sam, and promptly shoved his pillow in Sam’s face.

“Dean!” Sam sputtered, whacking Dean with the pillow once he could see again.

Dean cackled, but they both froze when John’s stern voice resounded. “Boys, settle down.”

Dean took his pillow back from Sam and tucked it under his head. “Sorry,” he said in a small voice. He looked confused again, like he had in the car when John had told him not to worry about Sam’s injury. Art:Live Journal | Ao3 Story:Ao3

Title: Fixing a Hole Artist: i-already-know-im-going-2-hell Author: amypond45 Rating: R Warnings/Spoilers: Season 2 AU, Wincest (explicit at times) Summary: This story is a retelling of Season 2, starting when Dean reveals what Dad said to him in the hospital at the beginning of “Hunted”. Instead of running off, Sam confesses that he’s had a premonition about this very moment. He already knows what Dean’s about to tell him, as well as their entire, bloody future until the moment Sam jumps into the pit. As he reveals his visions to Dean, it soon becomes clear that they need to find a way to prevent the death and destruction laid out for them in those visions. One thing leads to another, with revelations of feelings long buried deep. Can Sam, with Dean’s help, find a way to avoid the coming apocalypse, just by falling in love? Or are they destined to retravel the road to distrust that leads to their own demise and the end of the world — or the saving of it after years of loss and sacrifice? And if they stop it from happening, what does that say about them as men, as brothers, and as heroes? Art:Ao3 Story:Live Journal | Ao3

Title: Ubi Amor, Ibi Dolor Artist: deeranger Author: hello-starlingfics Other Pairing: past Sam/Lucifer Rating: E Warnings/Spoilers: Rape/Noncon (described and in the past), Violence, Torture, PTSD. Sexual activity between the boys with consent from neither. Summary: While investigating a possible coven, Sam and Dean get a lead: an abandoned factory just outside of town. When they check it out, things go sideways fast. Art:Twitter | Tumblr Story:Ao3

Title: Crafting Happiness Artist: StepicliffeGrey Author: SamandDean76 Rating: Explicit Warnings/Spoilers: Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series, Men of Letters Bunker, Canon Compliant, Story Runs For The Duration Of The Series, Pre-Series Sam, Dean, & John, Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, First Time Summary: Nine-year old Sam had fifty cents and a mission. To find a hidden treasure in the thrift store that he could make his own. It would end up taking him his entire life, but what he found at the bottom of that dingy bin became a lifeline that helped to guide him on a journey that few others could even begin to imagine. Through all the ups and downs, and with Dean ever by his side, Sam did his best to craft some happiness for not only himself, but all those he cherished. Art:Ao3 Story:Ao3

Title: I Was Born To Press My Head Between Your Shoulder Blades Artist: MidnightSilver Author: TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving Rating: Mature Warnings/Spoilers: Canon divergence, soulmate identifying marks, reference canon up til season 5, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, description of canon level violence, djinn, allusions to dying of dehydration, pining, men kissing, sappy ending Summary: In a world where only soulmates can see their soulmarks, Dean has one curving around his finger. His soulmate on the other hand doesn’t have one.

Except maybe he does Art:Ao3 Story:Ao3

Title: Vampire Cotton Candy Artist: Bluefire986 Author: Masoena Rating: NC-17 Warnings/Spoilers: Rape/Non-con (not between Sam/Dean), explicit violence, temporary character death (transformation to creature) Summary: In this story Sam hits a wolf at the outset of season 8 causing him and Amelia to meet under different circumstances as he transforms into a werewolf later on. Dean returns from purgatory and immediately figures out what Sam is, together they try and work out this new normal. Dean being kidnapped by vampires turns their already crazy upside down once more as they are both hurt in the process and must fight to be free once more. Art:Live Journal | Ao3 Story:Ao3

Title: Pain In My Heart Artist: bluefire986​ Author: hello-starlingfics​ Rating: Mature Warnings/Spoilers: Canon-typical torture and violence, non-consensual touching and kissing. One mention of offscreen suicides early in the fic. Summary: Post-4x16 On The Head Of A Pin.

Dean stomped back to their motel room alone. This hunt was a bust and Sam had disappeared as soon as they’d realized that it hadn’t been a pair of witchcraft-related murders, but a suicide pact between two people with a history of mental health issues longer than even Sam’s arm. It had been a depressing and frustrating day, and Sam bailing on him made everything worse. Art:Live Journal | Ao3 Story:Ao3

Title: Hollow Pursuits Artist: MidnightSilver Author: Kestra_Tori Rating: M Warnings/Spoilers: Public Nudity, Weirdcest, Incestuous Thoughts Summary: Odd deaths bring the boys to a placed called the Happy Hippie Hollow. To Dean’s chagrin it’s a nudist colony. Sam rolls with it. Art:Ao3 Story:Tumblr | Ao3

[burdigel]

Theories and Headcannons Pt. 23

So this weekly theory brought by yours truely recovered explores the journey and character development Impulse experiences throughout the multiple iterations of the Life Series. His passage throughout the five (technically six) canonical seasons stretches and continues Impulse's storyline and relationships dedicated to his allies, enemies, teammates and soulmate.

Beginning with Third Life, Impulse was often deemed as the betrayer and an informant for the Crastle against the Red Army. Severing the relationships built between the members of Dogwarts as the supplier and eventually eliminating the final life of an once fellow teammates Etho, during the finall battle of Dogwarts. Poetically, Impulse was slaughtered by his ally, who was offered a clock for loyalty and a guarantee into the finishing three. Finishing fifth, Impulse also seems to be short of conquering the other contestants and becoming victorous; a trend that carries across multiple seasons.

In the subsequent season, Last Life, Impulse joined Southlanders with an astounding total of five members but all the more potential for betrayal. Beginning as the scavanger for the Southlanders, Impulse was able to steal sugarcane from the Scottage and other bases thus disrupting the other teams' potential for a sugarcane monopoly. The tranquility between his team is soon lost in the later sessions where Mumbo proceeds to sabotage Impulse whilst visiting his ghast farm resulting in his yellow life lost and implosion of the Southlanders shortly after. Even with his band of brahathers, betrayal still lingered with Impulse and even with his teammates of his. The soulbounded otherwise known as the Canary's Miner (Mumbo).

The following season Double Life, bonded the participants into groups of two resulting in their health bar being shared across all the sessions. Impulse's randomised pairing was ironically with Bdubs, the trusted who backstabbed the betrayer. Past history aside, both contestants were the first soulbound to find each other establishing the bond and trust between them and managed to secure third place in the final battle against the Divorce Quartet.

The trails of betrayal still continue through Limited Life where in the stand-off between the final three opponments including Scott and Martyn and all three decided to find the victor with an equal solution. Instead, Martyn overcome by the bloodlust of time, first burnt Scott and then annihilated Impulse with his sword before he could recover from the shock of the broken treaty.

The subsequent and current (canon) season of the Life Series, Secret Life was the turnaround for Impulse's continuous promblem of betrayal plaguing him and his allies. Teaming with Gem and Scott, he was able to devote himself and keep a strong alliance that sustained his trust and their trust in him. This trust strengthened over the season until near the end of the season where both him and Scott sacrificed their yellow-life status to lengthen Gem's health.

Throughout the entirety of the Life Series, Impulse had been burdened by the trail of betrayal leeching onto him, his teammates and allies until it was finally gone. Slowly degenerating over the course of the following installments. His story and character development once etched with betrayal now only retain the tragedies of his doomed attempts to become an established victor.

[melaniem54]

Review:  Born to Be Legends: A Soulbound Universe Novella by Hailey Turner

Rating: 4.5 🌈 As author Hailey Turner says, this is an absolute treasure of a gift to her fans, those who love and have followed the long journey Patrick Collins and Jonothon de Vere from their original book and meeting to this their final chapter where they get married, their happy epilogue.  Many of the favorites are also in attendance and we get a quick drama before the ending.  It’s been…

[fountainpenguin]

"Always hear the same kind of story; break your nose and they'll just say 'Sorry...'" (x)

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Pixels Imperfect series ~ Double Life - Boat Boys

“Canadian Idiot” - 23k words

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Paper Boats [Etho & Joel series]

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

I've been drawing preview images for some of my 'fics that didn't have them yet. Here's a pretty post for a personal favorite!

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Summary: Etho is a fox hybrid who aggros on people who cause him damage. During Double Life, Joel and Etho are soulbound. And Joel causes Etho a lot of damage. The mob-strengthening full moon doesn’t help.

AKA - That one 'fic where Etho bites Joel a bunch of times and Joel stomachs it like the good little soulmate he is.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Canadian Idiot

"Where is Etho? Why hasn't he come home? I'm SO worried…"

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Act 1. Scene 2. Introductions are behind them; the Hero's Journey has begun. They balance on the precipice hand in hand, except they're nowhere near hand in hand because Joel has done nothing wrong and Etho's about to bring him crashing down. With a label like Act 1, Scene 2 melting in your brain, you're practically encouraged to overstep; make mistakes. Isn't that a proper story outline? You start by introducing goals. Then faults. 'Tell me one thing your protagonist does wrong…'

It's Etho, not Joel, who does something wrong. Wrong and immoral and without consent, and he's shaking - he's shaking - as he slips his hand above the milk-white bed sheets. He slightly cranes his neck, lifting just a little from his pillow. He's already squirmed closer to Joel more than he'd admit to anyone outside the Boat. Joel's cradled against him, stomachs and knees and hips flush and ticklish and warm. Joel's hand rests atop the blankets. Atop Etho's chest, pretty much.

And Etho's itchy, pain swelling deep inside. His breath's all clogged in the back of his throat. A problem that Joel doesn't have, because Joel's some kind of insect hybrid and he breathes through the spiracles down his torso… which Etho can feel both on the outside of his legs (because Joel is shirtless under the blankets) and threaded through his own body (because they share every flickery touch, even in the way they breathe).

I wonder if Joel ever gets sick of feeling "my" breath in the back of his mouth. That's gotta be a weird feeling when he doesn't have lungs…

In Act 1, Scene 2, Etho initiates the Rising Action. He lays his own hand on the far side of Joel's. His eyes are glowing - the candles and furnaces are glowing too - and it's warm and rosy and golden brown down in the depths of The Relation. Etho's shaking as he nudges Joel's fingers higher up the blankets, from their random flop (is it random?) across Joel's chest and up to Etho's neck. Conflicting pixels bristle when they come into contact. They tense up, even while Joel stays sleepy and mild-mannered. Etho stares down at those gleaming pixels and watches them re-situate themselves, building up their little barrier so they stay firmly Joel's and his own pixels remain firmly Etho's.

There's unwavering trust in the way Joel lets himself sleep, curled against Etho's side. The pixels in their legs blended together long ago, making mermaids out of them. They don't even itch. They're perfectly melted inside each other, heels and toes overlapping as easily as the edges of their hitboxes do.

Etho can feel the easy flutter of mingled bits and pieces shifting between them, pixels bumping and evaluating their neighbors and occasionally switching back and forth. He's got bits that used to belong to Joel in his ankles, probably. The colors have probably already changed over. You wouldn't even be able to tell. It's nothing. It's normal. Everybody does this. They're sharing a bed. They're sharing hearts and health and pain; exchanging pixels during hitbox overlap isn't nearly as weird.

It's not like I'm anxious and 65 anymore. I've got a couple thousand years in me. I've shared my bed before. This isn't weird.

It's not like this in the singleplayer, though, where he sleeps alone.

And it's not like this on Hermitcraft. Where he sleeps alone.

And it wasn't like this in his wool castle on 3rd Life. Where he slept alone.

And it wasn't like this in Last Life. Bdubs slept on the far side of their shared room, his narcoleptic phantom soul knocking him out cold hours before Etho crept to bed. And slept alone.

Etho squirms, which blurs his foot with Joel's and sends a static ripple up his leg. He stops so it won't seize up in the pit behind his knee. His pixels need a minute to orient again, sluggish in their sleep just like the softly breathing Joel. The air is stuffy inside The Relation's lower room. Etho already pulled his mask off before bed; it lies (rumpled and unfolded) on the crafting table to his left. Though dry, the air is cool against his exposed skin. His tongue traces across the curve of each and every pointed tooth inside his mouth.

I have to.

The closest he'll come to voicing it. He tries to fold his hands away. He grips his own wrist, grinding it in the wrinkles of blankets tucked against his stomach. Candles flicker in the edges of his vision. He stares across the captains' quarters, rotating his hand back and forth, forcing it to press his stomach. To calm some kind of hunger that doesn't stem from there.

He does not personify the aggro instincts creeping up his spine. They don't envelop him in words. Offering words to the thought would mean caving in, admitting its strength and hold against him. Etho stares without blinking at the far wall and twists his wrist in that space between stomach and guts. Tight. Unyielding. Firm.

It's never been this bad on-server before…

It's twisted. It writhes in him, like a snake dropped down his pants, spiraled around his leg, and looped to slither up his spine and wrap around his throat. It's a full-body shiver that leaves him opening and closing his hands, palming his knees through the bed sheets. He has really pointy knees. Etho presses, rubbing his hands up and down and all around in circles, but it doesn't help.

He needs to. This. He needs- he just does. He can curl his legs and writhe and grimace all he wants to, but he can't hold it in forever… like Bdubs can't help but lunge when Etho's pushing at the boundary of long nights with no sleep.

Can't.

He sinks down in the pillows, exhaling, and tugs the white covers of the bed up to his chest again. It shifts Joel's arm. Etho can feel it through the blankets. He can feel the touch of soft, carefully crafted wool on the back of that hand as clearly as his own. Joel's expertise with wool leaves absolutely no question that he thrives on the Empires server, weaving banners on a loom. There's no itchiness to the blankets. They're so soft, they may as well be silk or cream.

This ship feels like a cake, lit by the candles on the wooden shelves. As the wind gusts against the outside of their base, it creaks the boards and Etho shivers, shifting one leg a little tighter between both of Joel's. Pillager grunts carry down the hill. He can hear their distant pacing. The constant loading of crossbow bolts. The way they mutter, bending heads.

Do pillagers ever snuggle with their friends late at night? Maybe not. They're just mobs; maybe they aren't programmed with a sleep schedule. He's never charged inside an outpost to find them startled and fumbling out of bed.

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]