#it's okay they're soulmates and find each other again in any other universe :)

[edenesth]

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

Dear Soulmate

I'm sorry it took me so long, anon! I didn't know how to approach this and was waiting for a friend to do it first🙈

For my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast💖

Choi San — soulmate au (idiots to lovers)

In a world where soulmates exist, most people discover their other halves before reaching twenty-five, you struggle to find yours, even when he had been right in front of you all along. You've witnessed those around you revelling in the bliss of finding their destined partners, all the while blindly awaiting your own.

"I cannot believe this, I'm dying alone!" you cried.

"Pooks, he'll come when the timing's right, I just know it," Eve, your closest friend and platonic soulmate, reassured you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you poured out your frustration. Despite being on the cusp of turning 26, your soulmate remained elusive.

"How did you and Hwa find each other again?" you asked, desperate for answers.

Eve sighed, "Whenever one of us gets hurt, a flower tattoo appears on the other in the same spot of their body. You know how clumsy I am, he found me through those blossoms. But each soulmate pair has their own unique connection. Haven't you felt anything special?"

See, in this world with soulmates, each pair discovers their connection in their own way. There's no universal formula, and you despised that fact vehemently. It only added unnecessary complexity to the already challenging quest for love.

Your parents had found each other through their inner voices, where their internal voices are the other's instead of their own. Your sister had found her soulmate through a compass on her body that led her to where her other half is.

And then there was you. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Absolutely nothing at all.

And as your birthday drew near this year, panic set in. You'd soon be a year older than the age when most people found their soulmates. Maybe you didn't have one, maybe he died, maybe he got aborted as a foetus, maybe—

"Woah, woah, just take a deep breath, everything will be okay," your friend reassured, trying her best to help in any way possible, "Hey, didn't you say you've been having a lot of dreams lately? And it's always that same dream?"

You blew a raspberry in frustration, "Yeah, but I doubt my recent dreams have anything to do with my soulmate, assuming I even have one. They're always about that art museum I go to on weekends. I think it's just because I spend so much time there."

She pondered for a moment, "Wait a minute, didn't you mention that San guy you always see there? What if—"

"Oh, hell no," you exclaimed, shuddering at the possibility of that annoyingly gorgeous mountain of a man being your destined lover, "I'd rather be alone forever than end up with someone like him."

It all happened on a day when you sought solace at the museum after a taxing week at school. Exhausted from dealing with incompetent classmates and antagonistic professors, you longed for a moment of peace as you approached your cherished spot in the corner. But to your dismay, you discovered an ignorant man occupying not just one seat, but the entire bench with his belongings. And not just any bench, your bench, the one everyone knew better than to occupy.

So you did the first thing that came to mind, you might have uttered some unkind words out of irritation. Looking back, you acknowledge it was all very unnecessary, considering it was likely his first visit to the museum and he clearly didn't realise it was your spot. However, your pride prevented you from admitting fault.

Consequently, he responded with equal unpleasantness. Even the museum guards had to intervene before things escalated into a fight. Like dealing with children, they persuaded both of you to share the bench since there was clearly more than enough space for two.

You adamantly refused to yield your spot and relocate, asserting your presence since you were here first. Similarly, it seemed his foolish pride prevented him from budging as well; thus, you both found yourselves locked in a silent standoff, exchanging wary glances as you engaged in a weekly silent war.

"Ugh, was hoping I wouldn't have to see your face today," San sneered, earning a glare from you as you settled down beside him. You were running slightly late, having trouble getting up after yet another frustrating dream, one slightly more annoying than usual.

Deliberately nudging his bag aside with irritation, you narrowed your eyes, "You wish, loser. This spot is mine, and it's staying that way."

He smirked in response, "Someone's in a foul mood, but then again, when are you not? Hope it's not because of that dream where your precious bench gets snatched away for good."

"Shut the hell up—"

You stopped short, a sudden realisation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You hadn't shared that dream with anyone, not even Eve. No one should know about it except... No freaking way. He couldn't possibly be the one you've been waiting for all this time. It seemed too absurd to be true. Why, out of all people, would fate pair you with this insufferable, infuriating, irksome yet undeniably attractive, bastard?

"Surprise, genius. It's me, your soulmate."

"I knew," he confessed, his voice carrying frustration and resignation, "I knew from the moment I saw you that you were my other half. That's why I came here in the first place, why I was in this exact spot."

Your breath hitched as his words sank in. All this time, he had known, yet he had still chosen to engage in your petty conflicts.

"But when I met you," he continued, "I was excited, hopeful even. But your attitude, your stubbornness... it's unbearable. As much as I feel the pull towards you, I can't ignore how immensely annoyed I am by your behaviour."

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

"I know that if I had a choice in who my soulmate is," he admitted, his gaze intense, "it would never be you."

After a moment of processing his words, you gritted your teeth in anger, "Well, joke's on you, buddy. I don't want you either. Maybe it would be best for both of us if you stop showing up here from now on."

Days turned into weeks, and true to your request, San ceased his visits to the museum. At first, you felt a strange sense of relief, but soon, that relief morphed into a tumult of conflicting emotions.

You didn't know how to feel. Did you truly mean what you said, or were those words simply born out of anger? Your emotions were a tangled mess. On one hand, you had just turned away your soulmate after yearning for his presence for so long. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the resentment that it had to be him, of all people. Part of you longed to be near him, to reconcile and embrace your destiny. But another part recoiled at the thought, recoiled at the frustration his presence brought.

Unbeknownst to you, San wasn't doing much better. His heart felt hollow, the absence of your presence leaving a gaping void. He tried to carry on with his life as before, but the weight of your rejection hung heavy on his shoulders. But his pride also kept him from reaching out to you.

He suppressed the pull towards you, buried it beneath layers of denial and indifference. But no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, your essence lingered in his dreams, haunting him with visions of what could have been.

Then, one day, fate intervened in a way neither of you could have predicted. You fell ill with food poisoning and ended up in the hospital. In a panic, San saw it in his dream, a vision of you lying pale and weak in a hospital bed. Without hesitation, he raced to your side, his heart pounding with fear. As he stood in the hospital room, watching over you, he realised the depth of his feelings. Despite everything, he couldn't deny the truth any longer. You were his soulmate, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you.

You furrowed your brows at his unexpected appearance, "What the hell are you doing here? Who invited you?"

His heart sank at your coldness, but before he could form a response, Eve intervened, giving you a playful smack on the shoulder, "Stop it, you! He came all this way, and you're still going to be mean to him?" Turning to San with a warm smile, she continued, "You must be San! I'm Eve, her best friend. It's nice to finally meet you. Oh, and please don't take her words to heart. She likes to pretend as if she hadn't been dying to see you again."

Blushing furiously at her blunt revelation, you shot her a glare, but she simply tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, "Behave yourself. I'll be back shortly after settling the bill with Hwa," she said, brushing past San. As she passed him, she gave a polite nod, "Please take care of her for me, won't you?"

"Of course, Eve," he replied, nodding in return.

As soon as your friend left the room, he took a step closer, his tone serious, "Listen, I'm tired of playing games. I came here because I realised I can't bear to lose you again. So, tell me if you feel the same right now. If you still want me gone, I'll leave and never show my face around you ever again."

His words struck a chord, and you couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He couldn't resist the pull any longer, sitting down beside you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you. Relief flooded through him as he felt you relax in his embrace.

"I don't want to lose you again either. I'm sorry I was an idiot," you whispered.

"You should be," he teased, planting a kiss on your hair, "But I'm sorry too. Perhaps I should have told you who I was from the start. Let's just... not say things we don't mean and hurt each other again, okay?"

You nodded, squeezing him tightly, "Okay, Sannie."

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[suzukiblu]

If you are still taking requests I would love some Jason Todd!

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. Like it's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP.

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked up shit he's done and said to Tim.

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates.

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession.

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts.

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something?

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that.

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking <i>besotted</i> Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is.

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him.

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from.

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really.

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up.

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever.

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely.

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway.

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises.

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that.

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather.

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate.

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment.

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern.

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were."

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him.

Goddammit.

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much.

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway.

Fuck, he'd better be.

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not.

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now.

Ugh.

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid.

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit.

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show.

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though.

[soulmatebracket]

Soulmate Bracket: Round 1 [Side A — Part V]

Provided reasoning under cut:

Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji

They are canonically called soulmates!! In the live action this is platonic due to censorship and in the book it is romantic but the term actually used is zhiji (知己) of which soulmate is the closest english translation but is more literally like. the mirror to your soul. your own self in another person. i am not good with translations only wei wuxian dies but lan wangji mourns him for thirteen years (despite wwx being hated and despised by the world) because he can never love another. when wwx is brought back he recognises him instantly despite being in someone else’s body. they literally would find each other in any time or place

Oh boy. Ok. They're not explicitly called "soulmates" in the show/book but Netflix does use that categorization in its description of "The Untamed". Nor are either of them technically reincarnated BUT Wei Wuxian does get resurrected in another man's body through some shady necromancy, which is pretty darn close. They've got a fascinating relationship journey (basically enemies/rivals to lovers) Mr. Follow-All-Rules-To-The-Letter Lan Wangji meets Mr. Break-All-The-Rules-In-The-Name-Of-Fun-And-Showing-Off Wei Wuxian at teenage exorcist summer camp, they go through some sh*t, Wei Wuxian dies, Lan Wangji spends over a decade trying to find any sign of his lost soulmate while raising his adopted kid, then the shady necromancy happens and Lan Wangji IMMEDIATELY clocks that this guy simultaneously solving exorcist issues using slightly questionable means and causing shenanigans is Wei Wuxian. He might be in a different body pretending to be another crazy man, but HE KNOWS it's his guy because he acts the same and he knows the secret love song Wangji wrote for Wuxian that he shared one time in a cave during one of their near-death bonding experiences. Then history starts kind of repeating itself, only this time they stick together and make sure EVERYONE knows that they've got each others' backs, and they are absolutely legendary. Also Wei Wuxian is INCREDIBLY dense and it takes him just about until the end of the story to realize they're both gay and in love. They're complex and fascinating and tied to each other by the red string of fate so tightly that they are incomplete without each other. That's destiny, baby. They're soulmates, always and forever. (Possibly literally as the proper practice of exorcism (called "cultivation" in this world) can lead to immortality, and you know Mr. Follow-All-Rules-To-The-Letter Lan Wangji has the potential, and he will drag his guy along with him so they are never separated again.)

Okay so I feel like it could be argued if they count but the Netflix description of the show calls them soulmates and WWX *did* get reincarnated and then almost immediately run into LWJ who had been mourning him for 16 years. LWJ composed a little musical theme for them that ties them together and WWX playing it on a super out of tune flute is what let LWJ fully recognize him. Their magic which comes from their souls is very compatible and neither of them have ever been normal about each other in their life even though WWX spent a long time being extremely dumb and repressed about his very gay feelings (they are romantic soulmates, just takes them a bit to get there). Big "you and me against the world" vibes once WWX becomes the number 1 wanted guy in the entire universe due to dabbling in dark magic even though WWX was like "lan zhan if someone has to kill me i want it to be you" (LWJ did *not* want it to be him and did his very best to keep WWX alive even though it meant betraying his clan and the world as a whole). They got fake married as teens back when LWJ didn't even like WWX. There are multiple moments where they parallel other soulmates/soulmate-coded characters (song lan and xiao xingchen, baoshen sanren and lan an). They're the only two characters who get to be happy at the immediate end of the story and that's because both of them being alive and together and getting to wander around fighting monsters and playing music and being grossly in love is all that they both need.

Utena Tenjou & Anthy Himemiya

[SPOILERS] at the end of the series, it is revealed that they weren’t living in the real world this entire time. Utena was sent somewhere else. Anthy goes to find her in the movie, and Utena has lost all of her memories of Anthy in that world. At the end of the movie, they end up escaping to the real world

Utena falls in love with Anthy on first sight and makes sure she becomes her prince without even remembering who she is. They're stuck in a timeloop and eventually find themselves together near the end escaping from the horrors theyre trapped in. (Spoilers kinda) Anthy is hinted to have came back to life after being burned st the stake for being seen as a witch so the reincarnation exists,,,(they're in love your honor vote for my silly sapphics)

Every version of RGU is the narrative repeating itself. Devouring itself again. The serpent eating its own tail. Utena fights for Anthy again and again. Anthy betrays Utena, or lies to Utena, or cannot save the both of them quick enough. Anthy escapes, or they both escape, or they both get trapped again, and the story repeats, and Utena is winning the hand of the rose bride, and Utena cannot escape the narrative. Each time the story is told again Utena cannot quite remember how she got here, but it gets more familiar each time. RGU is a time loop that the characters can hardly escape. In every version, Anthy and Utena find each other. Betray each other. Find each other, again.

[artwithoutblood]

I'm going to gush about each of your characters the more I learn about them and so I will start with Erebus cause I genuinely just *sobs* theyre so comforting

Erebus really sounds like someone I'd wanna hang out with! Not because they're high energy (cause obviously he's not) and not because theyre funny (cause... he's not LOL) but because he's so calming.

I like to imagine my MC going to Erebus and gently asking if they can sit with in the room with him, maybe read a book of his but if not then they just sketch in the corner, just enjoying Erebus's silent presence! Like they go to get a snack and they bring back enough for both themselves and Eri, offers it to them. Or they show off their work to Eri, just softly going "Hey, look, I finished another little piece". Or maybe, if Eri allows them, they read a stage play or novel of his and goes "I'll read it blind the first time, but is it okay if I come to you with questions when I read it again?"

And they know that touch isn't really accepted happily, I feel the same way a lot of the time, so little peace offerings of things that makes them think of Eri is just as good! Or sitting in the room with Eri and enjoying shared silence while they both do their own thing.

I just find a lot of comfort in Erebus and how they're written and portrayed. I wanna hold their hand and be their best friend! I love them, but like in the platonic, soulmate type of way. Romance is great, and I would kiss him in an alternate universe that'd let me, but I cherish him as he is and he's perfect the way he is right now and I wouldnt want him any other way. He's just so relatable and endearing, and while he's really really weird, so is everyone else in this world. Eri just makes it a little better, cause he's in it <3

i'm glad you like him a lot! i project some of my deeper insecurities on him to create a character in the space that's just kind of...mean sometimes, awkward in others, but in his loneliness he pushes to be alone himself.

since he's vietnamese (and i have the pleasure of being able to go to multiple people for writing and character advice for him), i really like how you used the idea of peace offerings, so he, like many others, would likely leave out a little bowl of fruit even if he's not there, as a quiet sign to show he loves and cares for you. the platonic bond is something he really would cherish. he doesn't necessarily need romantic love. he just needs a friend.

this may be one of the most thoughtful, fantastic, and dedicated anons i've ever read. it's so...i'm just really glad that you can connect to a character of mine so deeply.

because this was so fantastic, i'll give you guys a sketch for his mad scientist route.

[sunriseverse]

pls expand on ur soulmate post. genuinely curious here

anon you have no idea how much you're indulging me in this. this is a topic that i feel very strongly about, and have a lot of thoughts that have slowly developed over time (specifically, in the almost eleven year period i've been involved, in various capacities, in fandom).

okay, so, for starters, i should define what i mean by a typical soulmate au, to give you a frame of reference. i am specifically talking about aus where people are paired together romantically based on some sort of indelible mark—often a tattoo, or some other form of image, though some aus it's the first sentence a couple says to each other, or a countdown timer (the few exceptions i can think of to the mark trope are red strings of fate and colourblindness that only fades when you lock eyes with your soulmate).

in these stories, there is often angst surrounding a character thinking their soulmate doesn't have the same mark as them, or that the person they love isn't their soulmate, et cetera, et cetera. however, broadly speaking, in the end, the soulmates end up together—they are joined in a blissful partnership, founded on the knowledge that they were meant for each other, due to machinations of the universe foretelling their union. rarely, if ever, is the alternative imagined: a person without a soulmate, or a person who chooses someone, or multiple someones, besides their soulmate; the plot most often resolves with characters "ending up with exactly who they're meant to".

society, especially western, american society, is deeply heteronormative. you are expected to wind up with one person, and that one person is expected to be a person of the opposite sex. you are destined, in many peoples' minds, inexorably, to end up in an opposite-sex relationship. it's part of why homophobes insist that gay people are unnatural, or just need to find the right person, et cetera—because we are not meant to have a choice; we are meant to follow what society (and god, if you're talking to religious, especially christian, people) has set out for us. it's unavoidable, and, really, won't you just be happier if you just do as you're supposed to? (this is a nice, sanitised version of homophobia—in real life, it's much more complicated, but let us narrow our focus to this one facet for the point of this post.)

now, to tie this back to soulmate aus: you are, once again, expected to get together with the person society tells you you should. in fact, you have an indelible reminder of who, exactly, that person is. soulmate fics, even the ones centring same-sex relationships, largely fall into this path; rarely, if ever, is any thought given to what might occur if someone has no soulmate, or rejects their soulmate, or chooses someone besides their soulmate—even the gay people in soulmate aus are doing what they're supposed to; even gay people in soulmate aus don't push the boundaries. the alternative to the heteronormative structure of soulmates is pushed into the margins; ignored, or outright denied. everyone ends up with exactly who they're meant to, the one person who'll make them happy, just like society has told them—yes, even gay people, who, really, if you think about it, have no difference in experience from straight people, because they can conform to society's expectations as well!

to be clear, i am not saying that writing soulmate aus is a bad thing, or that it's somehow erasing gay people, who need to be "different" from straight people in order to be truly gay. what i am saying is that soulmate aus, even ones centring gay people, are an amplification of what society expects of people, and their construction is often, if not explicitly, then implicitly heteronormative.

[alastairstom]

i really want to know more about your conceptualisation of soulmates and what they are to you, whether you think they're something we all have, if fiction captures how it is in real life (how? how not?) platonic vs romantic and all of the things, etc. if you're okay with talking about it! personally i'm not sure yet whether i believe in soulmates or say, if my soul is drawn to this person at this time it means they're going to teach me some amazing discovery about how i fit into the world but we might not be everything to each other forever, but that's okay cause it makes room for more soul-teachers (as an example) anyway. i'm not sure yet. really. what i believe in terms of it and am keen to hear from you!

(p.s you're giving ace of hearts vibes, do you know what that is?)

This is going to be muse-y and rant-y and make little sense. I'm sorry. Please stick with me! Also, what's ace of hearts?

I'm a hardcore soulmates believer. I think there are some people we're destined to meet, and I think those people hold a little part of us forever, for better or worse. Their souls are knit with ours. For real, comically. Dust from the same star or something.

I think that with obvious exceptions for aro people, everyone has a romantic soulmate somewhere out there. I think everyone has a platonic one.

If you want to know how I conceptualize soulmates, you should look at my fic The Stars Are Aligned (So Save That Heart for Me). I tend to align with Thomas in that fic - I think that soulmates are fated, and that that's the most romantic and magical possibility out there. But, like Alastair in this fic, I do think there's an element of choice to it. Like, you can meet your soulmate and make the wrong choices. It's possible! But sometimes, in rare cases, everything aligns and it's perfect. As it is for Thomas and Alastair and always will be.

I don't think that all happy couples are soulmates. I do think that everyone has a soulmate, but I understand that some people may not choose to be with that person. Not all the ships I like feel soulmate-y. I don't think a lot of media hits the "soulmate" button for me. For example, I love Sophideon, I love Gracetopher. Do I thunk they're soulmates? Wouldn't wager on it, though I love the ships.

To me, soulmates are people who see the worst in each other and love even those ugliest parts. They're people who are so in sync with their values and goals that there's little question on what a happy life would look like for them. They're people who accept every single bit of each other, trust every part of each other, and can bring out the best in each other just by coexisting.

This is rare. So rare. And it's why Thomastair is the only ship (in any media) I'd be comfortable betting actual money on being romantic soulmates. They're in sync, and they clearly hold a part of each other. Thomas always felt something for Alastair, and Alastair was always seeking out Thomas when he didn't know it yet. (I love Wessa, I have a Wessa tattoo, and I STILL wouldn't stake the farm on them being soulmates, because of everything with Jem and because they were out of sync for so long. When I say Thomastair is rare in this way, I MEAN IT.)

I think that a fun fixture of soulmates is that they will find each other over and over in every life. (Shamelessly plugs my Thomastair fic that I linked earlier again). Whether there's reincarnation or simply a scattering of essences, those soulmate parts will always find each other. Because their souls are so knit that, while each person can be an independent individual entity, they will always be two halves of one predestined whole, made to love each other for eternity even as the tides of the universe change.

Edit: sorry, I didn't address soul teachers. I do think this is a thing, people who were put in our paths so we could learn from them and from our relationships with them. And that's so so important. But I think it's different than a soulmate.

[fascinationex]

Okay what about the Designated Soulmate trope?

For this trope ranking ask meme:

I love writing soulmate AU fics, because:

- I feel like the designated soul mate concept is a very short and easy way to link two characters together who may otherwise not be linked, allowing you to just go "Here's this extremely unlikely premise, and now two characters we never saw interact are going to have to put up with each other!" on your own terms.

- This has the secondary advantage of NOT burdening you, the writer, with a 20,000 word lead up explaining why these characters even interact in the canon universe. Exhausting.

- The worldbuilding can be fun and you can get really creative with it. How do you know who a soul mate is? How do people in-universe think of it? What is changed in this AU to accommodate soul mates as a social phenomenon?

- On average, I prefer universes where soul mates are not automatically romantic and don't automatically like each other. I feel like the soul mate trope is great for, like, you set up these absurd circumstances, yell: "Aaand go!" and then the characters have to react like they'd react? Like, does your character look down on the character who turned out to be their soul mate? Are they ashamed? Are they angry? Where to, from here?

- Soul mate characters who must (for soul mate reasons!) be invested in each other's welfare can get into a lot of shenanigans, especially if they're from rival villages, warring sides, or opposing factions in canon.

However, I don't usually like reading designated soul mates that much? A lot of soul mate fics are like, just that trope? I usually find that the writers haven't used the soul mate trope to explore setting or how two unrelated characters would interact under pressure, or how the mechanics of the soul mate link would affect them or anything, and then it's like, you could replace any of the characters with any other character and it wouldn't change the fic at all? You see this in those enormous compilations of pan-fandom soul mate fics on AO3 sometimes.

Once again I think this is a trope that I would really like to see played out differently in fic than how it's most often used—not fulfilling its ultimate entertainment potential, in my opinion, haha. It won't drive me away, but I'm pretty neutral on it. A resounding C+.

[amazingdriverfics]

Hello! I have another request in mind: instead of Rey being captured by Kylo like in interrogation scene in the Force Awakens, it's his best friend from when they were training as Jedi with Luke Skywalker. She's with the Resistance and he's with the First Order. They're supposed to be enemies but after all this time, they still love each other. And Kylo, pleads her to join him and she does because she's never felt at home with the Resistance even though Poe was her friend. Kylo was her home and she loves him. I hope this is okay!

A/N: hey love, I hope you are doing alright. I’m really sorry that it took me so long to get it done, but I wanted for it to be good even if it meant having to wait a bit longer to post. 

I hope you enjoy it very much, I wrote with love, thank you for your support and request. 

Warnings: mentions of fight and death (they are very short)

My masterlist

Your heart is racing, it almost feels like it is about to explode off of your chest, the anxiety pumping in your veins is enough to distract you from the discomfort your body is experiencing, to forget that you can barely move attached on a metallic surface with your hands and legs restrained, to completely erase from your mind that you are covered in ashes and dried tears from all the chaos you had seen a couple of hours ago. None of that matters when you know you are finally going to meet Kylo Ren and very likely meet your death at the other end of the red lightsaber you watched kill so many not too long ago. 

The man doesn’t come for a long time anyway and you think to yourself that the time he is taking might just be torture itself, you are hyperaware of the enviroment you are in - a dark room with nothing but a lamp and you - as well as the things going outside, every sound makes you want to cry and evey tiny movement you can see through the small space under the door makes your heart skip a beat. You try to calm yourself as Master Luke had thought you many years before, but it was impossible, every time you tried to focus on your breathing patterns some noise got in the way, to make things worse one of the cuffs keeping you on the metallic surface doesn’t allow you to use the force, leaving you defenceless to face Kylo Ren. 

Nonetheless, you decide to give meditation one last try, if the dark knight was such a good force user as the rumours said, you would need all the focus you could possibly find to keep him off of your memories, to protect Poe and the Resistance. You try to focus only on your breathing, inhaling and exhaling loudly so you could hopefully drown the other sounds and you allow yourself for the first time to start accessing your body, imagining the oxygen you inhaled going through your bloodstream and getting to every single cell, filling them with life. 

When you feel like you are finally managing to calm yourself down, you listen to the door opening and you instantly open your eyes. The first thing you see is a tall black figure using a lifeless mask that had been haunting your thoughts ever since you got captured by the stormtroopers, the second thing you see is the lightsaber on his belt and it makes you swallow dry, all the calmness you had been trying to find vanishing and turning into fear. 

You watch as he walks towards you with long and insecure strides and it shocks you. Of everything you imagined Kylo Ren to be like - a monster, a soulless creature, a sadist - insecure definitely wasn’t on the list. His behavior however fills you up with a courage you had left in the spot you were captured. 

As he gets closer you allow your instincts to take control, your mouth moving before you could possibly think that it wasn’t the wisest decision. “You aren’t going to get anything from me, you might as well kill me now, monster”. 

You wait for a answer that doesn’t come, all Kylo Ren does is stop near the surface you are restrained on and all you can hear is the mechanic sound of breathing coming from his stupid mask as you turn your head towards it, ready to challenge the man once again. 

“And take this disgusting thing off your face, I don’t talk to cowards in masks”.

Much to your surprise, you don’t feel excruciating pain, but you watch as his gloved hands travel to the sides of his helmet, the next thing you listen is the sound of pressured air leaving the inside of it. When you finally see his face, your heart beats faster, but, this time, for all the wrong reasons. 

——————————————————————————

“Come y/n, the water is amazing” Ben yells at you, the most perfect smile adorning his features. 

You run towards the lake in your underwear as your eyes focus on Ben, you watch as his soaked dark hair touches his face, and water droplets fall on his face and on his torso, the sight making your heart skip beats, he was truly the most beautiful being you had ever laid eyes on. 

Stars, you loved Ben Solo with every atom in your body.

——————————————————————————

“Ben” you whisper, eyes filling with tears as you remember yourself of all you lived with him. You knew he had disappeared after the Jedi Temple burned, you had even mourned Ben, believing you would never see the man that you loved for so long again, your true home and family, your soulmate. “What happened to you?” you ask trying to reach for him, going against your better judgment. 

He sighs as you look into his dark eyes, trying to figure out the emotion behind it, something you could do so easily when you were younger, but now that barely knew him anymore  it proved to be an incredibly hard task. 

“Luke tried to kill me” he confesses and you don’t know what shocks you the most, hearing the sound of his deep voice years later the last time you saw him or finding out that one of the man you looked up to the most as you grew older tried to murder Ben, his neffew, the sweet boy you fell for and the boy who had gone through hell as he tried to discover himself. 

“Oh Ben, why didn’t you tell me? When did it happen?” As you talk to Ben, you forget you are stuck in a table and that you are his prisoner, not his lover.

He closes his eyes and his hands into fists before answering you. 

“That night when I burned the temple” he says before pausing, his eyes watching your every reaction as you assimilate that it was your Ben who burned the temple, not any Sith or Snoke himself, but Ben. “And no matter how much it hurt me to leave you behind, I just couldn’t bring myself to take you with me into the Order, into Snoke’s hand, I needed you to stay alive”. 

His words make you cry, make you sob, all your discoveries becoming overwhelming, seeing Ben alive after mourning him all too much. Before you can even process it, his gloved hand is in your cheek, caressing your skin lightly as a way to soothe your ache and you know you should hate him, you know he was supposed to be your enemy, but as you feel his touch once again, you fell like the little girl who fell for Ben Solo.

“You can’t imagine how much I missed you, little one” he confesses, his hand not leaving your face. All of a sudden you feel as your restraints open, your body almost escaping the surface until Ben holds you with the force, slowly allowing you to get your feet on the ground. “Now that you’re here with me again, I don’t know if I could ever let you go again”. 

As the words leave his mouth, Ben gets up walking towards you, his hand that just left your face travels to your waist, his eyes filled with so much emotion looking directly into your teary ones. You know you should say no, that you should say that your home is with the Resistance, that you could never be with an Order so evil and destructive, but it would be all a lie. Your home was with Ben, it always had been and it always would be, you always loved him and you were sure that you would never ever stop loving him, no matter how much Poe tried to make you feel included at the Resistance, there was nothing in the Galaxy that could make you feel like Ben.

“Join me” he pleads and it doesn’t take you two seconds before whispering a ‘yes’ and nod, your face leaning towards his, your lips searching for his. 

When your lips meet his and your tongues finally touch his, it feels like fireworks explode in your body, almost like time stands still, like the whole Universe was watching as two soulmates find their way back to each other again. 

As the two of you part and you look into your eyes you whisper: “You’ll always be my home, Ben”.

[luvdsc]

first off, that soulmate au abt jaemin was top notch! i loved it so much, i just started reading ur works n they're absolutely amazing 🥺 when i finally caught on to what was going on in the fic, u have to know that my heart began ACHING istg 🗿 secondly, i aspire to be as good of a writer as u are, any tips on how to start off my writing blog?? super sorry to bother u, i just love ur works sm omggg

brb gonna print this out and pin it to my wall, so I can read it whenever I feel sad and instantly feel better because you are the absolute kindest, honey bee, omg thank you so much!!! 😭💘 thank you for enjoying ellipsism and for giving my writing a chance! I don’t write angst as often, so I’m very happy to see that the angst hit its mark :’)

You are so cute omg, I’m positive your writing is already as amazing as you are!!!! 💗 I’m not sure if you want writing tips or tips about how to start a writing blog? So I’ll put a bit of both! And it’s not a bother at all, lovebug, thank you for showering my writing with love 🥺💚 I’ll put the tips below under the cut!

WRITING ;

utilize your own experiences — this is something I do the most with my writing. My blurbs are oftentimes based on things that happened in my life. The reason why I hold tddol so near and dear to my heart the most is because the entire thing is heavily based on my own college shenanigans and each character emcompasses personality traits and quirks of my own irl friends. It makes the fic more believable as well because you can pull from your own emotions and thoughts from that time and put it into words. I gravitate towards college au the most because there’s no research involved when I’m the primary source :)

daydream — sometimes, it’s best to just let your mind wander and conjure up make-believe scenarios at 3 in the morning when it’s quiet and only the moon and stars are awake with you.

draw inspiration from your surroundings and people around you — this might be a little difficult if you’re in quarantine right now, but pay attention to who and what’s going on around you! go to a coffee shop and observe the different people that come and go. is there something going on with the couple sitting the corner or maybe the barista and her obviously favorite regular that she always gives a free scone to? Or maybe there’s something about the cute boy with the maroon beanie who taps away at his laptop, sipping on a hot chocolate. Make up random scenarios and back stories for these people!

dialogue — read what you write for your character’s dialogue and ask yourself, “do people actually speak this way?” People use the same words often in their speech, use contractions, have um’s and ah’s scattered here and there, trail off mid sentence, randomly go from one thought to the next, etc. Make sure the conversation sounds natural and flows well!

detail — detail is something I struggle with writing, but I feel like I’ve improved on it immensely with this little rule I’ve given myself. Each paragraph (?) has to be three to five lines long on a google doc, unless it’s a short dialogue line that I want to pack a punch with. By doing this, I’m making myself stop and think about the surroundings and what’s going on through my character’s mind or what they’re feeling. As the writer, you already know all of this and may not feel the need to write it down, but to a reader who’s unfamiliar with the universe you created, they won’t know any of it at all. So make sure to add in detail!

write when you feel like writing — this is just my personal opinion on this, but my writing comes out infinite times better when I write when I want to and not force myself to word vomit onto google docs. I kinda did that with I Dare You, and it’s actually my least favorite fic I’ve written on here because I’m not satisfied with the forced execution of it. I know some people prefer to set goals for themselves and write 2k a day regardless, which is incredibly awesome and I admire their determination and will power, but that’s not for me. I only write when I feel like it because I want it to be enjoyable and not feel like a job I’m forced to do. Unfortunately, that means I don’t have a set posting schedule, and fics often get scrapped midway when I decide I don’t want to write it anymore.

write what you want to write — I’m a firm believer in this. Indulge in your favorite au’s and tropes! Write a million bff2l stories (like I do lmao) if that’s the trope that makes you happy!!! Don’t worry about the notes, the number of reblogs, the word count, etc. Please don’t force yourself to write something you’re uncomfortable with or dislike for the sake of notes or readers. Your stories are for you first and foremost, so use them to make whatever your heart desires come to life!

STARTING A WRITING BLOG ;

choose a clean blog theme — make sure your blog is easy on the eyes and simple to navigate! You could be putting out god tier writings like Rick Riordan, but there’s a high chance people will give up on reading it if it’s in neon green, comic sans size 7 font on your flashy blog.

create a master list — this goes into the easy to navigate component as well! It’s best to have all the links to your writings and other important info in one post that you can put in your description for others to find.

use tags — I believe it’s only the first five tags that matter, so make it count! for instance, with ellipsism, it’s a jaemin angst, so I used #jaemin angst, #jaemin scenarios, #jaemin imagines, #nct imagines, and #nct scenarios as my first five tags. They’re pretty popular tags that correlate to my fic, and they’ll bring my fic to the attention of new readers!

reblog your fic — people are in all different time zones, so some of your followers might be asleep when you drop a fic and unfortunately miss it. you can queue a reblog of your fic at different time intervals after you posted it, so that your followers who missed it the first time have another chance at seeing it!

open requests / drabble games — i don’t know if this is your cup of tea, but if you’re stumped on what to write or are looking for inspiration, you can open requests/suggestions or hold a drabble game! This also can bring in new readers and allow you to interact with your followers :) but again, please don’t force yourself to write all of them if you don’t want to or if you’re comfortable with a certain request. At the end of the day, you reserve the right to say no to any request.

I hope these were helpful, honey bee, and please feel free to send another ask in if you want me to elaborate on anything or have any more questions! (Or if you just want to talk, that’s a-okay, too!!!) 💓💓

[microcroft]

Me thinking about how Shane and Gris have proposed to each other several times even though they're already married: 😭😭😭💕💕💕

i gotta counteract the sad shit i write with things that just make my heart explode. these two are my emotional support goblins.

ive probably already mentioned this but shane and gris went to rasmodius completely wasted at like 1 am on new years and BEGGED rasmodius to make them more married. 

“The farmer has a great destiny to fulfill and his progress in completing that task is reliant upon his happiness and the bond the two of you share. Should you do anything to hurt his happiness or the bond you share, you are also hurting the valley.”

“You said…. So many words randolph.” gris said, now sitting in shane’s lap on the floor.

“Yeah i got lost half way through but im still definitely afraid of you. I think you were talking about me hurting gris and i really dont ever wanna do that, gris have i ever hurt you?” shane looks to gris with absolute fear and concern in his eyes, “you know i would never ever evereverever want to hurt you please tell me if i ever hurt you honey”

“Ummmmmmm…… the other day you burnt my pepper poppers? I was upset,” gris says sleepily, resting his head on shanes shoulder before jolting up and turning back to the wizard, “oh no does that count richard? He didnt mean to!”

 Shane looks like hes gonna cry “im really, really sorry for burning your pepper poppers gris, im never ever going to do it again!”

“He didnt mean to ryan!”

The wizard closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a very deep breath. “My name is rasmodius, and no, he’s fine, just forget it. Why did you come here?”

“Okay Rasmatazz um… we came here to uhhhhhhh…. Shaney what did we come here for?”

“Ummm… oh yeah triple married!” Shane shouts excitedly

“Yes! Triple married!” Gris shouts as well

“What in all the universes could that possibly mean?” the Wizard sits down at his desk, absolutely exhausted.

“We wanna be even more married.” shane responds.

“Yeah can you make us even more married Raymond? Please? I wanna marry him as many times as i possibly can” the farmer adds.

Rasmodius groans and rests his head on the desk. “I have never met a more insufferable pair in my life.” he meditates for a second, “I suppose its good that you keep one another occupied, as opposed to Gris coming over here to incessantly disturb my studies to barrage me with inquiries about “dementors,” “Hogwarts,” and “quidditch.” No matter how many times you ask I do not know what you are talking about Gristofer!” he pauses, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath before continuing, “…Okay, if i look into marriage bonds and tell you if I find anything will you please leave me alone?”

“Yes!” gris jumps up “thank you Richmond!”

Shane, who had been completely distracted by playing with one of gris’s curls, is bewildered.

oh and then like years later gris somehow manages to get a pendant from the Old Mariner (after going up to him every single time he sees him and asking for another) and just runs home and stumbles up the stairs and proposes to shane again. shane sees the pendant and immediately panics, reaching for his before confirming it is still there.“how the hell did you manage to get another one?!”anyway, so shane doesnt believe in soulmates or anything like that but he likes to think that no matter what, somehow, he and gris would have still found each other in any universe. (this is true for every other fic i have written, in my farmer goldie and leah and farmer hugo and elliott fics gris and shane are together, gris is a veterinarian from zuzu city that comes to stardew for marnie’s animals. marnie starts making random calls just to force them to spend more time together. the gridball game heart event happens and then gris starts coming just to see shane. this is very wild for the farmers who meet shane and gris separately and shane still act the same way to new farmers while gris is friendly and offers his help if they ever start raising animals. the farmer mentions how they have had pleasant experiences with everyone but there was one rude person, gris is like “oh… who?” the farmer describes him and gris just lets out a deep sigh and mutters under his breath “oh that motherfucker….” and then turns back to the farmer “im sorry for my boyfriend being a dick, really we are working on it. It was nice meeting you, i gotta go now. I hope to see you around again soon.  :)” and then gris turns and heads to the ranch to chew out his boyfriend for being rude to the nice new (obviously wlw or gay) farmer. “DUDE WE GOTTA HAVE SOLIDARITY HERE. SHE OBVIOUSLY LIKES WOMEN AND IS PROBABLY BI, DID YOU SEE THAT FLANNEL AND SHIRT WITH THE CUT OFF SLEEVES? THE CUFFED JEANS?? you of all people should have recognized her as one of your own. you need to apologize to her ASAP.”)

[roominthecastle]

I'm sure I'm biased, but I find myself so bored by Eleanor/Chidi these days. I'm not "anti" just... blah? There are such better options for both of them considering who they are now is so vastly different than in the afterlife realities where they had so much early growing to do. They were only together a fraction out of 800 times and I genuinely can't tell if the show is trying to sell us on the idea that they're ~*meant to be*~ or on the idea that Michael simply believes they're meant to be.

I’m leaning towards the latter. The universe doesn’t seem to care about who ends up w/ whom, and they never would have found each other if it hadn’t been for Michael’s constant meddling, which is esp apparent this season. Their world has expanded from a small, closed system into the entire real world that was impossible for Michael to micromanage. He had to keep nudging them every step of the way and they still didn’t get together romantically despite spending more than a year in close proximity. Revealing that they were together once feels like pressuring at this point. If it hasn’t happened on its own by now, why should it matter that they were an item one time (out of 800 versions)? I mean, I get it: Michael was (impulsively) trying to console Eleanor and give her solid evidence that she’s capable of having an intimate, loving relationship w/ someone, but he really did not think this through.

In “Jeremy Bearimy”, he is clearly desperate to keep Eleanor from walking away, yet he remains silent about their once supertight karaokee-shrimp-and-leaps-of-faith-filled broship or the sacrifices he’s made or the eternal suffering that awaits him in the afterlife if she doesn’t come back. He didn’t reveal that one time he was also willing to die for her, which is fortunate bc that would have been just as emotionally manipulative/vaguely coercive in that situation, imo. Instead, he offered to kill them all (I love this idiot) and when it was collectively downvoted, he let her go. This way when she came back and extended a Soul Squad membership offer to him and Janet, it was a choice that reinforced a previous one (her scrapping her plans to go to Mindy’s and making Michael a member of Team Cockroach in S2) but wasn’t dictated by it. This is also why I love that Janet didn’t tell Jason about their past right away. Instead, she’s trying to spend time w/ him and regrow their bond in a more natural way, so if they get together again, it will be bc they both want it and not bc it is somehow expected. This option is no longer available for E/C.

Also, there is Simone w/ whom Chidi broke up only bc he didn’t want to doom her. It was a serious, steady relationship. There wasn’t one second where he was remotely torn between her and Eleanor. And now we are back to that tiny closed system where his options are once again reduced to Eleanor or Tahani or books/celibacy, which has echoes of those multiple soulmate torture scenarios Michael ran on him in S2.

I am not an “anti”, either. I don’t even have notps on this show or any “shipping agenda” where canon is concerned, but at this point, C/E feels more like a long-winded experiment than a “meant to be” love story. Or maybe that’s the point? idk. I’m not sure what they are trying to do here and I am looking forward to seeing them tackle the determinism angle, but so far S3 hasn’t done this dynamic any favors.

One of the many things that are so enticing about Michael’s relationship w/ Eleanor is that it is presented as a result of actual, hard choices(*) mixed w/ sth instinctive/intuitive that allows them to quickly fall into an easy rhythm despite the reboots and despite how nuts it usually is (I mean, he will always be her ex torturer and he always makes sure she knows this one piece of info). And even as the stakes rise and various whacky challenges are hurled at him, Michael keeps choosing her (and the team) w/o hesitation, so the whole show is now a testament to his love. Other than that there is literally nothing else that’s keeping him from saying fuck this and settling down on some fancy beach to sip tasty margaritas for the rest of eternity.

(*) I know it’s said that Chidi always chose to help Eleanor in the reboots but to me that’s forever tainted by a compulsion which he characterizes as his “ethical duty” to help. This was what Michael was counting on when he designed this torture setup: Chidi’s pathological inability to say no. That and choice are not exactly synonymous. And on Earth Michael had to keep stepping in by telling him to help, to go back to the group, a group which still got disbanded in the end as Chidi clearly chose his career and Simone over Eleanor even after her plea and subsequent meltdown.

I am not trying to dish E/C, honestly. I think they have an excellent dynamic (that hasn’t been utilized much this season but there’s still time), I just don’t get the “meant-to-be soulmates!” hype around them or this fandom expectation that you must ship them hard. Then again, I never seem to be able to develop an obsessive interest in “big canon couples” in general, like I was never particularly invested in Jim/Pam on The Office and the relationship status of Jake and Amy is irrelevant to my love for B99 - friends or married? great either way (I did weep a little at their wedding tho bc I am weak and my dude Holt was bringing it). And I feel this same “okay” about romantic E/C, too.

And ofc we are biased. Like everybody else in every fandom always.

[dothewrite]

hi! i love your blog so much ahh i cant wait to see more of ur writings! would you be able to do a scenario with tsukki (or maybe another character if u want as he alreayd has a soulmate au) where you see ur s/o in ur dreams? and they meet when they're rlly young in their dreams and stuff and they grow up as friends and then eventually love each othe etc but then she gets diagnosed with insomnia and he barely sees her nowadays and eventually he finds her irl? sorry if thats too descriptive!

I give this to you many eons after you requested it, I’m so sorry. I hope you enjoy it, and it’s a whole 4k begging you for forgiveness. This was an interesting write, so thank you for waiting until you’re almost all white-haired. Eleven for Tsukishima’s number. :)

One.

“Hello.”

He turns around in the empty basketball court- the sun is boringinto his eyes but he doesn’t have to blink more than once to see who he’stalking to. Even though he can see everything clearly, the chalk marks on thegreen, scratchy ground, the bushes that have been left untrimmed since severalweek ago, she’s different. She’s firmer than everything else around him, andher colours are so vivid that he’s not sure he’s ever going to forget how thatsweater looks on her. It’s green, far greener than the shrubbery around her.

“Hello,” he offers slowly. He doesn’t like talking to strangersmuch.

She doesn’t seem to mind it as much as he does. She’s notlooking at him anymore, but to the left then to the right, examining theirenvironment with an interesting sense of wonder.

“You like sports?”

Tsukishima stares, silently. She doesn’t seem to mind, and justshrugs.

“It’s a basketball court.”

“Yes,” he answers.

“There’s nobody here.”

“Yes.” He’s getting a little tired of repeating himself. It’skind of given, isn’t it? They’re the only two people here, and one of them iswasting time pointing out the obvious. He’d be bored if this wasn’t so strange.

She looks at him now, and he notices that her eyes are veryround. Very brown, too, even though her hair is a special shade of grey. Sheseems to know what he’s thinking, and she shrugs again, this time with a widesmile on her face.

“Genetics,” she says almost apologetically, and if he wasn’t whohe is, he wouldn’t understand the word at all. “Low melanin in my hair, orthat’s what my mom told me.”

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay.” She watches him for a little more and the silence is amuting presence. What Tsukishima feels like several hours later, she finallymoves from her spot and turns around. “See you around,” she waves a hand athim, and walks out of the park.

Tsukishima’s still standing there after she’s gone, veryconfused and very unnerved. This was his safe place, the place where he couldbe alone and himself without anyone to bother him. Now there’s a girl who’sdefinitely not his creation just walking into his dream and he can’t help butsulk, because it’s soiled now.

No longer comfortable, he sighs, and wakes up instead.

Two.

You’d think he’d be used to her by now. He isn’t. Far from it.There’s probably no way to get used to something so loud and cheerful in aworld of quiet, no matter how many times it’s been.

How many months has it been, anyway?

“Aren’t you ever bored of this place? It’s always the basketballcourt.”

“No,” he answers bluntly, “it’s quiet here, and it’s too much ofa hassle to change it.”

She sort of frowns at him, a disappointed furrow to her browsthat looks far too old for her face. Her face that’s always wide and open, fullof curiosity and shamelessness that Tsukishima disapproves of. “It won’t killyou to be a little more creative, Kei. You can do anything here!”

“Yeah,” he intones, “that’s why I can do exactly what I want.Which is to stay here. Alone.”

He grows a little more frustrated when she simply grins. “Goahead and pretend I’m not here then. I don’t mind.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” She spins around on her heels and twirls severalloops. She loves it, she can’t do it in the real world.

Tsukishima clicks his tongue and snaps his book close. It lieson his lap and he considers throwing it at her head. “Because you’re too loud.”

“Then make more people,” she tells him right back, like it’s themost obvious thing in the world and she thought he was the intelligent one, “if everyone’s loud, then no-one’sloud, right?”

That logic shouldn’t work. But somehow Tsukishima finds hisbasketball court occupied by dozens of other kids in less than a minute. Hetakes in the squeaking of worn sneakers against the slip-resistant ground, theshouts of people jumping from space to space, and the echo of several bouncingbasketballs in a very occupied court. She looks very pleased with herself, anda little smug.

“There,” she remarks with a flourish. She’s a lot closer to himnow, almost in his personal space and Tsukishima has to fight the urge to standup to match her height, “now you can be quiet, and pretend I’m not here.”

He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t tell her that instead of pretendingthat she’s not here, she can literally just notbe here, but the words don’t come and he glances down at his book.

It works, he supposes, as he flips it back open to the page he’ddog-eared, and pretends that she’s not there.

Three.

“I’m starting middle school soon,” she tells him one day whenthey’re sitting in a field. It’s her dream this time, and Tsukishima’s only therebecause she helped him once and he owed her. There are a lot of daisies, henotices. “Will you be lonely?”

“Why would I be lonely?” He asks without looking.

“There’ll be more homework. My mom always makes me finish myhomework.”

He glances at her, face impassive and his nose twitching fromall the pollen in the air. He thinks she looks disappointed. Maybe. He’s notquite sure, because he doesn’t look at her very often to know these things.

But there’s just something about the way her eyes fall that makeshis head sore.

“Then you’ll be fine at school.”

“Are you that much older than me?”

“No,” he shrugs, his shoulders a little numb from proppinghimself up for so long, “I’m just a year ahead of you.”

“Oh.”

There’s a moment of silence where neither of them look at eachother. It’s heavy, unlike all the silences that Tsukishima’s used to on hisbasketball court, and all of a sudden he misses it. The quiet of a busy place,instead of this quiet that rings in his ears.

She speaks, finally. Slowly, like she’s turning each word overwith her tongue before they’re allowed out. “You sleep quite often for a middleschooler.”

“I finish my homework quickly.”

“Oh,” she says again. “Then I guess I’ll just have to finishquickly too.”

He looks at her this time, a little confused. “Why?” Finish at your own pace, he wants totell her, but it sounds too kind in his head so it stays in the back of histhroat where it belongs.

Her smile is a little sad when he stares into it. This he canrecognize, because he sees it a lot on his brother, Akiteru’s, face too. Itmakes him feel awful whenever he sees it, so he turns his head away quickly.

“So I can spend more time in your basketball court, of course,”she answers like it’s the first truth of the universe that she’s uncovered. “You’renot going to wait for me to get here, so I’ll just have to keep up!”

Tsukishima feels uncomfortable when he hears that, and he rubsat his chest absentmindedly to get rid of the ache that’s hiding underneath.

Four.

She’s late. Tsukishima’s almost gone through a quarter of hisbook, and she still isn’t here. The basketball is empty this evening, orrather, he’s left it empty since she’d started showing up here less and lessoften. There’s not much point to making things noisy to block out noise that isn’teven here.

She said she’d be here though, so he keeps waiting, legs foldedunderneath him on the park bench and he tells himself that there wouldn’t beanything else he’d be doing anyway.

“Sorry!” Her loud voice calls from what sounds like underneath amuffled pillow, and he jerks upwards, slightly shocked.

Her sneakers are making the squeaky noise against the groundlike his missing basketball players, and he can’t help but wince. She justgrins and waves. “Had to finish algebra,” she makes a face at the word, and hesmirks.

“Easy,” he says snidely. She’s unimpressed, however. Her handsdrop to her hips.

“Not everyone’s as smart as you, Kei. I came here as quickly asI could, didn’t I?”

“How am I supposed to know?” He sounds haughty, but his fingersare already marking which page he’s on before closing his book shut.

“You do,” she answers grumpily.

He supposes he does, and feeling a little chastised, he keepshis mouth shut.

“Where do you live?” She asks, and he feels a little surprisedbecause it’s never occurred to him before. That it would make any differencewhere they were in real life.

“Miyagi,” he tells her. He understands her, so she must be inJapan at least, right?

She nods, slowly, a finger tapping at her chin. “I’m in Tokyo.”

“Right.”

“Right,” she echoes him. Her eyes are fixed on him now, and hecan feel it burning through his skin. It makes him feel like he needs toapologize for something that he hasn’t done. “Are you staying in Miyagi for highschool?”

He nods, and her shoulders seem to sag. He doesn’t comment onthat.

“You’re staying in Tokyo too, aren’t you?”

She opens her mouth to say something, but hesitates. He waitsfor her, unblinking, and she glances away with a soft cough. “I am now.”

Maybe her family had decided not to move, or something. It takesa few seconds for his curiousity to fade at her statement, because really, it’snone of his business.

Five.

It’s the week for regionals, and Tsukishima heaves a huge sighof relief when he settles down into his spot on the ground. He hasn’t been backin the basketball court for a while now because he doesn’t want to see morepeople practicing with balls right after coming home from practice with balls.Too many balls, too many people. The hillside is just fine for him, even if itdoes smell a little like dirt.

He’s taken to dreaming about night time, too. Silence is alittle harder to find, nowadays, so he takes it where he can get it, and thestars are a wonderful way for him to be alone.

There are only four more hours until he has to get up again forearly morning practice, because he really needs to get his blocking down rightin time for Shiratorizawa. The thought sends a tremor down his spine that makeshim sit up a little straighter, and his hands clench without him knowing.

Yes, it’s a lot harder to relax lately.

Not to mention, there’s something missing it seems, but he can’tquite pinpoint what it is. He supposes that the mind’s not infallible, and hemust have simply overlooked a detail somewhere in the environment. She’dnotice, most likely, with her annoying perceptiveness.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t shown her this place yet. It’s notquite recent, several months or so, he’d say, since he’d chosen to come hereinstead, but she hasn’t dropped by at all.

He wonders if she’s on a sports team too, maybe that’s why she’stoo busy to bother him anymore. Serves her right, he thinks.

When his alarm clock blares through his thoughts, it shakes theclouds in his sky and he snaps out of his dream with an angry grunt.

Six.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and reaches out to tap her on the shoulder.It takes her a while to turn, but when she does, it’s with a smile.

“Hello, Kei,” and she sounds like the breeze, “it’s been awhile.”

He just nods, like he always does. Her smile warms, because sheunderstands. “How was nationals?” She asks, and he’s surprised.

“You followed it?”

Her laugh is tired, but cheeky. “Gotta do what I gotta do.”

Tsukishima sinks down onto the grass beside her. “I never toldyou I played volleyball.”

“I know,” she sighs dramatically, an arm swinging up to coverher eyes, “and after all these years too!” She doesn’t wait for him to respondto peek out from under her sleeve. “It was easy. I just had to listen to thesound of salt.”

“You’d reach the ocean,” he replies deadpan, and she laughs.

“That’s the Kei I know and love!”

They both hear it when she says it, but neither of them followup. It hangs, spoken and lonely between them, and faster than a wish, itvanishes from view. He wants it back, but he doesn’t quite understand why, sohe keeps his hand where it is. He hasn’t seen her in a long time, not sincehe’d shown her his new hideout for the first time, and after that, well. Shelooks different. A little darker around the eyes.

Still, he’s changed too. He can read her better now, and he’sstopped rubbing at his chest whenever that ache comes up. He just lets itsimmer; it goes away on its own an hour or two after he wakes up.

“I’m graduating soon.”

“I know.” She sounds happy for him. “Are you excited?”

“To submerge myself further into academia? Hardly.”

“You’re the smart one,” she rolls her eyes at him, “if anyone’dbe excited it’s you.”

“Genius,” he tells her plainly, “does not mean enthusiasm.”

She doesn’t remark at that, and only laughs that raucous laughof hers. It sounds so out of place in the evergreen field of hers that she’snever left, and Tsukishima smiles.

“Where to?” She asks once she’s calmed down.

Tsukishima shakes his head. “Not sure yet. I’m waiting for theletters to come in.”

“I see,” she nods, and that’s that.

Seven.

His parents must have found him incredibly strange, as themoment he’d received his final acceptance letter, he’d said nothing to themexcept hold out the open page and muttered a ‘I’m going to sleep’ beforetrotting upstairs. He doesn’t know if they’d stared at each other, or laughed,or just shook their heads in dismay, but it didn’t matter, because he wasasleep by then.

And here. Back by his hillside, an absence of cars betraying theobvious fact that this isn’t real, and all the summer, spring and winterconstellations are cramped into one single sky- they’re waiting for something,just like he is.

They fade one by one, Cygnus, then Orion, as it becomes light inhis mind. Conception of time has always been rather weak in his dreams, butTsukishima feels the hours pass by like each huff of breath. He wagers it’sbeen almost five hours, a few more until he has to get up for practice againdespite no longer being a regular on the team, and he pushes himself up to hisfeet.

He gives it ten more minutes, just ten.

When those ten minutes pass and she doesn’t come, he gets upfrom his bed and switches off his alarm.

Eight.

Sleep sounds like myth, like a blade of legend, only bestowedupon the truly worthy. Tsukishima feels incredibly unworthy, because he hasn’tslept in days. The empty mug looks happily back at him, the dregs of longfinished coffee relaxing at the base and he actively wishes that he too, was aninanimate object without anything to worry about.

“Tsukki!” A loud voicebellows at him from his doorway (how did he not notice it opening? What?) andhe almost bursts into tears. Or rage. Tears of rage. It’s just his luck to havechosen the same university as the two horrors, typically known to man as KurooTetsurou and Bokuto Koutarou. There’s Oikawa too, and Daichi, but they’re muchmore respectful of finals week, probably because they too, are most likelydying.

“What do you want?” He cries through the palms cupping his face,and the footsteps stop.

“He’s shouting,” Bokuto’s voice whispers. Poorly.

“He never shouts,” Kuroo agrees.

“I can hear you,”Tsukishima snarls. It doesn’t deter them in the least, and the two terrorsfinally reach his slumped position over the dining table and drop something onhis head. He fumbles at it clumsily, hand shaking from too many shots ofexpresso, and he finds several cans of red bull along with a massive packet ofbarbecue lays in a flimsy plastic bag. “Are you serious?” It sounds a littleridiculous even to him.

Bokuto, however, looks incredibly proud of himself. “Food anddrink. Stay alive, my man.”

“Barbecue lays isn’t going to make up for my lack of vitamin D.”He regrets it immediately after saying it when Kuroo waggles his eyebrows andgoes ‘ohohoho, he wants the D’ and Bokuto sniggers along obnoxiously.

“Don’t fourth years have finals too? Or do you get your gradesbecause you piss people off so much they just want you gone?”

“The latter,” Kuroo supplies helpfully, and Tsukishima gives up.On social interaction. On exams. On everythingbecause he’s starting to see monkeys in his apartment, and he’s pretty sure hehasn’t got enough bananas to entertain them with.

“Look,” Bokuto finally leans forward to clasp a manly hand onTsukishima’s crumpled shoulders, “I know we got you red bull and all, but getsome sleep, alright? At least a few hours. You’re gonna pass out before youactually get to the classroom at this rate.”

“Right,” Tsukishima mumbles in reply, and when they finally seemappeased enough to leave him to his textbooks again, he decides to do justthat. The crappy, second hand mattress would feel heavenly if only he wereconscious enough to feel himself hit it.

Nine.

“Hello,” he hears, and of course, it’s just his luck to continuehallucinating into his actual hallucinations. He’s actually rather proud of himselfto have thought that whole sentence in this frame of mind.

“Hello?” The voice comes again, and Tsukishima turns around inthe same field, weary from everything and just… the ache, it’s back, and it’sstopping him from saying anything clever.

“Hello,” he breathes in reply, and her face splits open in apainfully familiar smile.

“It’s been a really long time,” she admits, and he has to agree.“I thought you forgot about this place.”

“It’s never changed,” he points out, and she laughs. It’s a weaksounding thing, and Tsukishima intelligently thinks about the red bull on histable. “Are you tired from finals too?”

“Too,” she repeats, almost wistfully. He kneels down and placesa hand on her shoulder just like Bokuto did for him.

“Are you alright?”

“I missed you,” she tells him, and it steals the breath from hislungs like a jewel thief. He meets her gaze for gaze, and he sees the smallpools of light beginning to form in her eyes.

“You’re… crying.”

“And you’re terrible at this,” they’re tipping over, past herdark eyelashes and down her cheek. Tsukishima feels like she’s casting a spellover him, and he’s completely under. “Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“Well, I-” he’s stuck, and she’s right.

“Did you miss me too?”

His heart is in his throat, in her hands and in the way thedaisies seem to flow in the wind. So, he confesses, because there’s no otheroption to begin with. “Yes.”

She’s crying harder. “Good,” and her face crumbles. He surgesforward and catches her in his arms. He’s tired and comforting people reallyisn’t his strength, but he knows that no matter what, she’s more tired than heis. He wants to tell her that she’s thinner and that he’s worried, but he’s learnedfrom a few seconds ago to be more tactful.

“I have to wake up soon,” she says. It surprises him that it isn’tsomething that he’s said.

“Me too,” he answers. “When will you be back?”

“I don’t know,” she gives him a rueful smile, “the sleepingpills haven’t been working lately.”

“Insomnia?” And suddenly it all makes sense. He tightens hisgrip on her. “You went to see a professional, of course.”

“Of course,” she laughs, “and yeah. I’ll try.”

He can feel the caffeine tugging at the back of his senses, andhe’s on borrowed time. She squirms a little in his hold and he loosens it alittle, enough for him to place the back of his hand on her cheek. “I’ll wait.”

She’s disappearing as quickly as fast as he is, and this is thefirst time the world melts around him because he’s never wanted to stay in adream so badly before, but he can’t feel her warmth around his.

It’s only a whisper in his consciousness, but he thinks hecatches a cry of ‘waseda’ before theugly bedroom light is glaring into his face and he has to blink several timesfor the headache to disappear.

He feels slightly more refreshed, or at least, less like thegrim reaper, but his focus is completely gone after that.

Ten.

This is not his style,this is not his style, this is so not his style, he chants over and over again in hishead. It’s all so hideously cliché, the way he’s leaning against a wall nearthe front entrance. He’s even got the hood thing going on, no sunglasses, thankgoodness, but his hands are shoved moodily into his pockets and he’s prettysure he’s going to die a thousand deaths if someone he knows catches him likethis.

“Hello,” he hears, and he feels like he’s already dying. She’swatching him with a healthy amount of amusement from his left side, and hefeels his soul starting to evaporate from his pores.

“Hello,” he croaks.

“I knew you were smart,” she grins at him, and for the firsttime, she’s not any firmer nor brighter than the things around her. She’s as clearas the trees, as colourful as the little pebbles at her feet and Tsukishima ignoresher insult and reaches out with a hand to touch her. She meets him halfway.

“You know,” he finally says as he unwraps himself from hertangled scarf, “you look less tired in real life.” He gestures at his eyes. “Aren’tas dark in the daylight.”

She shrugs and slides an arm around his before they start towalk towards somewhere, their paces matching. “Rotten luck, isn’t it?” Shesighs. “Put me in a dream where I can look however I want to and I still can’tget rid of my eyebags.”

“It’s a defining feature,” he remarks, “I wouldn’t recognize youwithout them.”

She throws him a filthy look that he ignores, but not without asmall grin that creeps stealthily up his face. “Where are we headed?” She asksinstead.

“To a department store to get something to cover your eyebags.”

“…Are you serious?”

“No.” Oh, she’s not even looking at him now, and Tsukishimafinally laughs. He takes great joy in being a piece of shit, and she’s absolutelyno exception. Even though all she’s ever been to him is his exception. “Do you likeice cream?”

“In winter?”

“Yes,” he watches her carefully. Her face brightens and he feelsthe tension drain out of his back. Who knew that not-planning a not-date wouldbe so difficult?

“It sounds perfect,” she beams.

He nods, and they keep walking.

Eleven.

“I thought you had insomnia,” he says dryly when she starts tospin around him on her heels, “how are you here almost every night?”

“Not letting me sleep now, are we? What an insufferableboyfriend.”

“I’m not stopping you from doing anything,” he shrugs and gesturesat her magical pirouette, “as you can see.”

She smirks, because she knows exactly how much he hates it. Shedoesn’t blame him either, it’d make any person dizzy. Thankfully, just not her.

“You see, the good thing about insomnia,” she finally comes to astop with a flourish and he rolls his eyes, “is that no matter how much caffeineyou drink, it can’t make anything worse.”

“That’s like saying the good thing about falling is that you can’tdie if you’re already dead.”

“Exactly,” she snapsher fingers proudly at him. Honestly, he doesn’t know what on earth she’s gotto be proud about, because she sounds slightly insane.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” she leans into his space and he’s tempted to drag her downinto his lips just for the heck of it. “Why don’t you wake up and I’ll tell youthen?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s almost four in the morning. I’m not wakingup for this.”

She shrugs, but there’s a small line of disappointment thatdraws across her shoulders. Tsukishima turns his head and pretends he doesn’tsee it. Still, she doesn’t respond except for sliding into the space beside himon their bed of corn flowers and tucking herself underneath his arm. He’s stilllooking away, but he can’t help the way his body decides to wrap his arm aroundher frame, nor the way his body seems to curve into her like a magnet.

“You love me, don’t you?” It surprises him not because of howsudden it is, but how confident it sounds. She’s barely asking him, she’sdragging out from him. He’s helpless, and he’s never helpless, not even on thecourt.

“Yes,” he admits, helplessly.

He can feel her satisfied smile against his collarbone.

“I forgive you then.”

“What for?”

“Not waking up, of course.”

She’ll be the death of him one day, but not today. Today, he’sforgiven, and all is good.

[suzukiblu]

is there a way to read all of "JayKon soulmates, TimKon datemates, and the wrong Superboy." in one spot? going through the tag it's all jumbled, and it's one of my favorite fics of yours

Thank you! I like that one, I'm really pleased with how it's been coming out. ❤

Honestly, there is not an "all in one place" version of it, though, so have this read-more that will fix that problem for you, friend. This is the whole WIP so far (barring, like, some out-of-order bits that have not yet been woven into the larger whole, haha).

.

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. It's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP. 

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked-up shit he's done and said to Tim. 

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates. 

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession. 

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts. 

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something? 

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that. 

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking besotted Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is. 

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him. 

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from. 

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really. 

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up. 

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever. 

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely. 

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway. 

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises. 

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that. 

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather. 

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate. 

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment. 

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern. 

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were." 

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something. 

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and then steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him. 

Goddammit. 

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much. 

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway. 

Fuck, he'd better be. 

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not. 

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now. 

Ugh. 

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid. 

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit. 

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show. 

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though. 

"'Bored', huh," he says instead because if this is somebody hitching a ride in or fully copying Superboy's body, there is no fucking way that he is coming out on top in a one-v-one with a Kryptonian hybrid. He might be able to get away, maybe, but then he'd be leaving a probably pissed-off fake Superboy with free rein on his territory and every reasonably innocent person in it. 

Yeah, that seems like a stupid idea. 

"What can I say, I like a bad boy," fake Superboy says, smirking at him again. Jason would be embarrassingly into that smirk, if not for the fact that it's not Superboy wearing it. Right now, he just wants to deck this fucker. "Don't you?" 

"I could maybe see the appeal," Jason says, though he doesn't usually. Honestly, he's more a romantic than anything else. He knows he won't ever get that, especially considering what he's done and who his soulmate is and how very, very disgustingly in love with his brother said soulmate is, but–not the point. Either way, Jason's not gonna be honest about his taste in partners with a damn fake version of his goddamn soulmate. 

"Yeah, I bet you could," fake Superboy says with a wider smirk as he steps in a little closer, all the way into Jason's personal space. All of Jason's internal alarms go off, his spine prickling in restless discomfort. 

He really, really hopes Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight. 

“We're taking bets now?” Jason snorts dubiously. Fake Superboy grins at him, and it's worse than the smirking because it's not just a suggestive come-on, it's one of the pleased looks the real Superboy would never give him. Something he saves for Tim or Steph or Dick or literally just anyone else. He's pretty sure he's seen him grin like that at Bruce, even. 

Though it admittedly does lack some of its usual effect when Jason can't feel any of the emotions behind it. 

“You can take anything you want, Hood,” fake Superboy purrs, skimming a hand up Jason's chest. If he were Superboy, this would be the part where Jason called him an asshole and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, except if he were Superboy he'd never actually be doing this. Superboy loves Tim. Adores him. And he's not a desperate for attention teenager anymore, much less this kind of a selfish fucking prick. 

So Jason is just stuck on this stupid fucking roof with a stupid fucking fake, and this fucking funhouse mirror is the closest he's ever getting to his own fucking soulmate. 

The wait on this damn panic button better be a short one. 

“‘Anything’, huh,” he says, folding his arms. The fake Superboy gives him another smirk and taps his fingers against the underside of Jason's jaw, just where his helmet fastens. 

The fastener clicks, and his helmet falls apart and falls right off him and into fake Superboy's hands. Jason should've left the bomb in it. 

Tactile telekinesis. Okay. So the fucker does have access to Superboy's powers, one way or another. 

Fuck. 

At least Jason wore his domino tonight. He doesn't know what this asshole actually knows, and he might be legally dead, but compromising any Bat-related identities is still not the place to start. 

“You're too damn hot to wear this clunky-ass thing all the time, you know,” fake Superboy says, turning over Jason's helmet in his hands and still smirking at him. Jason would really like to make with the pistol-whipping right now. “Real waste of a pretty face.” 

“We don't all have bulletproof skulls,” Jason says dryly, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“You'd be bulletproof if I got my hands on you,” fake Superboy points out casually, which is not actually an application of TTK Jason was aware of but does raise a lot of questions he is not going to internally explore. Ever.

“Who said you were getting your hands on me?” he says, and the fake Superboy laughs and taps his fingers against Jason’s helmet. 

“Dunno,” he says, tilting his head with a sly expression. “I wouldn’t mind it the other way around either, though.” 

Fuck his life, Jason thinks. 

“I’m on the clock here, you realize,” he says, and fake Superboy laughs again and then pulls a mock-pout. 

“C’mon, Hood. Told you, I’m bored,” he says, somehow actually managing to find the space to step in closer without quite touching him. His grin is a sharp, glittering thing. “Play hooky with me.” 

This panic button cannot possibly work fast enough, Jason thinks. 

“Fuck it, whatever,” he says, because fake Superboy is clearly not taking no for an answer here and he just needs to buy a little time for someone to get here. Hell, even if fake Superboy were taking no for an answer, he’d probably still want to keep the asshole around as opposed to letting him slip off and put on who knows who else’s face. Better to get him while they’ve got him clocked, one way or the other. “It’s been dead all night anyway. What do you want?” 

Fake Superboy’s grin widens. If he was the real one, Jason would want to bite him over that expression. Unfortunately, he’s not the real one. Again: fuck his fucking life. 

“For starters, bet I could liven things up for you,” fake Superboy purrs, and then he props Jason’s helmet on his cocked hip and braces his free hand on the bricks behind him, leaning in close with an absolutely smug “coy” expression. Jason considers biting him in the not fun way. 

Eh, no, he’d probably just break his fucking teeth. 

It’s a fucking temptation, though. 

“Yeah?” Jason drawls dubiously. “Big talk for a Super.” 

Fake Superboy snickers. 

“Yeah, they tell me I’ve got a big mouth,” he says with an obvious leer. “Wanna see?” 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Jason asks, curling his lip in irritation, and fake Superboy laughs. 

And then actually kisses him, the fucking shit. 

Jason barely manages not to punch him for it. Again, he’d just break his knuckles. 

The fake Superboy sticks his tongue in Jason's mouth and Jason gets absolutely no sense of a soulmate bond, so whatever's going on, Superboy is definitely not in the driver's seat right now, or just not home at all or what the fuck ever. So yeah, that's a no on mind control and probably also possession, and definitely not the effects of red or black K. Not that the total lack of empathy bond response all this time hadn't already proven that pretty damn thoroughly, considering. 

Also, the real Superboy's always had a rep as a flirt and if nothing else definitely spends way too much time in Tim's back pocket to not be a better kisser than this by now. Seriously, Jason refuses to believe that he is not, if only for Tim's sake. This prick kisses like he barely understands the concept.

Fucking figures, Jason thinks, and crushes their mouths together. 

Fake Superboy kisses like a fucking middle schooler, and Jason is absolutely exasperated about having to put up with it. Like–it’d be one thing if it was actually Superboy kissing him like this, and if Superboy wasn’t dating his fucking brother. Then he’d probably think it was funny. Or even kind of cute, honestly, especially with how the guy preens and postures and plays it up. 

And then he’d get to teach him how to kiss better, too, and fucking relish the process. 

This, unfortunately, is not that situation. This is just some asshole wearing the face of the hottest bastard Jason knows and not doing it justice with his sub-par kissing skills.

. . . actually–“her” sub-par kissing skills, maybe? Jason actually has no fucking clue if this is a man or a woman, does he. For all he knows this is an actual middle schooler, which holy fucking Christ, is an absolutely disgusting thought. If this is some kid with shapeshifting powers who somebody coached into this, Jason is going to crack out the good ol’ bloody duffel bag and start collecting heads again. 

He’s pretty sure they’re not, at least, because they might suck at kissing but they don’t move like their body is too big or anything like that. Then again, they don’t move like their body doesn’t fit either, so their powers might be accounting for that. Or–whatever they’ve currently got going. Maybe it’s a fucking spell or maybe it is possession and the muscle memory is keeping Superboy’s body moving at least semi-normally. Again: this asshole has this act down to the microexpressions. 

It’s just so, so screamingly obviously fake all the same, though. 

Jason breaks off the kiss to bare his teeth at said fake, who grins at him all crooked and sultry-warm. Jason, again, debates the merits of breaking his knuckles on this asshole’s face. 

“You can’t kiss for shit,” Jason says bluntly, because only a fucking idiot wouldn’t notice that anyway, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“Aw, you don’t like it like Rob does?” he asks teasingly, his grin widening as he leans forward a little heavier on the arm he has against the bricks. Jason is absolutely fucking offended that fake Superboy is trying to convince him that any brother of his would ever settle for kissing that fucking mediocre, much less like it. As fucking if. “Why don’t you show me what you like, Hood? I’ll roll out the red carpet."

Jason should tase this piece of shit. Jason should <i>shoot</i> this piece of shit. Unfortunately, this still might be Superboy’s body even without him in it, and he didn’t pack kryptonite tonight either way. Assuming, again, that kryptonite would even work. 

He’s absolutely never skipping the kryptonite again, though. Not after this bullshit. He’s going full Lex Luthor and getting himself a pair of kryptonite brass knuckles, in fact. And not in blue: he’s going green. 

“You really think I wanna hear about Robin right now?” he says in the hopes the fucker will shut up a little, and fake Superboy just smirks and loops his arm around his neck, pressing fully up against him. Jason is wearing body armor, obviously, but that doesn’t make him feel particularly safe right now. The TTK alone would be an issue, even discounting Kryptonian strength. Fake Superboy could flatten him like a fucking panini with about as much effort as actually making a panini would take right now. 

So like, that’s a concern. 

“So still the jealous type, huh?” fake Superboy purrs, tilting his head a little. He’s much better at “come-hither” looks than he is at kissing, Jason can’t help noticing, which is fucking irritating. He’s also still got Jason’s helmet held against his hip. Jason is weirdly annoyed by that. “How about I just call you ‘Robin’ tonight, then?” 

Jason did so much therapy to not have this exact fucking fucked-up sexual fantasy. Just so much. 

He is definitely shooting this shithead before the night is over. 

“Try it and I’ll shoot you in the fucking dick,” he says flatly, because there’s playing along and there’s shit he just cannot truck with, and fake Superboy laughs.

“Kinky,” he says approvingly. Jason thinks longingly of kryptonite. 

He really, really hopes kryptonite works on this fucker. It’d have to, right? TTK isn’t exactly a standard-issue superpower; the fake’s got to at least have copied Superboy’s body, and that means copying his vulnerabilities. 

Hopefully. 

Of course, Jason doesn’t actually know jack shit about what’s actually going on here and narrowing it down isn’t working half as well as it could be, so . . . fuck if he actually knows if it’d work. 

He really doesn’t appreciate not being prepared in a crisis. Like–that is the literal antithesis of his entire fucking approach to life, is what it is. 

He’s going to need an extra therapy session this week, he’s pretty sure. Possibly several. Maybe he’ll just call his therapist first thing after they wrap this bullshit up, actually, assuming he survives it. That might be for the best. 

Or literally psychologically fucking necessary so he won’t snap and turn into a literal supervillain. One or the other. 

“You’re seriously overestimating my patience, Superboy,” he says flatly. The fake looks pleased, presumably because he still thinks Jason’s falling for this stupid act. 

“Don’t be such a pill,” fake Superboy says, smirking at him. The idea of pistol-whipping him sounds better and better. It’s almost definitely not gonna work, yeah, but that doesn’t mean Jason wouldn’t try it. “Why don’t you just be nice to me, and I’ll give you plenty of reasons not to be jealous tonight. Or at least don’t bore me as bad as Rob’s been, if nothing else."

Jason is going to burn down . . . mmmmmaybe all of Gotham tonight, actually. Like. Just all of it. Completely. Entirely.