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Rereading old Bitty writings I did way back when and like… I already have so many stories going so I might return to them in the form of like, “No thoughts, only write” drabbles. Bc I do miss the concept of non-romantic bitties, I’m just… not ready for long form fics whe I have 2 of them going atm with another in the works
Powder peered at you from the edge of the sink, his new clothes clutched between his claws and his old clothes resting in a pile at his feet; he’d rattled his ribs at you and kicked them under himself when you had initially reached out to take them back (you chose not to think too hard about the fact that he could separately move his fucking ribs).
He’d apologized almost instantly with big and soft eyelights and a gentle bonk of his teeth to your knuckles, but his possessiveness over the clothes didn’t abate. When you tried for another grab, his ribs started to rattle once more and his smile had twitched into a small frown.
Now several steps away from him with your hands firmly in your pockets, you’re doing your best to coax him into trying on the Soulfound clothing.
“C’mon buddy,” you try, motioning to the Soulfound clothes he was currently strangling the life out of. “The sooner you try them on, the sooner you can change back out of them.” Powder’s eye-sockets go ovular, squinting up at you with all the suspicion of a cat sniffing tenuously at a “not at all suspicious” treat sitting in a cat crate. Amused but exasperated, you pushed ‘Trust, Truth, Plea’ at him with your lips pursed. “Don’t look at me like that mister, I’m not gonna take anything, I’ve learned my lesson.”
Clearly still not trusting you what-so-ever, he nudged his shirt further behind him with his foot and motioned for you to turn around with his other hand – you rolled your eyes, put your hands up at either shoulder and complied. His clothes shuffled audibly, sweatpants landing on the counter with a barely audible thump and you found yourself rocking on your heels, eventually mumbling a bit. “Those are Soulfound clothes, you know?” Bone rattled, the timing almost like he was making conversation. “Like, supposedly they’ll change into clothing that you like, texture, style, even colour! ”
He rattles again, shuffling and scuffing his feet; your mouth fires off before you can catch up with it. “Monster magic is so neat, mostly because it gave me you…”
Bone clicked against the countertop, a short and sharp ‘rat-ta-tap’ and you peeked over your shoulder. Your Soulfound’s eyes have gone large and rippley and soft, his entire face flushed rich blue, but you find your own gaze drawn to how his SF clothes are beginning to change; with his current clothing preference in mind, you’d gone for the sweatpants and T-shirt combo, though Powder had been insistent on pointing at SF clothing that looked like a featureless hoodie.
Currently, Powder’s SF shirt had changed from a featureless white to black with white patterning that made it look like a simplified ribcage. Over top that, he wore a dark blue, unzipped and fur lined hoodie, the fur of the hood so thick that it seemed to wreathe his skull and shoulders in an almost comically fluffy way. His sweatpants have also turned black, with the cuffs of his pant-legs coloured white and his feet clothed by untied, baby pink sneakers. His eyes wrinkle eagerly, hands held out to the side – you peer curiously at the gloves he wore, staying a plain grey-white with black fingertips – in a clear ‘Tadaaaaa!’ sort of motion.
His eye-sockets wrinkled eagerly at you, so excited that you found yourself eagerly clapping. “Ahhh, you look so good!” He flushes his namesake, his shoulders doing a little shiver that causes the fur of his hood to fluff and increase in size. “Oh! Oh, that’s why you do that!”
His shoulder shake stops, the fur settling and you lean closer, lifting a hand. “That hoodie looks so soft, can I..?”
Powder’s arms lift up towards you, his chest rumbling with his happy grinding as your fingers carefully sweep down his hoodie – you bite back an eager coo at the way his face nudges into your hand, gently curving a finger around his skull so he can nip and nuzzle your fingertips more effectively. “Very cute, very soft,” Your hand drifts, creeps towards the discarded clothes. “Now can I-”
His teeth close in a sharper, more proper nibble as his eye opens his eye-socket to squint “aggressively” at you.
You sigh and resign yourself to having a somewhat stinky Soulfound.
Tuesday:
For the first two days, two days you’d had off from your work, your Soulfound had been incredibly sleepy, lethargic and almost lackadaisical at times – you hardly saw his sockets open for more than a few hours outside of yesterday when you’d had him try on all of the Soulfound clothing DeepC had given you. Most of his clothing tended to lean towards looser and softer fabrics, some of the shirts having gibberish writing (only to you apparently) that had made him burst into his silent, puffing laughter.
Now, however, it was time to go back to work.
It had taken a bit of bribing — your Soulfound was quite allergic to going outside — by offering to let him ride along in the hood of your own hoodie. He’s tucked down into the hood — not fur lined, you’d playfully bemoaned, promising to get your own so that the both of you could match — and promptly dozed off the whole ride here.
“Alright buddy, we’re here!” You chirped brightly, Powder huffing a sleepy breath against your neck and lifting his skull to peer out the car window at the store. The curved edge of his nasal ridge tickled your skin, his teeth parting and clicking in quiet curiousity.
Your job as a personal shopper wasn’t much, and you mostly did it to give yourself something to do during the day – truthfully, you were very well off in the cash department, seeing as it turns out your family had relics of ancient monsterkind. They had been validated by several turtle and tortoise monsters and sold at prices that had made your eyes water.
Turning your car off, you hopped out and slung your bag over the shoulder opposite to where Powder was settled. “Bag shut?” He shifted, leaning over to peer, and then nudged his skull to your neck. “Alright! Just a reminder; nip me if you get overwhelmed, tap if you need food or water, and if you don’t want anyone touching you, just wave me down and I’ll get you out of there!” Powder leaned his entire body against you, and went still, presumably asleep once more.
Making sure your car was locked, you reached over your shoulder to pet your thumb across Powder’s skull and made your way inside.
You waved idly at your manager as you walked past, though you were almost immediately halted by his eager gasp.
“Oh, my, GOODNESS!”
Powder jolted, flinching against your neck and rattling quietly — you close your hand over him, his teeth gently nipping at your fingers.
Completely breaking his conversation with another manager, he almost immediately jogs over to you, his bright hazel eyes wide and excited and completely fixated on where Powder is currently trying to burrow through your neck to hide away. Gently rubbing your thumb over your Soulfound’s fur hood and the curve of his neck vertebrae, you smile at your manager with a pleased flush coming over your cheeks. “Heya, Ry-Ry!”
“Don’t you dare “Ry-Ry” me!” He hisses, reaching out to playfully swat at the shoulder opposite of your Soulfound — Powder’s claws dig sharply into your skin, his bone rattling becoming a little more aggressive, though your boss doesn’t notice as he continues his dramatics. “You didn’t tell me that you summoned this cutie! What’s their name? Have you met your Soulmate yet? ”
Leaning away from his grabby hands and shielding Powder from his inquiries with your hand, you continue towards the back. “First, his name is Powder Blue. Second, unfortunately no. And thirdly , in my defense, I just summoned him like, two days ago.” Ryan’s eyes thin and slant at you, one finger coming up to flick at your temple. Dodging his jabbing and poking and probably making Powder sway with your scrambling, you yelp, “And it’s literally my first day back!”
Ryan finally backs off, flapping his hand in your face. “Sure, suuuure. Where are you gonna keep him while you work?”
Powder answers this for you — tipping his weight backwards, your Soulfound slinking backwards off of your shoulder, and falling into the hood of your hoodie, shuffling around until he was comfortably situated.
You ignore the nearly inaudible squeal Ryan lets out, scooting into the back and into the breakroom.
When several of your coworkers, monster and human alike, spot your Soulfound, something tells you it’s going to be a long… long shift.
Well… you were correct.
As it turned out, in spite of his sleepy eyes and constant napping, Powder was a bit of a mischief maker.
When you’d made your way onto the work-floor, you found that all of his lethargy seemed to slide right off of him all at once — he was bright eyed and surprisingly social with your coworkers, flashing winks and finger guns and pantomiming some attempts at jokes. In spite of his rattling and grumbling at Ryan’s closeness, Powder was oddly eager to soak up the coos and fawning he’d gotten from your coworkers; all of you would later find out that this little cute act was a trap .
One coworker — a big, burly bear of a black man with an equally bear-like… well, bear Soulfound sitting on his shoulder — had been so enamoured by his large eyelights and charming smirk, that he had reached down to take his little, proffered hand.
You’d only seen it for a second, more focused on eyeing the increasingly annoyed looking Soulfound on his shoulder, but suddenly Powder’s eyelights flashed, became small and sharp and abruptly he jumped with a rather girlish squeal while Powder started up his puffing snickers.
Somehow your Soulfound had gotten his hands on a little squeaker toy, one that was so deafeningly loud that it had startled your coworker into yelping.
His bear Soulfound was not amused.
Glancing at where he was dozing in the front seat, you huffed and sat back in your seat, annoyed and amused and endeared all at once.
”Brat.”
His teeth twitched, eye-lights slitting open to wink lazily at you and then slide shut.
Wednesday:
Getting up in the morning has become significantly harder since you got around to summoning your Soulfound — not for any sort of emotional reason or anything.
Well…
Okay, correction; it wasn’t for any sort of negative emotional reason.
It was moreso that Powder was a lazy little fucker who was weirdly persuasive when he wanted to be, and he seemed to have figured out that, in the about 3 days since you’d first summoned him, that if he widened his eye sockets at you and made his little eyelights wobble and ripple juuuuuust right, you’d usually cave into whatever he’d demand of you.
(It also helped that he very, very rarely deployed this little tactic outside of begging for “5 more minutes”.)
You blink at the ceiling, your chest heavy and buzzing with a grating, grinding sound.
”You’re a brat.”
The grinding fades, the weight on your chest shifts, and Powder sits up until his eyesockets are just barely able to peek over the crest of your chest and chin.
Grinding louder — listen, you couldn’t call it purring, it wasn’t purring, it was too chalky and rough sounding, like… well, like bone on bone — Powder blinks slowly at you and curves his teeth up in a friendly little smirk and clicks his teeth at you.
You try for a scowl.
To reeeeally rub it in, he makes a point of squirming side to side, burrowing down into your cleavage and grinning smugly as he does so.
Your head falls back.
“You are such a brat.”
The “ire” in your voice sounds so fake, you huff a giggle, equal parts fond and maybe a little annoyed, one hand coming beneath his legs to steady him as you sit up. He releases a loud puff of air back at you when you do, though his eyelights have stayed wobbly and soft so you have a feeling he’s not too upset about being shifted around like this. Lifting him to your shoulder, you stagger out of bed and stretch — his phalanges twist in your hair to steady himself, his hand patting the side of your neck with an emphatic coo when you finish it off with a shiver.
You have the strangest feeling he’d have said something along the lines of “Ooh, big stretch.” if he could.
Chuckling at your imagined silliness, you offer your palm to your shoulder. He rejects it by gently digging his claws into your neck, settling down closer to the dip of your collarbones and nuzzling his skull against your skin. Huffing at his clinginess – fondly of course, he was quite sweet when you were in private – your hand drops and you start towards the bathroom, “C’mon buddy, we got half of today to ourselves, and I want to head into the monster district after work.”
His skull shifts against your throat, his claws pinching a little more and you wave a hand, using the opposing shoulder to gently bump the door open. “Oh stop it, I just want to look around and see if I can get any monster food for you.”
He clacks his bones a few times — with him still incapable of talking, you were finding that he still seemed to have a way of “speaking” to you even without him utilizing Intent.
Clicking his teeth, depending on the strength, seemed to mean anything from a friendly hello to a small “I’d like to be left alone” to even just a motion of acknowledgement akin to nodding your head at someone when they speak.
His bones rattling was a little harder to decipher and seemed to be used as more of an emphasizing motion, the same way one would wave their hands as they spoke.
This rattle seemed to be a noise of weary curiosity so, as you nudge him off of your shoulder and set him down on the countertop, you clarify, “DeepC says you haven’t been consuming my magic as much as you should be and I’m concerned, yknow?” Powder’s sockets click, ‘Sorry, Worry, Confused’ brushing across your Soul. You gently brushed him back with ‘Love, Okay, Pleased’ , sweeping your thumb over his cheek and softening your tone with Hope. “We figured that if I started getting you monster food, the active magic should help you!”
Powder’s teeth grind a small amount, eyelights flickering off to the side. He thinks for a long moment, one of his little hands holding your hand against his cheek before he bobs his head and grinds out a purr for you.
Smiling back at him, you kiss the top of his little skull and step back to start stripping your shirt.
Ever the gentleman, your Soulfound sits and leans forward with his elbows on his knees, the soft white of his openly roaming eye-lights hooded by his eye-sockets. You didn’t feel all too odd changing your clothes in front of your Soulfound – Powder was your Soul afterall, he’d more than likely seen everything at least once – and the first time you’d done so, he’d been very obvious in his appreciation of your form.
Crossing your arms in front of your boobs, you glare playfully down at him.
His grin crooks, twitching into a playful pout when you point aggressively at the faucet. “Those don’t work on me bud,” You huff, bopping his nasal ridge with your nail – humorously, his teeth part in mock affront, like a cat having been booped. “You need a bath dude; somehow you sweat more than I do, and I walk all day!”
His shoulders rise and lower in a dramatic sigh, tiny hands coming up in a motion of exaggerated surrender. When your hands don’t leave your breasts, your little Soulfound starts to strip with all the painstaking slowness of a toddler being forced into formal wear – lil brat even had the audacity to look over his shoulder and pout.
Powder runs the edge of the cut up washcloth across his ribcage, tipping his skull towards the running shower to listen idly for his Originator’s Soul – their concern was open and honest and loud when they’d been expressing their concern for the state of his magic consumption, though now their Soul hummed with gentle content and joy as they washed.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he wasn’t consuming their magic as quickly as expected either; from what he intrinsically knew about his own magibiology, he should be well into being able to talk and use his unique magic at this point. He’d tried speaking several times, his pseudo-throat only emitting wordless squeaks and chirps and trills – Powder tolerated his Originator’s eager squealing the first time he’d chirped with nothing more than a blue skull and grumbly trills.
Dunking under the slowly dripping faucet, Powder drew the washcloth across the top of his skull and angled his sockets towards the ceiling.
He could feel himself consuming trace amounts of their magic whenever they were watching shows together, or when they allowed him to ride in their hoodie as they worked, so he wasn’t quite sure why it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t a large Soulfound by any means – that bear Soulfound at his Originator’s job was much larger than he was, and according to her Originator, had taken a full day to start speaking but the point was that she’d started speaking.
Powder sighs, presses his claws to his nasal ridge and shakes himself aggressively.
Thinking about it too hard would only give him a migraine, make him angry, and stress him out which he didn’t need right now.
The sweet-musky smell of vanilla and cedarwood made his face twitch and a grinding purr rumble up in his chest, his head tilting back towards the shower. With steam wafting up over the top of the curtain, he watched their shadow stretch and arch, hands obviously scratching through their hair with shampoo. Powder inhaled as he watched them, tipped his nasal ridge up into the air and breathed that sweet musk into his… well, not lungs. Chest?
Powder breathed in that pleasant, sweet scent, forcing himself to relax and continue washing his own body.
They would figure this out, both of them.
As he rinsed the remnants of Soulfound safe soap off of his skull, Powder fought back the anxious niggling in the back of his mind.
Sure, he wasn’t consuming his Originator’s passive magic as fast as he should have, he wasn’t getting any closer to speaking or using his unique magic, and maybe he was stressing about that…
But something told Powder to wait; all he needed to do was wait and sit back and this would ride itself out, he would be fine.
Peering around the monster-centric Farmer’s Market, you scuff your foot – well no, apparently monsters had gone for a more “all encompassing” title and simply called it “Market”. Not to be confused with a market, Market was a gorgeous stretch of the monster district, stalls and shops of all kinds lining the streets as Duplicates and Originals alike traversed the streetway. Some Dupes walked shoulder to shoulder with their fellow Dupe, those from the Fallen layer talking in harsh tones with their softer Shifted layer selves, some Famine monsters speaking in genial croons with their Fallen and Shifted selves.
It wasn’t lost on you that you seemed to be the only human that walked the streets.
Your eyes skittered from shop to shop, flicking from a shop selling what looked like glowing rocks of all kinds to a shop selling what appeared to be just wooden planks decorated with specks of magical paint. Everything was so, so pretty, monsters of all shapes and sizes walking, slithering and floating along, chattering and laughing together.
Your mouth slipped into a smile when two monsters in stripes raced past you, chirping and laughing all the while.
Against your neck, hidden away beneath your hood and tucked beneath the curve of your chin, Powder seemed to be muffling his rattling by pressing his side against your skin and nibbling at your skin – your Soulfound really, really didn’t like it here.
Forcing your shoulders into a relaxed slump, and humming an idle tune, you started down the street. Keeping your eyes out for any stalls that looked especially like they sold food or consumable items of any kind, you did your best to weave through the crowd as inconspicuously as possible, steps light and as meandering as you could.
As you walked, you pretended not to see the way monsters immediately parted for you, Famine monsters unwilling to look your way, Shifted monsters offering you awkward smiles, Fallen monsters sneering and wrenching their otherselves out of your “path” – you made sure to weave out of their way before their poor selves could be yanked too badly.
Though… it seems that you wouldn’t get much of a choice when someone stepped into your path.
Slamming to a halt just before you could run into the mystery figure at full force, you scramble back with your hands flying up, one coming to make sure that Powder wouldn’t be thrown off as you yip, “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying atte-”
“What is a human like you doing here?” Comes the snarling voice, your eyes landing on a tall and spindly, hare-like being outfitted in the aggressive blacks and reds of a Fallen monster. Tall ears angle fully forward, thick black fur spilling out of their tube top as one hand comes down to rest on their hip as jagged red eyes thinned down at you. You jealously curse Monster biology for making all of them heads and shoulders taller than humans, this particular hare being tall enough that you were certain that the top of your cranium would barely brush their chin.
In a breath, monsters around the both of you stopped moving entirely; feeling the beginning of an Encounter starting to fuzz around the edges of your senses, you quickly hold your palms out flat and smile small and relaxed while projecting merciful Intent. It jostles Powder on your shoulder, his feet slipping on your shirt before he catches himself on a lock of your hair.
“Hey, it’s, uh, it’s okay!” You chirp, keeping your smile as bright as you can without fully bearing your teeth at the crowd. “I’m friendly! Just poking my head in here and looking around, y’know?” The hare’s eyes thin further at your words, their fur bristling and several mean spirited sniggers make you flush and hunch.
“Uh huh.” They hiss coldly, shifting another threatening step closer. “Friendly” don’t mean much comin’ from you humans, now do it? “Looking around” can mean “looking for trouble” to some folks.”
Your smile wavers at the edges, leaks of fear slithering into your projected Intent. Around you, monsters shuffle, the tougher ones amid them eagerly leaning forward in reaction to your slip up. While monster attacks on humans were fairly rare, and even more rarely did they leave lasting injuries, those statistics came mainly from human owned districts.
Glancing around briefly, making eye contact with a few Famine monsters as you do, you take a deep breath and relax again.
When you turn back to the hare monster, ignoring the way Powder rattles in offense beneath your hood, you plead with them as earnestly as you can. “I know. I know that humans have caused monsters nothing but pain and I’m sorry, but it’s…” Swallowing back tears of frustration and your own agonizing feeling of inadequacy, you meet their eye and shove as much pleading and desperation and apologetic Intent into your words as you can muster. “Something is wrong with my Soulfound and I’m desperate to know what’s going on.”
Around you both, monsters shuffle and break into hushed murmurs, ‘Surprise, Disbelief, Suspicion’ filling the air as your peanut gallery begins to speak in The Ancient Tongue.
At your throat, clearly fed up with just listening, Powder pokes his skull out. Your hand comes up to curve around him as he peers at your surroundings and the speech turns to ‘Surprise, Delight, Awe’ when the watching monsters finally register the little body tucked into your hood.
The hare across from you pauses, tall ears flicking once, twice… and then they fall back, draping across the back of their head and across their shoulders like a black and red curtain of hair. Their shoulders drop from the offensive square they’d sported this entire time, red eyes relaxing into soft a soft rosy pink as the hum of a pending Encounter fades into nothing.
Running a paw over their fur, they exhale and squint sharply at you. “...go to Cinnaster.” They finally say, stepping aside and motioning aggressively down the street. Around you, monsters start wandering away in droves now that an Encounter won’t happen, Shifted and Famine monsters dragging away their disappointed Fallen brethren. You blink blankly at them, and get an annoyed sneer that reveals jagged fangs in place of the bucked teeth and flat molars you would have expected. “They’re my Shifted self and they’re knowledgeable on the matters of the Soul. If something’s truly wrong with your Found, they’ll be able to tell you.”
Relief.
Relief and joy floods your body so strongly that you know that your Soul starts to all but scream it – judging from the way the hare monster before you twitches and flusters, you would be correct.
Nonetheless, you breathe a soft “Thank you.” as earnestly as you can manage, Powder’s sleeve reaching across your cheek to carefully wipe at your eyes as tears begin to stream. Wrinkling their snout and snarling at you, the hare monster turns and marches away with all the hurried grace of a flustered, punk teenager being told that they did some good deed.
Rubbing a shaking thumb over Powder’s little bony hand and ignoring the adoring sounds of the vendors nearby, you start off down the street again.
Powder doesn’t like it here.
He doesn’t like the open staring from those monsters who smelled like dust and iron, the hostile sizing from the ones clad in black and spikes, even the wary stares and frowns of the normal ones.
A rattle starts up in his sternum when a dog monster’s eyes linger for a beat too long.
His Originator gently smoothes their thumb across his cheek, drawing his attention back to the street in front of them – stalls pass by, one by one, all of them selling clothing and little items, knickknacks and baubles.
No monster food.
“I should have asked where Cinnaster is,” they suddenly say, huffing a brief, self deprecating chuckle. “But that was really scary, you know. I was so… so freaked out! I couldn’t think of much more than just…” Their hands wave, miming a person fleeing – they both share a brief, terse chuckle when they make the “fleeing” person trip with a dramatic splat.
Powder nods along emphatically, clicking his teeth. Truthfully, he had some idea that they’d get confronted just for being here, but he just hadn’t expected it to be so abrupt nor so immediate. A confrontation from a Fallen wasn’t anything overly off, as far as he could tell from his Originator’s memories; Fallen monsters tended towards actions over words, their Intent expressed in what they did and how they moved versus words the same way some Shifted and Originals did.
Though, from the way his Originator had reacted, flinching into themselves and immediately projecting Mercy, they didn’t seem well versed in the Intention differences beyond the spoken variants. That monster hadn’t been itching for a Fight, though Powder wasn’t happy they’d been gearing up to pull his Originator into an Encounter either.
“You still with me, Blue?” Powder blinks several times to bring himself into the present, nudging his skull to the side of their jaw with a questioning click. Their finger comes up to prod at his belly region, speaking in a soft voice. “I see a food stall but…”
He sees it too. Ahead of them and just barely peeking from around the corner that seemed to lead out of Market and into the official monster Overground region, was the gaudiest stall he’d seen so far. It was glitzy and flashy and swarmed by Fallen monsters of all types, seemingly manned by an army of little, ember-like monsters that flickered and pulsed with shiny purple lights. Their main weariness seemed to come from the presence of a large, well…
Saying that the being was made of “fire” would suggest that it gave off light and warmth – the tall, masculine figure made of writhing black flames that was currently giggling manically and leaping from person to person was… well, his colour didn’t seem very warm, but then scorch marks he left with his hands did. He was wreathed by a furred, cropped coat, the edges of his black flames writhing and flashing purple, the rest of his body clad in what could only be described as some mish-mash of a showman’s uniform and a bartender’s outfit.
Glancing back down the street they just came from, Powder snaps around fully when he spots a somewhat familiar hare monster; they seemed to be talking to an aquatic monster of some kind, one whose head hovered a few inches off of their neck and flicked an esca before their narrow, down-turned eyes. On the monster's shoulder was a small human who seemed happy if somewhat dazed looking, currently being felt over by the hare’s long, curved claws.
He feels a little bad for how aggressively he nips at his Originator’s neck, though the way they perk up is definitely worth the hiss of pain he hears as he does so.
“Ow!” You yip, flinching at the feeling of your Soulfound’s teeth nipping closed on your jugular. When you turn towards him with the intention of scolding him – seriously, tapping you works just as well – you spot what he seems to have been getting your attention over.
A hare monster, both familiar and not, is currently waving away a sleek, slug-fish monster. Your eyes flick from their slumped ears to the little figure on the monster’s shoulder.
A mini human – a Soulfound.
You’re turning away from the scary, black fire showman’s stand and crossing the street before you can fully figure out what you’re going to say.
Stopping just a few feet away, you offer the monster a polite brush of Intent, painting on your best ‘please help me’ smile when they turn after a brief startle. Long ears flick up, perked fully and adding at least a foot more to their already ridiculous height, one clawed hand coming to their chest. “Oh!” They gasp, pausing for just a minute and then tilting their head in a mix of open curiosity and some mild hostility. “A human, in the monster district? Now how did tha-”
Powder chooses this moment to poke his head out and click his teeth at them in greeting, the hare monster’s mouth falling open – you can’t help but notice that, despite the first hare monster describing Cinnaster as their “Shifted self”, they seem to be a Fallen monster.
You hope this is Cinnaster.
Figuring the “jig” was up, you flip your hood back to let Powder be fully seen, throwing up awkward jazz hands and uttering a meek, “ Ta-daaaaa! ”
Cinnaster glances from Powder, to you, and then schools their open surprise into something more professional. “Well… by the Kings beards, and here I thought a monster with a human Soulfound was gonna be the weirdest thing I saw today.” Smiling towards you with what felt like practiced neutrality, they tilt their head back towards their stall; you don’t know how you’d managed to walk past it so easily earlier. Where the stalls around it were inviting shades of green and soft blue, their stall was accented by deep, bloody reds and royal purples. “Please, join me. I’m fascinated with today’s outcomes.”
The sheer amount of gratefulness that floods your body is so overwhelming that you actually sway on your feet, Powder patting frantically at your skin when your swaying becomes a little too sharp for his liking.
Staggering over your own two feet, you scramble to follow the hare back to their stall. Long, lapine (and spurred, now that you were looking) legs and feet allow them to eat up the distance, somewhat leaving you behind as they duck beneath the shiny curtain of beads and sleek fabric that covers the entrance to their stall. Glancing back behind yourself one last time, you quickly follow them into the dimmed space.
What greets you is the potent hum of magic – the walls lined with, what you have to assume are, magical artifacts and doodads, glowing plant-life and rocks that look almost malleable . You pause at a floating orb of… something viscous that hums a deep song at you, the low rattle of Powder’s bones being the only thing that keeps you from reaching out and touching.
Looking past it, you meet Cinnaster’s amused gaze where they’ve sat themselves down at a table, their eyes flicking from the viscous orb and then back to you. “Good idea, not touching it.” They chuckle, motioning for you to sit across from them. As you scramble over, their long legs cross at the knee, angled just enough so that their spurs don’t knock. “It would have blown up and left everything you owned stained in your Soul colour.”
Powder snaps his teeth a few times, the hare monster’s eyes flicking towards him with the sort of detached interest that one would watch a puppy yap at empty air.
Your hand comes up to shield your Soulfound — both from Cinnaster and from him.
Flicking their eyes back to you, Cinnaster’s face slips into that practiced smile once more. “Now, you said your Soulfound was having issues?”
“Ye-yeah… According to a monster friend of mine, he’s not consuming my magic nearly as fast as he should be!” Cinnaster’s eyebrows raise, sharp red eyes snapping to Powder and then back to you. “I’ve had Powder for two-three days now? And he’s still not speaking, still hasn’t used any magic, and… he’s not a big Soulfound, y’know? So I’m not sure why he’s not…”
Cinnaster’s eyes widen when yours start to water, your chest aching with a sense of inadequacy, Powder leaning over your collarbones to trill and click at you as he furiously dabbed at your waterline with his sleeve. Sniffling and huffing pathetically, you flash the monster a quick ‘Sorry, Embarrassed, Sad’ as you scrub at your own face as well.
Uncrossing their legs, the hare monster hums and reaches into the space over their hip, procuring a handkerchief from… somewhere on their person. When your fingers brush, you’re somewhat startled by the flash of ‘Soothe, Quiet, Safe’ that races up your arm from the contact point — your flinch in surprise, pulling back and Cinnaster raises an eyebrow. “Are you well, human?”
“Y-Yea! Yeah, I’m…” You rub the square against your cheek, mopping up whatever tears Powder had missed before you pause and then shake yourself briefly. “Sorry, uhm… thank you for the uh, handkerchief.”
They smile and nod, re-crossing their legs and leaning back in their seat. “Think nothing of it, the reaction is perfectly reasonable.” Cinnaster purrs, one taloned hand coming to their chin to tap and pull at the grey hairs there. Their red eyes flick from Powder, to your face, and then back, their ears shifting and flicking to rest behind their shoulders. “I have a theory, though I would have to hold your Soulfound. May I?
The question was very obviously not aimed at his Originator — it was aimed at him.
Powder’s hoodie fur bristles, his nasal ridge wrinkling ever so slightly as he leans back. The hare monster doesn’t lift their hands, nor do they extend any sort of coaxing Intent his way, instead shifting their gaze to look at his Originator with calm eyes. “I won’t harm your Soulfound, nor will I force him to come to me, but I understand that you are scared for him.”
His snarl vanishes, eyelights snapping to his Originator and then back, thin and annoyed and begrudgingly impressed.
Most open manipulation he’d ever seen, and he was mad that it was working.
Before they could reach up or even turn to look at him pleadingly, Powder slid down the front of their shirt, pushing off to land in an awkward stumble. Both monster and human jolt, though his human is the one that scolds him by flicking the side of his skull — he grins, flashing them a wink and then scowling at Cinnaster.
Their eyes flicked between him and his human, fur at their neck settling after another second or so. “Right, well… ahem,” His eyes snapped down to the paw they extended towards him. “Please come here, Powder. I need to touch you for a few seconds to get a read on your Soul fragment.”
“Go on, Blue.” His human whispers, gently touching their finger to his spine when he hesitates. His eyes flicker, carefully looking across their hesitant features and then flicking back to the hare monster.
His Originator's pride is loud when he edges forward, sinking his claws into the thick fluff covering the monster's palms.
“There we are, now…” The hare’s paws crackle with Green and Cyan, the alternating magical natures setting his teeth on edge. Within his core, his human’s Soul fragment reacts to the pulses by attempting to retreat to its point of origin, one of his hands leaving their paw to press over the persistent ache. “Ah.”
“Ah? What do you mean? Good or…”
Powder shudders at the feeling of probing Green magic, rattling anxiously and leaning back towards his human; their eyes are locked on Cinnaster, unblinkingly taking in the monster’s suddenly tense face, and bucked up ears. “Well, it would depend on how you personally feel about it,” They say, carefully peeling their paws out from beneath him — he immediately retreats to his human’s grasp, soothing himself by nibbling at the skin at their knuckles, their thumb pressing to his skull and rubbing anxiously. “I will say that your Soulfound is very healthy, and only appears as though he’s not consuming enough magic.”
Powder’s brow ridge furrows, his own mental question echoed out loud by his human. ““Appears?” What, like…”
Cinnaster’s eyes wrinkle in a dry, still terse grimace. “It would seem that the reason that your Soulfound doesn’t seem like he’s consuming enough magic is that your Soulmate is a Boss Monster.”
You feel Powder shift in your hand, though you can barely register anything beyond those two words;
“Boss Monster.”
A very specific subset of monsters that stood a league above the rest in terms of magical capabilities, the class of Boss Monster was not an easily acquired one; you’d heard that they were far more rare amidst the Fallen monsters, and the Famine monsters had seemingly done away with Boss monsters altogether, trading them in for a far, far more terrifying class — Lethal Monsters.
You shuddered.
Boss Monsters didn’t exactly mean that they were more cruel necessarily, but you also weren’t 100% sure if Powder was a Famine, or Original monster yet and honestly, you don’t think you’d fare well with a Lethal Monster for a Soulmate.
Cinnaster continues on in spite of your stunned silence, lifting their paw away from Powder and tapping at the longer hairs at their chin. “I’m somewhat surprised the monster who helped you summon him in the first place didn’t realize it, seeing that your Soulfound is basically a magic well right now.” Your eyes flicker to the back of Powder's skull and then back, brows furrowed. “All that means is that he’s absorbing magic from anywhere and everywhere; he will be fine, you just need to feed him some more magically rich foods, you were on the right track initially.”
They push themselves up, walking to the back of their stall — feeling awkward and out of place, you hurry to stand with them too. Their ears have fallen back against their shoulders, falling in front of their body when they turn and hold out a weirdly shaped… pear? You think it was a pear at least.
It has pincers…
You… Don’t think this is a normal pear.
“Here, take this.” Powder shifts, a quick look down at the little guy showing him squinting between their outstretched paw and their face; Cinnaster huffs in amusement. “It’s a Lobster Pear, cousin to the Crab Apple. Most monsters don’t bother with these due to the weak amount of magic they contain, but for Soulfounds? This magic is the equivalent of consuming concentrated human magic straight from the source.”
Fingers clenching ever so slightly around Powder’s shoulders, your shoulders hunch. “Oh, I shouldn’t, well I mean, I don’t h-”
“Hush, human .” Cinnaster huffs as they plant the strange, elongated pear into your free hand, turning back to ruffle around the back of their stall as you blink owlishly. Finally, they make a noise and hold up a whole bag of the strange lobster looking fruit, they shove the bag into your arms. “Without this, your Soulfound won’t speak until the next Surfacing Day.”
Fingers curling around the fruit, you blink hard and sniffle.
As Cinnaster makes a small noise of discomfort, tears begin to bead your lash-line and track down your cheeks; in your hand, Powder makes a soft chirping sound and pushes himself further into your grasp in alarm. Squeezing and pulling your Soulfound to your chest, you force your Soul to project your gratefulness as loudly as you can, looking the hare monster in the eye. ”Thank you. Thank you, so so-“
“You don’t need to thank me.” They snap, stepping back and closing themselves off by aggressively crossing their arms. Turning their muzzle away — but glaring at you from the corner of their eye — they continue in a huff. “ Especially not with Intent, I’m only doing what any monster should.” Flicking their paws dismissively at you, you find yourself aggressively ushered from their stall, stumbling backwards foot over foot as they encroach. “Now go on, go home and feed this to him in small portions. Eat a few yourself, no more than three whole pears in a 8 hour period, and see if that helps. With the stronger magics flowing through you, Powder, wasn't it? Powder will be able to draw more from you without fear of you Falling.”
Heyo! im Blood Blossom Tree/BBtree or ya can call me Asterisk!
Im 22 and have been studying art for 7 years (currently in my last year of university). My work focuses on healing journeys with an emphasis found family, queer community and characters with disabilities <3
I am:
uk based
Autistic and queer as hell
HEAVY into fandom history and general subculter
v~~~where to fined my work~~~v
You can find me:
on tiktok
on artfight
on Bluesky (WIP)
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hello fellow artists. google has fallen. pinterest/duckduckgo AI filters don't work. do not despair; here is a list i made of places to find reference images without having to sift through piles of worthless garbage. (for future editing convenience i am just linking my blog post on dreamwidth.)
✨ good places to find art reference that are not full of AI trash 🌈
Trigger Warning before you read this fic: Suicidal Reader, Thwarted Suicide Attempt, the skeletons are really, REALLY bad at talking down the Reader
I wrote this when I wasn't in the best mind space and then I really liked it so, y'know enjoy.
When you finally gave in to the urge to break away from the party — slipping between human and monster alike, creeping your way to the second (third story maybe? you were kind of out of it truthfully) and onto the one floor that had a balcony — you slipped past ornate glass doors and onto the terrace.
Once your feet hit the overlapped wooden slats of the deck, a sort of… unnatural calm swept over your being.
The wind curled her way through your hair like the soft caress of a lover, a friend, sweeping her spidering palms over your scalp and legs, fluffing the body of your dress and billowing layers of skirts up and out — distantly, you couldn’t help wondering if you looked like one of those beautiful tropical birds from below.
You certainly hope so.
Somewhere, people started to yell, their voices a clashing and rising clamour of… something. Panic, or concern, or horror. Maybe all three.
You didn’t really care, they were just distracting you now, distracting you from the sea of stars above you, your hand lifting of its own volition — the stars shine, just out of your reach.
One foot lifts, the heel falling away, clattering noisily to the floor, your toes pressing daintily to the terrace’s railings, bracing as you heave yourself up to stand, skirts billowing and flowing and flying about your body as your remaining shoe falls away as well — you extend your hand again, curl your fingers like you're shielding a small, shivering flame from the soft brushes of the wind.
The stars shine, just out of your reach.
The anguish you feel at the rejection is familiar; it’s a friend, a comforting bed covered with blankets that make you bleed and itch and leave scar after scar after scar upon your form.
Somewhere, deep, deep within yourself, down beneath the center of your sternum and buried under the sturdy bones, something gives a painful little “crack”.
You smile at the stars, peel your lips back until they crack and bleed, tears warping and distorting your view of the stars — in all of their impassive beauty, they twinkle and glitter and dance amid themselves.
You’d been Patient, you’d been Brave, you’d been Kind, you’d been Perseverent, you’d had Integrity, you’d had a sense of Justice, you played by all the right rules and said all the right things!
Desperate to dance with them, to glitter and twinkle alongside them, you hold your hand out further, spreading your fingers wide — the stars are no longer cupped within, no longer is that flame guarded, hidden away from the cruel winds that seek to snuff it out — you reach and reach and reach-
“heh.”
Your forward tilt stops.
The winds stop.
Your skirts drop and suddenly-
“whatcha doin’ up here, kiddo?”
You are no longer alone.
When you turn on your heels, twisting over your shoulder towards the figure behind you, slow pressure forms within your chest — it’s not the agony from earlier, no, it’s too soft and comforting for that. It’s a soft pressure, a pressure that forcefully steadies you when you wobble for just a split second.
You blink, startling at the deep, plum-violet dots that stare back at you, pulsing slowly as though flickering in time with an unheard heartbeat.
“Hello.”
Grainy white bone shifts, the space above the figures eyes — eye sockets, deep black pits only inhabited by small red-plum pips that pulse and flicker to some mysterious beat — wrinkling as though they were eyebrows, two brow ridges forming to contort his eye sockets into discontent. Your eyes meander down his face; it was a handsome face… in a… monster sorta way.
He was tall, tall enough that should you have been standing next to him, only the very top of your head would brush his collarbones if not barely brushing the center of his sternum — your eyes flicker, blinking owlishly at the four, massive silver fangs that jut out of a jagged, toothy maw. His cheeks were sharp, literally sharp, hooked and curved outwards on his face, making his face appear narrow and closed off. As your eyes shift, you note that his face is speckled with little pockmarks and nicks, and between even those marks are little, shiny purple spots and speckles. From the edges of his silver fangs and leading both up into his eye sockets and down his chin are jagged cracks, seemingly filled in with additional shiny metal that glitters and gleams beneath the stars.
He glitters and gleams.
A star stands behind you.
Flicking his eyes — eyelights? little bouncing plums in the center of his eyes, flickering and pulsing like a live wire — the tall figure takes another step closer.
“i dunno ‘bout you, sugar,” he starts, his voice low and smokey and you blink slowly at the steady plume of sweet plum purple that wisps out from between his jagged teeth when they part; the wind brings some of it your way, sweeps the soft purple smog into your face and brings the smell of something savoury and mouth watering into your senses. “but i ain’t a bird, and last i checked, some of you humans only get yer’ wings after ya’ die.”
You stare.
The man — monster, skeleton monster, a skeleton monster that is wearing a badass trench coat lined with thick cream fur and covered in chains and battle scars and belts — the monster tilts his head, and his eye sockets wrinkle like he’s smirking at you, eye lights flickering over the edge of the building and then back to you.
Faintly, you realize that the screaming and yelling from earlier is no longer there.
‘rat-tap, rat-tap, rat-tap’
You glance over.
The skeleton tilts his head, the chains on his many belts rattling and tapping against the thick leather of his clothes as he leans lazily on the edge of the terrace, the edge of his elbow resting right next to your feet as he relaxes onto them — more of that sweet plum smoke pours from his mouth when his teeth part to rasp, “you gonna answer me, sugar?”
Answer..? Oh, right.
“I… The stars.”
Your voice sounds strange, even to you.
Words warble and catch, the tones all off, the breathiness of your voice strange and light and catching behind your teeth and the skeleton shifts.
Rocking his skull at an angle, those sharp eyelights flick up at you, ripple and wobble even as one of his eye sockets flexes in a way reminiscent of someone cocking an eyebrow.
“the stars.” he repeats, his tone flat but ever so slightly curious, eyelights flicking skyward and back. “ya’ caused one hell of a ruckus… cuz’a the stars?”
Swallowing — and breathing in that savoury-sweet smoke, feeling the tension in your spine loosen little by little — you turn your own head skywards. “Did you know that, before monsters surfaced, some humans believed that when we die, our Souls go on to dance with the stars?”
The monster hums, shifts on his elbows, and more sweet savoury plum filters up to halo your head. When he speaks again, his tone is weary but knowing when he pointedly asks, “what’s that gotta do with why yer’ up here?”
Rocking on your heels, you lean just the smallest bit forward, your eyes drifting back towards the dancing stars above your head.
The moment your weight rocks forwards, that pressure that had taken hold of you wells up in your chest — in a snap, your Soul manifests in front of you, cracked and scarred and barely holding on, and drenched in deep purple that forces your feet to step back, balancing your soul above a line of lilac bones, one of four lines in total.
Your eyes flick accusingly down at the monster beside you.
“This doesn’t concern you, you know that right?”
The monster shifts, tilts his head so that he can look up at you through shadowed sockets, though as his fangs part a new voice cuts through the night.
“i think keepin’ yer human inner bits offa our property is his business, sweetheart.”
With the purple magic actively keeping you in place, you are incapable of moving to look at the newcomer, but some tension in the skeleton next to you seems to drain from him in one big rush. Purple smoke filters into the air again, trailing backwards as though your skeleton is moving away from you. You don’t hear any movement, or even the squeak of shoes on the terrace, but you do see someone large get up on the edge next to you, grunting a plume of bloody red smog as he does.
“so,” the mystery figure starts, his voice deep and gravelly, his words slurred like a biker from deep Brooklyn, low and rumbling like thunder from somewhere low in his barrel shaped chest. “you gotta reason fer’ trynna off yer’self up ‘ere? we don’ really fancy cleanin’ up yer’ inner stuff from the deck.”
You grunt wordlessly, eyes still on the sky.
The large figure next to you shuffles, leans sideways and abruptly the pressure on your chest eases. Little by little, you find yourself capable of movement, and the first thing you do is glance over at your bulky new terrace mate; staring down at the ground below, this new skeleton is certainly shorter than your first skeleton.
Where that last skeleton was tall and sharp and wrapped in restraints, this new skeleton was shorter — than him, this guy was certainly taller than you by at least half a head — he was rounder, and fluffier, but no less jagged and angular.
The first wore belts and chains like accessories, thin and dainty necklaces hanging from his throat like spider silks off of a branch. This new skeleton wears thicker, chunkier chains, a thick, ruby red leather and shiny gold collar locked around his neck with a long and trailing golden chain rattling off of his chest. His body was softer in shape, his overall shape language rounder and almost… Chubby looking? Additionally his body was thick in the middle, barrel-like as though he had fat and muscles and other such things filling that space.
They both wore heavy, oppressive looking coats, styled similarly but just as different as they were; the first skeleton’s coat was longer and a dark shade of grey-purple, trenchcoat-like and lined all the way around with fluffy, snow white fur and sporting very large golden teeth along the zipper. By contrast, this new skeleton was wearing a black coat with daisy yellow striping over the belly, one that looked like a zip up winter coat, only the hood being lined with thick, cream coloured fluff.
Shifting, he turns to study you as well, giving you a full view of his face.
You take in his large eye sockets — wider and rounder than the firsts, with a singular, bulging red eye light that was beginning to be cut through the middle by a slitted pupil, one that flickered just above a golden tooth shoved into a gap in his teeth. Cracks splinter off from the top of the golden tooth, right where it’s jammed into his mouth, spidering up to the bottom of his eye socket. Each crack filled with pulsing red magic, the shade and behaviour like blood rushing beneath a thin cut.
When his teeth part, you watch more of that smog ooze out; Plum’s smoke had been thin and wispy, floating away like a person’s breath in the cold, dissipating in the barest of winds. This new guy’s smoke was thick and heavy, drooping down his chest to roll out of sight over the edge like dry ice — your foot twitches sharply, edging away from the cherry red smog as it pooled around your ankles and stings at your skin.
“i got somethin’ on mah’ face, or what?” the red skeleton gruffs, his far hand reaching up to scratch beneath his collar. The gold of his tooth glitters, your eyes lingering for just a moment when it reflects the stars above your head — much like Plum, his face was covered in little pockmarks and shiny red speckles, the tilt and sway of his skull causing the bones to glimmer and shine. “are ya’ gonna get down, or do i gotta purple you down.”
You blink, shifting on your heels — you’re free, you can move, you can lean forward, you could fal-
“it ain’t worth it, darlin’.” Comes Plum Smoke’s voice, raspy and low and accompanied by the warmth as it hits you again, the soft pressure snapping back into existence, tightening like a vice around your chest — around your Soul.
Your jaw goes tense immediately, head snapping around to glare at the taller skeleton.
“Do you know how fucking tired I am?” You hiss. Plum pauses, taking a sharp step back as that tight, controlled feeling in your chest vanishes. “I am so fucking tired of hearing that, of hearing people who don’t understand my life trying to tell me how to run it! What if I’m just done? What if I’ve decided that I’ve had enough? What gives you the right to tell me that it’s not worth it?!”
Red rumbles, his shoulders shift and you whirl on him too — the skeleton’s fur hood has bristled, his shoulders hunching upwards as his severe scowl deepened. His snarling teeth part, and you bull onwards before he can say anything. “I’m so tired of people dictating my “when’ and “how”, I am sick and TIRED of people telling me,” Your voice pitches up mockingly, hands clasping to your chest as you lean into his space, “ “Oh! You’re so young, you can’t possibly be so tired yet! You have so much ahead of you, so much to do, so much be! You have so much potential!” Well, guess fucking what, I AM, I AM so fucking tired! I’m tired, I’m miserable.”
As you pant, hands balled up into your dress and both skeletons staring at you, you can’t even find it within yourself to be embarrassed in the fucking slightest. Your face flushes with your anger, your throat burning from your shouting, your eyes stinging with the ache of tears threatening to begin pouring down your face.
With a deep sigh, Plum shifts closer — he stops short when you scowl, sliding your foot threateningly towards the edge once more. Flicking those uncomfortably sharp eyes between your foot and your face, he slows his approach while holding up his massive hands. Turning so that he can lean a hip against the railing near Red Smoke’s foot, Plum sighs out, “it’ll get better, i know it don’t feel like it will, but it will. ya’ just gotta…” his claws make a motion then, something hidden behind Red’s thigh, so you squint through frustrated tears. “persevere, y’know? keep, uh… damn i’m bad at this…”
Huffing and rolling his eyelights, Red Smoke takes over, angling his skull back, eyelights dimming to near black. “yer’ givin’ up the race because yer’ tired,” His voice is that deep, slurred tone softened by the barest amount into something almost conversational. “ion know what yer’ running, or why yer’ runnin it, but yer’ given’ in too soon, you humans got that, whadda they call it? “Persistence huntin’” or somethin’ like that, you humans don’t know how to quit. ion know you, ion really care ‘bout what yer’ goin’ through-” Plum face palms here, growls low and exasperated - “but i know that feelin’ of wantin’ ta’ throw in the towel early, snuffin’ the light, endin’ the race, allat. but it don’t fix nuthin’, don’t make nunna it easier ta’ deal wit’...”
Sniffling furiously, you wipe at your eyes and hiss, “How do you know that?” Lurching and leaning forward in an attempt to fight against deep purple magic as both monsters watch – Red’s eyelights have thinned in aggravation, and Plum jerks his face out of his palm in alarm. “This has nothing to do with you, got it? Nothing to do with either of you, so why do you even care?!”
And your voice rings.
Both monsters stare at you for a long, silent moment… and then Red Smoke huffs low, barks a deep and thunderous and bitter laugh as though you’ve said something hilarious.
In a flash of red aura, his other hand whips out of his pocket. Wicked claws glint into view, hooked and whittled into razor fine points, palms decorated by fingerless, burgundy red leather gloves; his phalanges are covered in little chips and cracks and bumps, almost the same way that one person would have calluses and scars covering their palms. “nuthin’ ta’ do wit’ us, huh?” He sneers, teeth parting and snapping shut — your eyes widen at the sudden influx of red smog, thicker and darker, pooling into a deep red haze around the terrace. “you comere’ trynna kill yerself on our rooftop, and it ain’t got nuthin’ ta do wit’ us? yer’ outta yer’ stars-damned mind, sweetheart.”
And then the purple magic releases.
For one long moment, the world tilts, your dress billowing, pillowing up around you, the voices below becoming shrill and hysterical and sharp and Red Smoke’s eye sockets go wide, Plum Smoke yells…
This fic is based off of another fic by @yeosin-n that I ADORE! (I wait oh-so-patiently with clenched teeth for the next update).
This is also like,,,,, STUPIDLY self indulgent, like, ALMOST self insert type shit.
The reader will use gender neutral/masculine pronouns and there will be references to their chest with words like "cleavage, boobs," and maybe "tits" like, once. The reader will also be referenced as being PoC with curly/coily hair bc we NEED more PoC readers gang.
Soulfounds were a fairly new phenomenon to humanity; specifically, they were as new to the “Overground” and humanity as monsters were, and, to many people, over twice as fascinating.
When monsterkind had finally Surfaced, they brought the concept of Soulmates and Souls and magic with them — watching creatures made of fire, stone, some even seeming to be vegetables and amalgamations of abstract concepts, humanity had been in awe and fear, people glued to their phones and T.V’s and radios.
All across the country, and even outside of it, humanity watched with bated breath as the massive mountain range began to spew smoke, the smoke such a bright, dense red and blue and purple, staining the sky in such hellish midnight hues that the more religious members of humanity dropped to their knees and began to pray. Streets flooded with doomsayers and fanatics, crosses held to chests and eyes rolling in manic fear — you vividly recalled your Christian coworker actually going into cardiac arrest, though he lived thankfully.
Everyone at work crowded around the break room television and whispered fervently amongst themselves, the local news station’s helicopter camera shaking as it focused on a gaping hole in the mountainside; a small child, no older than 12, maybe 13, had stepped out of the smoke, your whispers ceasing at once.
Silent confusion quickly turned to abject horror when they turned, reached into the smoke, and came out holding the hand/paw of a much, much larger goat-like beast. It was vaguely masculine, with broad shoulders made larger by armoured shoulder pauldrons, his head adorned with great, curved horns set amid wild blond curls. His snout turned skywards, revealing fang-like tusks and deep, cinnamon red eyes.
Watching that creature follow the seemingly fearless child into the light, watching his broad, toothy muzzle lift into the sunlight, his red eyes wide and awed and locked onto the deep blue sky…
While your coworkers expressed fear and disbelief and terror…
You couldn’t help but take note of the look of relief on his face, his face deeply set with stress lines and heavily lidded eyes. That was the sort of look one would have after escaping something utterly hellish.
Behind him, even more monsters flowed from the mountainside, though you all noticed that monsters seemed to have doubles and even triples of themselves, the large goat monster being a notable example as another approached the first from behind, this one sporting longer, sharper looking horns — thick raven hair and red eyes fringed with bright orange.
Needless to say, humanity could only watch and whisper and cry, convinced that the end was near.
A gurgle, deep and wet and attention grabbing, makes you jolt in place.
Blinking yourself back into the present, your eyes refocus.
In front of you, a strange paste writhes and bubbles and gurgles, popping wetly in a shallow dish.
The monster helping you — a real sweetheart aquatic monster named DeepC, someone you’d met through your work and who’d been more than happy to help you find your Soulmate — switches vocalizations, lets out a high pitched, burbling chitter, their mandibles drawing tight to their cheeks as their head fins flare and relax. When you hesitate, they reach over and rapidly nudge your elbow with a tentacle, motioning to the paste and the bloom held in your shock loose fingers.
“Go on!” They gurgle, main eyes wide in their version of an eager grin and you shakily hold out your bloom — the paste writhes again, the mixture stilling entirely when you set the bloom atop it and carefully push down with a fingertip so that the pretty, dimly pulsing flower is more submerged. DeepC ripples, the air abuzz with a steady stream of their magic. Without an Encounter or active Intent to force the latent magic into the shape of an attack, the magic seeks the closest conductor; you.
It sinks into your skin and works down your arm and into your hand and through the petal — jittering from the feeling, you watch the paste crackle white, the magic sinking in and creating a stronger conduit for your own Soul’s passive magic to start funnelling through. From where your bloom has been set, the strange substance begins to flush a deep purple-red shade, twitching and flexing and rippling in colourful waves
Honestly, you should be forgiven for nearly screaming when the paste swells — with a thick, almost viscous gurgling sound, it swallows your finger clear up to the base knuckle. Shuddering with childish disgust, you struggle not to throw it off and squeal, the paste starting to go from red-purple to a pasty white shade the longer it clings to your skin, rapidly becoming thinner and more runny.
A final burble, a loud, wet pop.
And then…
Before your very eyes, a skeleton? Rises from the paste – it looks a little off, its bones an off white, tinted soft blue and its ribs strangely fused together to create the illusion of a full, closed chest that could house organs. One of its little hands was clinging to your fingertip, round skull angled downwards as it swayed on oddly thick femurs and fused together tibia/fibulas. Its head tilts and lolls on a thick neck before the little thing finally tips its skull up. As it stood there, staring at you, a grinding/buzzing began emitting from it, somewhere in the vicinity of its weirdly enclosed chest. Behind you, DeepC gurgles, you feel the gentlest flutter of their tentacle against your spine, a small push that you follow without a second thought.
You blink in a daze, finding that you’ve leaned clear over the Soulfound as it blinks large, empty sockets back at you.
The grinding gets louder.
You study it with wide, focused eyes; beyond what you’ve already taken in, the little thing is strange but oddly handsome looking.
Like… Looking at an inanimate object, and thinking “That would be handsome if it were human”…
Ugh, that sounded weird, even to you…
When its head tilts, cranes a little further back to look up at you, you internally coo at how wide and round its little face was, the softness of its jaw and “cheeks” giving the illusion of the Soulfound being “fat.” Squinting ever so slightly, you take note of a strange, deep blue glow coming from each of its connective joints, pulsing in steady time with something — you wanna say it’s a pulse, a “heartbeat” but a lil glance towards its exposed ribcage shows nothing but that strangely fused bone.
“Weeeeeell,” DeepC starts, their gentle gurgle startling you both into jumping.
The abrupt movement makes you realize that the only thing covering the little skeleton was the weird, rapidly thinning paste and DeepC gurgles a laugh when you reel back and press a hand to your face in humiliation. Through their chirping giggles, the sea creature amalgamation — lowercase amalgamation, not the poor fused monsters that had experienced those scientists' desperate attempts at escaping their Undergrounds — chirps brightly, “Ohhh, my baaaaad! I didn’t meeeeean to scaaaaare you! Now!”
As they speak, they start to shuffle, your fingers parting to peek at them as they move. Bending double, they squint at your Soulfound, the little skeleton shuffling with an uncertain click of their teeth. Their facial fins flare forward, muzzle lowering to get a closer look at the small skeleton. Blinking several sets of eyes, your aquatic friend grins and ruffles their fins in a friendly wave. “Seems like yooooour Soulmate is a male!”
”Uh,” You flick your eyes down at the skeleton and its distinct lack of any sort of gender identifier, and then back to your fish chimera friend with your eyebrows raised. “How… exactly did you manage to find that out?”
“Hmm,” They burble in a low whale song, fins and tentacles and bioluminescent spots flickering in waves. “Weeeeeell, every Soul has its own siiiignature, you knooooow? And soooome signatures will teeeeeell you what theeeeey are, if they feeeeel like it! Thiiiis Soulfound’s Soul saaaaays that he is a maaaaale!”
You blink.
Okay, new monster information unlocked, you supposed.
DeepC gives an excitable wriggle at you, and then slithers backwards with a happy little chirp. “The reeeeest is up to yooooou now! Now you knooooow what your Soooooulmate looks like, and your Soulfound will feeeeel the urge to pull yooooou towards your Soulmate’s looocation once it haaaas a voooooice!”
Looking back down at the little skeleton, you smile softly, your heart already making space for the little thing.
Offering your hand to him again — and keeping your eyes firmly away from the rest of his bony body — you cast the deep sea chimera a soft look, your Soulfound squeezing at the tips of your fingers. “And uh… Soulmates aren’t always like… romantic right?”
DeepC tilts their head, seemingly hearing the unsaid, “What if it doesn’t work out?”
Their many eyes go soft, maw gentling and splitting into a small smile, their drawling whale-song voice snapping into an almost “normal” tone. “That’s right!” They chirp, flicking several head appendages in your direction in a soothing wave. “As you know, Soulmates don’t always equate to lovers! A Soulmate can be a friend, or even family — all a Soulmate is for anyone, human or monster, is a fellow Soul that resonates at a partnering frequency. A Soul that emits magic that soothes your Soul and helps you manage your own emotions!”
Your eyes flicker down to the Soulfound and widen upon seeing that his skull has angled fully up, big, dark sockets wide and his face ever so slightly slack.
“I’ll…” You fluster when the skeleton shifts again, his phalanges still squeezed around the tip of your finger. Taking a deeper breath, you smile down at him, speaking to DeepC but unable to tear your eyes away from how small his claws were. “I’ll consider meeting my Soulmate then… Maybe.”
Your Soulfound’s eye-sockets wrinkle, his face open and soft and oh you’d cry if your Soulmate was as gentle as him.
Gently shaking his grasp off — and biting back a soft coo when his toothy grin twitches, turning down at the corners — you smile brightly at your friend as you reach for a hand towel. Wetting it with warm water, you hand it to the Soulfound, who takes it with an unusual little shimmy of his shoulders. “Give me a moment and I’ll walk you out!”
DeepC gives a watery scoff, aggressively shooing you away when you try to escort them to the door. “Nooooonsense!” They trill brightly, their whale-song tone back in place as they slither back towards the front door. “Booond with your liiiiittle Soulfound! I will seeeeend yoooou some Soulfound stuuuuff lateeeeer today, so just taaaalk tooo him foooor a bit! He shoooould be able toooo taaaalk in a feeeew hooooours, sooooo just waait!”
You follow them, glancing back towards the kitchen just in time to see your Soulfound start to wipe himself down. Facing your friend’s back once again, you frown just a tad. “Wait, so he’s not a mute? I know a little bit of sign, but y’know…”
DeepC gurgles a snicker. “Eveeeeeen if he waaaas mute, monsters can proooooject Inteeeent, y’know?” You fluster and turn red, flushing even darker when, as if to tease, they push a wave of ‘Silly, Fond, Amused’ at you as they continue to speak. “He needs to absoooorb mooore of your laaaatent magic ooooover time! Oooonce he’s fully seeeettled, he’ll beeeee just like a yooooour Soulmate, juuuust small. Maaaagic, personality traaaaaits, and vooooice, juuuust not the meeeemory.”
You nod idly, DeepC stopping at the door and turning to look at you with a smile. “And remember, if it dooooesn’t work out in ooooone waaaaay, it can aaaalways work out in anoooother.”
Something in your chest relaxes, the anxious little nagging voice in your mind soothing away and DeepC’s many eyes glitter teasingly. “Thank you,” You whisper, pushing as much excited and joyful and grateful Intent as you could towards them.
Their tentacles wriggle, and reach out to push you back towards the kitchen — acknowledgement and shared joyful Intent is pushed back at you as they physically push you out of the way. “Yes, yes, as youooooou’ve said. Noooow go hang ooout with your Soulfound!”
Laughing at their friendly aggression, you practically skip back to the kitchen, poking your head around the corner.
There, sitting comfortably at the edge of the sink, your Soulfound turns to look at you over his shoulder — in his hands is that comically large dishrag, his ribs and spine now mostly free of the thick Founding paste. His sockets shift shape, narrowing horizontally and then widening as his teeth part and snap a few times. You blink slowly; the little clicks were strangely friendly sounding.
Some kind of greeting maybe?
Smiling sheepishly, following his lead and quietly clicking your teeth back; he lights up, your eyes just barely making out a strange flickering inside of his eyes as his bones tint a very soft shade of powder blue.
His teeth click again, all of his bones rattling as he stands up, wrapping the cloth around his hip-bones — you fluster at the smallest peek of the inside of his coccyx, and then mentally slap yourself because buddy, that was bone.
Coughing and shaking out your fluster, you shuffle from foot to foot. “Heh, uh, heeeey there lil guy…” He tilts his head at you, teeth twitching and stretching into a wider grin, his strange grinding sound filling the air once again. He seemed so happy to just be there, though you noted a sluggishness to his movements as he walked – swaggered – to the edge of the countertop to greet you with a smile. Smiling back at him, you find yourself quietly murmuring, “Geez, you’re cute.”
Your Soulfound jerks, shivers from head to toe and offers you a, somehow, shy looking smile.
Meeting him at the edge of the countertop, you partially crouch to bring yourself level with him. Big, dark sockets tip up to meet your own eyes, tilting as his skull tips. Voice soft, breathy in that sort of overwhelmed way that you had sometimes, you motion at the surface beneath his feet with your hand. “Stay here while I get you some clothes, okay?”
He huffs softly, a gentle scuff of air against your cheeks and lowers himself to sit while flashing you a little wink and shooing you away with his free hand.
Seems like he’d be just fine.
You duck into the next room with one last wave, darting up the stairs and opening the hallway closet to snatch up a decent sized, flip open chest. While you didn’t have official Soulfound clothes, you did have some old doll clothes from a hobby you’d briefly had in high school. Flicking through the many skirts and dresses – which you may offer at some point, just in case he liked flowy fabrics – you huff in annoyance at your younger self’s insistence on only making dresses, and shut the chest you were looking through.
Wandering over to your own room instead, you shoved open your closet instead, bent at the waist to search for your other doll chest.
It took you ages, but after searching for several minutes, you’d finally managed to find something that wasn’t a skirt or dress. They were a few different shorts, though only one of those shorts – a black pair with a pink waistband – looked like they were large enough to fit him. There were also a single pair of sweatpants, also black with white trim at the waistband and legs.
Eyeing the two and debating with yourself for a moment, you settle for grabbing both along with a baby blue shirt and a dull grey shirt and jog back down the stairs.
When you return, leaning forward at the hip and peeking into the kitchen, you find that your Soulfound seems to have dozed off a tad. His skull is slumped down on the fused slab that seems to be acting as his collarbones (your eyes land on the central dip, the gap looking almost like a little heart cut out), his eyes fully shut and teeth ever so slightly parted. When your foot scuffs against the linoleum, he jolts and snaps into a fully alerted stance, eye-sockets wide.
Startled by his abrupt flinch, you yelp, “Sorry!” and throw your hands up in surrender.
Unfortunately, your volume and sudden movements only seems to make him go even more tense, and scramble up to his feet, sockets wide and skull whipping left and right. “Oh, no, no, no hey shhh, oh stars I’m so sorry!” His head finally whips towards you, though when his head tilts, cocks in a specific little way as his dark eye-sockets go ovular, you realize the problem; Intent.
For monsters, Intent was almost like the usage of tones in some eastern languages. Certain amounts of positive Intent could completely change what would have been an otherwise neutral or even annoyed conversation, where negative Intent could sour even the most pleasant of small talk — you learned the hard way with a strange sea horse monster when you replied to his polite, non-flirty Intent filled, “Hey mamas.” with a neutral, but annoyed Intent filled, “Hi.”
Flushing deep red in embarrassment, you try again.
This time, as you offer the small skeleton clothes, you try to push through your Intent, projecting ‘Safe, Shame, Plea, Warm, Sorry’ through your Soul and towards the little Soulfound standing on the countertop; his eye-sockets shift again. His shoulders drop back down, and he seems to slump with relief, the edges of his sockets wrinkling near the corners as a little whistling sound escapes his clenched teeth. When he takes the offered clothes from you, he leans forward to bump his little nasal ridge to your fingertip, head tilting up to show-
“Oh my stars!” You gasp, leaning down with your fingertip nudging at his chin to keep your gazes locked. Where there had been a deep, empty abyss not even a few minutes earlier, now there were two little white pips. They wobble something fierce when you lean closer, rippling like lights off the surface of a still lake, a choked ‘churr-chik!’ sound escaping the little guy. “You do have eyes, they’re so cute!”
To add an additional, unintentional bit of adorableness, the Soulfound’s face flushes a rich navy blue colour, his little eye-sockets going wide as the little pips shiver harder.
And then his bones rattle, the little Soulfound dropping into a low squat with his clothes held close to his chest and you flush yourself, realizing abruptly that the little guy was still naked and you’ve leaned fully into his space in your bid to see his little glowing eyes better. “Sorry! Oh stars, oh my,” you fumble, wrenching yourself upwards and pulling your hand away from the small creature — you miss the way he sways in the absence of your touch, his toothy grin warping downwards for a beat. “I’m so, so, sorry, oh my goodness, lemme just-!”
Face burning, you scramble out of the kitchen with your hand over your eyes, only to scamper back and drop a quarter on the counter. “J-Just drop that once you’ve changed, okay? I’ll just… I’ll be nearby!”
And then you’re gone.
The Soulfound blinked, head tilting at the rapid retreat of his originator Soul.
His human was…
A navy flush bloomed once more, his chest thrumming with a somewhat unfamiliar grinding-rumbling sound as his fingers kneaded at the loose cotton shirt in between them.
They were so endearing, stars!
Stumbling his way from the thick, pasty material of the Founding had been disorienting, the abrupt rush of knowledge and information and sensation was all so sudden and violent and so, so overwhelming — to say he was floundering a bit was a bit of an understatement.
When his eye-sockets flicked open, blurry vision registering the human that leaned over him, he was struck dumb; they were a handsome creature, head wreathed in dense, curly hair and eyes framed by long feathery lashes and skin that was a soft brown shade dusted with little dark speckles that made him bite back a little grinding coo.
Clenching his hands, the Soulfound ground his teeth and jittered with abrupt affection.
His originator Soul was the cutest thing he’d ever fucking seen, and thanks to their memories, he even had receipts to back that up.
Shaking himself and shifting on his heels, the Soulfound began to throw on the clothes that had been pushed into his space. Though, when his phalanges brush across the shorts, he pauses and narrows his sockets, curling his claws to his chest after a brief flick.
Illness roils up in the pit of his belly, face twisting into a harsh grimace as he eases the shorts aside— they were a silky texture that slid strangely across his bones, a feeling akin to an uncomfortably viscous liquid that made him want to crawl clean off the countertop. Fingers twitching and curling uncomfortably, he forced himself to bite back any displeased sounds for the moment, though he wasn’t particularly gentle with how fully kicked them aside. The cotton shirt and sweatpants were a much, much better combination on his bones, his cheek nuzzling the fabric for a moment.
That was a much better feeling.
Throwing them both on, he let the shirt fall loosely around himself. It was large, hung loosely on his body as though made for something larger than himself, but comfortable.
Shifting his arms, kicking his legs and giving his outfit one more once over, the Soulfound grinned.
It felt right but…
He glanced at the shorts, his shoulders shifting with phantom sensation – he had the strangest feeling that he should have something over top of his shirt, but he paid it no mind. His eyes wandered down to his feet, tapping clawed phalanges to the smooth surface; no shoes, no socks, but eh. Beggars couldn’t be choosers he supposed.
Shrugging and shaking his shoulders once more to rid himself of the phantom sensation, he knocked the quarter off of the edge with the side of his foot.
It clattered and echoed, sharp and ringing, and the Soulfound perked up when his Originator turned back into the kitchen. Their face was soft and red with sheepish energy, his chest rumbling with a wordless coo when they looked him up and down in clear appraisal. His chest puffs up, hands held out to the sides in a wordless, ‘How do I look?’
He takes some pleasure in watching them flush further, their hands fluttering and wiggling anxiously before carefully coming out flat and resting near his feet. “You look good!” They chirp, the Soulfound carefully stepping onto their fingers and falling to rest on his knees in the middle of their palm, peering up at them with fondness. “Sorry I don’t have any shoes, or uh, socks or anything – are socks inappropriate for monsters? Sorry if that’s the case – but uhm.” They fluster, trip for a moment and hurriedly go on before he can start snickering. “My, uh, my friend is gonna send me some Soulfound clothing, the kind that I guess uh, changes to your preference? Magic and all. And, y’know, I actually made the clothes you're wearing, a long time ago, sure, but uh…”
As they ramble on and start walking towards the living room, the Soulfound finds himself leaning over to peer at their fingertips — sure as the stars, their fingertips were covered in little scars and pin-pricked marks.
Once again, the Soulfound bit down an aggressive coo of affection.
Oh, they were perfect.
Settled comfortably in the center of your palm, your Soulfound was surprisingly hefty — he had looked pretty round once he’d gotten the clothes on, but considering that he was just bones, you didn’t expect the surprising amount of weight to him. Feeling the way your hand had wobbled beneath his unexpected weight, he’d moved to sit down on the heel of your palm, his little bony legs stuck between your fingers and kicking idly as you moved, the skeletal mini leaning back with one of his hands resting on the base of your thumb.
Anxious about his precarious perch, you tuck your thumb behind his back with the pad of that finger pressed against the space between his shoulders; his spinal processes (thank you google, it gave you a brief rundown on the name of all those skeletal bits and bobs) press sharply into your fingertips, just dull enough to not sting when you push your finger against them.
You bite back an affectionate little coo when you feel them move, lifting and pressing ever harder into you skin as your Soulfound makes that deep, rumbly, bone on bone grinding sound once again.
Was that…
Was he purring?
That was too cute, oh stars!
You hope he’ll forgive you for the way your hand shakes beneath him, sudden and acute cuteness aggression making your fingers long to squeeze and pinch at him.
Carefully setting him down on the coffee table, you tilt your fingers until he can safely dismount — he does flash you a pouty little look from beneath his brow ridge, enlarging his little white eyelights and somehow warping his toothy grimace into a small frown as he hunches.
You nearly apologize until you feel the smallest, faintest little brush of, ‘Amused, Silly, Unbothered’ Intent.
Unsurprisingly, you feel wholly vindicated in your decision to just tip your hand and drop him on his coccyx.
His laughter — still soundless, more airy little puffs rather than true giggling — makes you hide your grin behind an annoyed little huff, wagging your finger down at the mischievous little skeleton. He pretends to bat his eyelashes at you, and the ridiculous, dramatic clink-clink of his eyelids clicking together makes you burst into another round of giggles. “You’re such a silly little thing.” You croon, watching him lift his arms in a shrug and close one eye as his grin tips into something smug — you have the sneaking suspicion he would be making some smart-assed remark if he could and you flick your finger as if to bop his skull. “Stop that you rascal.”
His teeth click snarkily at you, grin wide and teasing.
“Bratty little thing,” You huff, swiping the remote off of the couch and making your way to the couch. Your Soulfound tracks you all the while. “DeepC said that I should just wait for a few days and hang out with you, so uh…”
Flopping down on the main sofa — situated in front of both the coffee table and the T.V. — you pick up the remote and shake it. His eyes go bright, sockets wrinkling eagerly.
”How do some nature documentaries sound?”
His eyelights snap open, flickering sharply around the room — he doesn’t know where this level of wariness comes from, this strange urge to get up and search for some hidden threat, but he still feels the pull at the back of his mind.
The warmth beneath him rises and lowers, thrumming with a steady beat and a gentle puff of air brushes over the top of his skull, his chest buzzing in time with the steady pulse of a nearby Soul.
Blinking slowly, still lethargic but feeling strangely wired and anxious, the Soulfound tips his head back to investigate what exactly he fell asleep on.
The angle is awkward, and his eyes are unfocused from sleep, but after a few aggressive blinks, he’s finally able to see.
The slack and gentle face of a human — his human, his Originator Soul — greets him, their mouth parted and puffing air in a slow rhythm. When he wriggles around onto his chest, he realizes abruptly that he’s nestled down into their chest, one of their hands loosely cupped across his lower back and subconsciously dragging their nails across his spinal processes in sleepy loops.
A lovestruck smile twitches across his teeth, chin nuzzling down into the dip of their collarbones and a rumbling grinding-purr rumbling through his chest.
They were so…
‘Knock, knock, knock!’
They jolt beneath him, hand pressing him flat to their sternum as they snort themselves awake — he has to fight down the pleased little trill that fights its way up his throat at the way they partially curl around him, fingers snapping together in a defensive arch above him, curving so sharply that he finds his torso burrito’d within their grasp. He doesn’t really mind the gentle, firm squeeze, sleepily peering up at their chin as they yawn and grumble when the knocking comes again. Groaning loudly, they rock themselves upright, using their free hand to rub at their eye and calling in a sleepy drawl, “Coming!”
He doesn’t fight back the previously mentioned trill when they look down and flash him a sleepy smile, rattling his spinal processes against each other and grinning widely — somehow, he instinctively knows that his pupils have flexed into hearts when they gasp and coo affectionately, thumb gently brushing the corner of his eye-socket.
Your Soulfound shifts, nuzzles his round little face against your sternum and seems to settle fully into a light, snoring doze.
His skull tips into their affection and his eyes shut, body shuddering into relaxation.
The tender moment is broken when more knocking rings out, accompanied by a pitched, trilling whale-song call of what he assumes is his Originator’s name because they jolt and yell, “I’m on my way, damn!” while lurching fully upright.
When their fingers pry apart, slowly opening as they lean towards the coffee table, he can’t say that he’s overly proud of the way he immediately clings to their wrist. Little claws pinch into their skin, his whole body tucking down further into their grasp as his eyelights flicker up and enlarge. He blinks, bats his large sockets at them when they squint down at him and grins when their chest lifts in a sharp huff of amusement.
Grinning wide, they tap the fingertip of their other hand to his brow. “Clingy little thing.” They coo, shifting their hand from over his shoulders to beneath his feet and bottom — the Soulfound nuzzles his face to his new spot against their chest, collapsing down until he was comfortably curled in the center of their palm with his cheek pressed into their cleavage.
Jogging to the door, his Originator Soul pops the door open.
He blinks slowly at the amalgam of oceanic creatures that stares back at him — with what he could piece together from his Orginator’s memories, DeepC wasn’t particularly large by monster standards. Monsterkind tended to almost ridiculous heights, especially with those classified as “Boss” monsters, but with DeepC being a sub-boss monster, they were just barely taller than his Originator. What skin he could see was a deep shade of ocean green-blue with sharper acid green and purple accents across its skin. Several sets of eyes go wide, the strangely shaped pupils enlarging eagerly upon seeing him. The Soulfound flicks his eyes down towards a tentacle lifting into view and wiggling at him, welcoming Intent brushing across his senses.
Something in him flinches, forces his blush and openly fond attitude back and down, his teeth twisting into a flat grin. Folding his arms across his belly, he pushes back neutral Intent, his eye socket closing in a friendly wink — he watches DeepC twitch, fanged mouth shifting into a small frown.
He ignores them, ignores the conversation as a whole and tucks fully down with the intent to start dozing off.
DeepC trills lightly, wiggling their many limbs before chirping, “Soooooo, I see thaaaaat he’s maaaaade himself coooooomfortable?” Their face is pulled into a teasing grin, fangs gleaming — you flush and flap your free hand in embarrassment.
“Shooosh, shoooooosh!” You hiss, glancing down at your Soulfound. His eye sockets were still closed, though you couldn’t help but notice that, unlike earlier when he’d fallen asleep on you during the second documentary, his teeth were still clenched tight and his eye sockets were tense, holding tension in the ridge of his brows. Smoothing at the small, “crows feet” wrinkles near the edges of his eyes, you turn your gaze back to DeepC and smile. “He’s… He’s super sweet so far, honestly. Surprisingly cuddly.”
“Surprisingly?” They chirp, twisting to pull a bag off of their back with their main arms. Casting you a look out of the corner of one bright eye, they carefully continue. “Yooooou doooo remember that heeeee’s your Soulfound, riiiiight? He’s a paaaaart of yoooooour Soul, and knoooooows what you like and disliiiiiiike; your Soulfound liiiiiikes much of what yooooou like, whiiiiile your Soulmate may liiiiike a goooood portion of whaaaaat you like and viiiice versaaaa!”
You huff at their obvious teasing, but find yourself more focused on the massive, plastic bag that they pull out of their Inventory — you can see the white clothes folded within, so many of them that your eyebrows raise and you find a giggle catching in your throat. Using your free arm, you take the offered bag and eye the backpack that they’d taken off in the first place. “Okay, so why did you even bring that backpack if you were gonna give me all this out of your Inv?”
Flashing you a sassy look once again, DeepC also holds the normal backpack out to you. “The plaaaaaaastic bag has sooooome Soulfound cloooothes — theeeeeey’ll change texture aaaaaand colour deeeepending on what your Soulfound liiiiiiikes. This bag haaaaas Soulfound beeeeedding and washiiiiing materials,” Noticing your mild affront — you would bathe your Soulfound, you weren’t a bastard — DeepC rolls their eyes and playfully ruffles several tentacles. “Don’t looooook at me liiiiike that, human soooooaps don’t woooork on excess Soul maaaaterial.”
Squinting at their snark and tease, you look down at the Soulfound in one arm and the plastic bag in your other before looking at them with faux vacant eyes — once more, their tentacles give a strong ruffle, many eyes flashing in faux threat as their mouth snaps.
You giggle at the theatrics, stepping aside and watching in open fascination; blue tentacles rise from the ground, swiping through each back to infect them with blue magic and waving their actual limbs to hover the bag towards the couch. In the loose curl of your fingers, your Soulfound shifts and presses the side of his face to your shirt, the faintest feeling of his teeth parting and closing making you smile and nudge him with your thumb.
The bag thumps, rustles as it slumps to the floor and you focus back on DeepC, a small smile on your face. They chirp, trilling ‘Shock, Amusement, Happy’ when you lean your shoulder against their chest in a half hug, whispering against their neck, “Thank you, I mean it.”
Their strong jaw taps your skull, hooked teeth snapping harmlessly at the air a few times. “Of course!” DeepC’s voice has lost the whale-song croon, raspy and vibrating and just this side of too deep where your ear is pressed to their throat. “I couldn’t leave my favourite human unaware of who their Soulmate was!”
You huff at them, smiling fondly — against your chest, your Soulfound shifts and grinds his bones, your thumb pressing to the center of his spine to soothe him.
DeepC glances down, flickers each set of eyes, and then squints back at you, head tilting. “Haaaave you decided whaaaaat tooooo call him foooooor the time beeeeeeing?” They coo, whale-song tones back in their voice as many limbs sway and dance above their head. Their interest in your Soulfound was cute, and you decide to indulge them for a minute.
Humming, you glance down at him again, stepping away from the door; DeepC stays by the door, though they make no attempt to keep from projecting idle curiosity at you. “I didn’t really think about it.” You finally say, gently dropping the bags on the coffee table. Shifting him in your arm so that he was re-settled against your breastbone, you gently stroke your thumb across the top of his skull.
With a deep grinding sound, he shuffles in his “sleep” and pushes his skull against your sternum, flushing a soft powder blue.
Amused and endeared, a little grin twitches across your lips.
Peering back at DeepC, you start speaking, flushing pink and smiling softly and projecting such large quantities of ‘Fond, Sweet. Happy!’ that DeepC’s green lights begin to flash pink in response. “I think I might call him Powder for now.” Their many limbs flex, ripple in curiosity and you gently run your thumb across Powder’s soft blue face. “Like, the colour? Yknow, like powder blue! His face turns such a cute shade of blue when he’s like… flustered and stuff and…”
Your Soulfound, Powder, shifts and nuzzles his face to your sternum; deep within you chest, your Soul buzzes in response to his proximity, beckoning your eyes downwards.
Powder’s eyelights meet your eyes, his pupils once again doing that soft, “light on water” ripple as his skull’s soft, powdery blue hue deepens into a navy shade.
Pulling him up to your face, your lips brush his crown, a sharp zap of magic making your lips buzz pleasantly and you glance back at DeepC — all of their lights have fully flushed pink, limbs twisted forwards to wrap around their muzzle almost the same way a human would clasp their hands in front of their mouth when witnessing something endearing.
Flustering and turning a darker pink yourself, you shoo them with the back of your free hand.
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How would the UF, HT(if you right for both of them), and US Bro's deal with an s/o who's really touched starved anc tends to follow them around like a lost puppy/duckling?
UF, US, and HT Brothers' with a Touch Starved S/O
Underfell:
Edge:
Please be patient with him... Edge isn't exactly someone who's accustomed to physical touch being seen as a positive thing
In his underground, the most "affection" given out was typically some kind of fight or something similar as to avoid being seen as weak
But as soon as you're able to convince him that touch doesn't have to be violent, that it doesn't make him weak for accepting and giving it, he makes it his number one goal to give you every bit of affection you want
You want to hold hands? He'll do it. You want to cuddle with him? He'll scoop you up and carry you around with him as he goes about his day, because we all know he isn't the type to sit still for long
While he may be a tad bit reluctant to do anything in public (again, everything in the underground taught him it was a good way to make both of you seem like an easy target) he'll still try to slowly warm up to the idea of holding your hand while out on your daily errands
Red:
Just like every other monster who was raised in the underground, Red is reasonably wary about touch
He's easier to convince than his brother, and as soon as it clicks in his mind that it means he gets to be close to you, he's never going to leave you be
It isn't uncommon for him to hug you from behind while you're going about your day, whether it be chores or otherwise, and you can feel the way he sags against you
Most people wouldn't expect skeletons to weigh all that much, but oh boy is he heavy when he does that. It's usually enough to make you have to stop what you're doing to pry him off of you
Red will usually snag you by the wrist or something to pull you onto the couch while he's lazing about for cuddles - even if he says he's doing it for you more than for him
Out of all of the boys on this list, he's the most smug when it comes to PDA and will show you off to anyone he can
Underswap
Blue:
This poor skeleton never, and I mean never, sits down for more than a few minutes at a time during the day, so good luck convincing him to stay for cuddles
That said, he is all for giving you the affection you're clearly starved for. It doesn't matter if he's busy or if you're both out and about doing things together
He's the type to give you little skeleton kisses all throughout the day, any time and any place
As for you following him around like a lost puppy, Blue would probably think it's the most endearing thing in the world
Even if he's doing things for the royal guard after the monsters have been freed from the underground, he'll always find a way to involve you somehow so you don't feel so awkward just kinda... standing about
After all, the more time he gets to spend with you, the better
Stretch:
Oh boy are you in for a ride, because he's in the exact same boat
While he might be a little too lazy to actually follow you around everywhere you go, he's one of the most affectionate skeles yet
He likes to drag you to the most random places for the two of you to cuddle and nap at, it doesn't matter where
More often than not, he'll be touching you in some way - whether it be by holding hands, linking arms, or even one of his hands on your knee while the two of you sit together
Stretch can and will throw himself on top of you to cuddle if he ever sees you laying down on the couch or bed on the rare chance that he isn't there first
Horrortale
Skull:
Don't get me wrong, Skull is another one of the skeles who would be thrilled to give you all of the affection you could ever wish for and more
It's just that he's afraid of hurting you in some way. He's always seen humans as fragile, no matter how true or not that might be, and ever since his head was messed up, he has a hard time gauging just how much strength he's using
It's because of that that he'd most likely have you be the one to initiate cuddling or affection. He'll say that he doesn't care when or why, and if he isn't up to it at any time, he'll let you know
It takes him a long while to trust himself to ever initiate anything without the fear of accidentally breaking you, but when he does, you'd better bet he's hooked for life
As for you following him around while he goes about his day, he might be a little bit worried that something he's doing is making you anxious, and that will make him anxious in turn
He'll more than likely turn around to look at you every few minutes to check in and make sure that everything is okay
Sweets:
Like most of other monsters who managed to survive the famine, Sweets's body is kind of twisted. He knows that he tends to tower over basically every human he's met, he knows that his bones are just a little bit more pointy than they once used to be, and he's afraid of hurting you just like Skull is
Of course, that doesn't change the fact that he would do anything and everything to keep you happy
He'll get used to just... scooping you up and carrying you around with him. It doesn't matter if he's in the middle of doing something like gardening or cooking, though it isn't uncommon for him to set you down on the counter or something similar so he can have both of his hands free
Even if he has a hard time sitting still or relaxing, it's easy to calm both of you down when he lets you sit in his lap while he plays with your hair/gives you a scalp massage
He might even joke about getting a wig, saying that he's always wanted hair
Can you please do Papyrus and Sans (and their underfell and under swap versions) reacting to an so who likes to bite as a sign of affection?
I love the thought of them just trying to go about their day and then chomp
UT, UF, and US skeles with an S/O who bites to show affection
Undertale:
Sans:
PLEASE warn him before you do this the first time because he will 100% freeze up if he isn't prepared for it
After he knows why you're doing it though, Sans can't stop himself from laughing at it
He appreciates it that you get so overwhelmed by your affection for him that you can't show it in any way but biting him, but he's going to teasingly offer other, less startling ways to express it
Kisses? He can do those. Picking him up and spinning him around? He can handle that. Biting him? Now he might playfully scold you for catching you off guard
Once he's used to it a little more, he learns to pick up the signs of an incoming bite - and he'll absolutely try to make jokes and puns to throw you off
Papyrus:
After his initial shock passes, it very quickly becomes a competition to see who can out-do each other with over the top affection
Papyrus grabs your face and rubs his all over it in the best approximation of a kiss he can manage, all while laughing the entire time
He might offhandedly compare you to the royal guard dogs who have tried to take off with his bone attacks, but anyone can see the playfulness in his eyesockets
It startles him every single time that you bite him out of the blue, but every single time it ends in him gushing about how much he loves you too
Underfell:
Red:
Oh boy have you opened up a whole can of worms by doing this
Red will very quickly see it as a challenge to see who can bite harder, and believe me when I say that he will win that little battle
It gives him a good laugh every single time you chomp down on him out of the blue, and no matter when or where it is, he makes sure to return the favor with equal eagerness
His teeth are sharper than most, which usually ends in some minor accidents, but he will always always make sure to clean up any blood and make it up to you in some way or another
The go to is usually a trip to Grillby's with the promise that you'll be allowed to get everything you could possible want
However, neither of you are surprised in the slightest when he takes a good few bites of everything you get, saying that he has to make sure it's up to his standards
Edge:
The first time you do this to him, it startles him so badly that he lets out the most undignified shriek he's ever made in his life
He'll scold you while his cheekbones are practically glowing red with that flush of magic you adore
While he doesn't scream after that first time, it flusters him so so much every time you bite him
Despite how much he claims to hate it, you never see him actually try to stop you, but you do see the way he lowers himself down to your level to make it easier for you to reach whenever he picks up on the signs that you're about to bite
It isn't uncommon for him to very quickly speed off to clean or train after - his usual way to calm down after something manages to fluster him
Underswap:
Blue:
He immediately freezes up every time it happens, only to break out in a fit of muffled laughter
"IS THIS WHAT PEOPLE MEAN WHEN THEY TALK ABOUT CUTENESS AGGRESSION? I KNOW YOU LIKE ME, BUT I DIDN'T KNOW YOU THOUGHT I WAS THAT CUTE!"
No matter how many times you do it, he somehow always knows exactly when you're planing to sneak up on him to chomp and to show him how much you love him
Blue might tease you a little bit by saying that he's not a chewtoy, and might even offer to buy you those little rubber necklaces for you chew on if you really feel need to
Stretch:
He's another one of the skeletons who audibly yelps every time you chomp down on him, but he finds it endearing
You feel so much affection for him that you can't think of any other way to show it but to bite him? Oh, he thinks it's the most adorable thing in the world
If he has the chance, he likes to flop himself on top of you like a very bony weighted blanket, saying that you're in time out
He might carefully bite back to get revenge, but it's never enough to really do anything but tickle an make you laugh
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Introduce you guys my other and new Oc sans and it was a suprise for yall too!!
!!!La Muerte Sans/The Death Sans!!!
Heyyy guys i wanna surpise yall with my new Oc Sans and this one take me to long to make him maybe 10 or 20 days idk i lost the count 😅 so yeah and this one i amke him for a reason because if you or you ahd every watch The book of life if you did or not i well told you i make him because "La catrina or La Muerte in the movie she soo beautiful and she a awesome and amazing woman and i love her soo much i like her personallity and she really pretty so i have a idea and i make a version of her like Sans but Male version sans so yeah and if you didn't watch the movie i recommend watch it is really good and now i finally finish this art if i wanna know what you guys think of this Art i make hope you like it or love it and i also well post more information oh him too and my other Sans Oc's so the evrything guys thanks for see my post anf follow me guys thanks everyone!!! :D ❤❤🧡🧡💛💛💚💚💙💙💜💜🤍🤍🖤🖤🤎🤎💖💖💗💗💓💓💞💞💕💕❣❣💘💘💝💝
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