Work Text:
Everybody knew about the red string. The one with the soulmates where two people are supposedly destined to meet and fall in love in every lifetime. Red, as in, scarlet red. The intangible strings are widely known throughout years of evolution. As time went on, however, people who see the strings dwindle down, one-by-one they believed that the reason for this change was because the connection between two people ceased to exist. Or rather, the strings weren’t meant to last after all.
Soon, the story of the strings became a myth. A legend. Some fable a poor fool created to name the mysterious attraction they felt towards a stranger.
Along with the strings died history. A story behind each coloured thread wrapped around one’s finger. Red strings, as everyone knows, are meant for soulmates. Two souls who are meant to love one another in every lifetime they meet. But what about the other colours?
While people cease to have the ability to see the strings, BadBoyHalo did not. See, as a creature aware of reincarnation, BadBoyHalo has observed his fair share of coloured strings. Contrary to popular belief, strings don’t necessarily appear red all the time, nor does it instantly appear in the first place. Bad found this when he first met Foolish a hundred centuries ago.
The god of totems, or rather, a being like him, most certainly hadn’t been anticipating the appearance of a white string wrapped around his middle finger. Bad, needing to calm the man, shared his knowledge of every string he remembers. White as snow was its appearance: purity, innocence; a sign of a new bond. Soon, however, the seamless white does not stay. Instead, it slowly morphs into a hue with meaning behind it.
This, he came to knowledge upon seeing the thread around his pinky finger turn yellow, two years after getting to know Skeppy. Golden, was what it looked like. Similar to the colour of gold which meant priceless. Close. He and his best friend, Skeppy.
Bad was delighted of course. How can he not? A forever best friend? That’s something someone always craves about! When he first told Skeppy about this, the diamond couldn’t be any happier. Throughout that lifetime they were comforted by the fact that their friendship would stay, as long as they could ever wish for. It was great, they had fun. BadBoyHalo thought that that was it. They were happy.
Unfortunately, Skeppy wasn’t one of the creatures to be blessed with the ability to see. Nor the ability to remember his past lifetimes… he wasn’t like Bad. He wasn’t a demon who grew up in Edom nor was he a son of god/goddess or a god himself. Skeppy was merely a rare being. A creature with diamonds embedded in his skin along with the ability to sense when a few gemstones were nearby. Compared to the others, Skeppy was mundane.
And so, after they met up once again in their next lifetime… BadBoyHalo understood that only he would know that they were the best of friends at all times. Always, he would have to approach Skeppy. Always would he pave his way to be called his best friend all over again. Always did Bad have to try just to stay in touch with his best friend.
The situation was precarious. It was tedious. Sometimes they get to meet early on, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes, Bad would tell Skeppy all about the invincible string wrapped around their pinky fingers; sometimes he simply doesn’t. What’s the use? After all, it’s all the same. His best friend won’t really remember him, sure, he’d say he’s familiar, but that’s it.
The knowledge that despite the string connecting them through multiple lifetimes, Bad may as well remain forgettable in his best friend’s eyes.
BadBoyHalo didn’t let it get to him, he stayed persistent. Then, before he knew it, another thread made its whimsy appearance. Confused at first, thinking that a person can only have one string, BadBoyHalo tilted his head and tried to pick on the string wrapped around his ring finger. It was white. Again.
It could be a glitch in the matrix, he humoured as he follows the thin thread around. It looked like it could glow, or snap of how thin it appeared to be. BadBoyHalo bit the inside of his cheek, head down as he continues to follow the dirt path it leads to. He follows until—
Quackity looked down at him from the podium. On the stage, right next to Jschlatt where he was making his candidacy known. His pupilless eyes widen as he stared at the duck-hybrid’s face, a realisation dawning over his head when multiple faces; resemblances made themselves known over Quackity’s face. Starting from a woman in a village to a masquerade ball that turned into a bloodbath. Quackity was always there.
Now, not only does he have two strings but the second string more likely won’t appear yellow, he muses. Running their past lives in his head, Bad couldn’t comprehend what kind of bond he shared with the hybrid. Another trouble was that Quackity, just like Skeppy, doesn’t remember their past lives at all. Bad’s thrilled smile dimmed at the thought.
Maybe it’s for the best. Another person to remind seemed like a tedious task. That was before the white string on his finger morphed into maroon.
BadBoyHalo searched dungeons upon dungeons, desperate to seek the definition behind the colour. It eats at him, but at the same time, he was afraid to get closer to the duck-hybrid. He was afraid of the bond they were stuck to have for eternity. What does string maroon mean? Throughout his search, Bad came upon colours blue, orange, and pink. However, maroon remained a mystery. The one colour his string could have and it chose a colour rare enough that the ancient books barely held records of it anymore.
“You see it too?”
BadBoyHalo looked up, the bags under his eyes prominent under the lamp light he kept on after finishing another dead-end book. Quackity, leaning against the side of the door with arms crossed, entered. The man looked nervous, he couldn’t match Bad’s surprised eyes.
“And you… could too?” How was that possible?
Quackity shrugged as if hearing the unasked question. Taking something out from the pocket of his jacket, the hybrid gently placed it down on the desk. Bad, dumbfounded, could only stare at what seems to be a rugged journal.
“I have. For a while, I thought that you couldn’t see the string, and gods I hoped you couldn’t.” Quackity laughed bitterly, eyes closing as he did before opening once again to meet with the ceiling. “Do you know what the colour maroon entails?”
Silent, Bad refused to answer because he had none. Quackity didn’t expect one anyway.
“It’s too dark to be red,” Quackity’s eyes swiftly met Bad’s then back up the ceiling, “yet it’s closer to that colour compared to anything else.”
At that exact moment, Bad came to understand that the colours of each string do not necessarily have a linear explanation. Maroon, the closest to red yet too dark to be one. It held a singular explanation: passion. For the next events and lifetimes that occurred, Bad and Quackity danced in fire and tandem. They weren’t always friends in each life; sometimes they fight and become enemies, a supporter of each completely different team. Then, another life would have them close, closer than anyone thought they would be. Almost inseparable as Bad to Skeppy was.
Whatever roles they play they always meet with passion. It left Bad mystified, frustrated, yet oddly satisfied. At the end of it all, he was glad to have someone who remembers. Even though he sometimes does not. After all, Quackity, same as Skeppy, was just another normal hybrid.
Back unto Foolish, however. BadBoyHalo finally had someone who can remember. Everything, and always. The god of totems and the demon of souls; a yin and yang. Somehow, some way, none of them were really surprised when their string morphed into brown, the darkest colour to have. They are destined to meet and become two equal opposites that repel yet still mainly attract. Their lives were filled with disagreements, annoyance, and a lot of contradictions. Although, despite it all, the two of them viewed fondly of each other, no matter how much they irritate one another. How can you not when the person may as well be a consistent presence in your life?
It was good. Bad was content with the three strings on his finger. A yellow, maroon, and brown… Bad looks up at the eggs, Dapper and Richarlyson, where they play up against the Forever by the field. He smiled, comforted at the fact that no matter how one could try, the strings remained invincible and intangible to most people. When one tries to touch it their fingers would simply pass through. Forever and the eggs was safe from tripping all over the string the blond has wrapped around his pointed finger.
Forever turns and jumps to keep the ball away from the net, successfully blocking it from ending their game early. The string sways along with him. It jumps and moves at the beat he settles. Forever laughs at the annoyance Dapper and Richarlyson displayed over the act.
“Ha ha! You idiots! Richas, Felps taught you better than that!” Forever taunted his son, always happy to tease the kids. It’s what makes him the ‘cool’ dad after all. In Bad’s opinion, Forever didn’t need to act like he can keep up with the kids. His sense of emotional intellect, protectiveness, and care were already keys to being one of the best dads known in the SMP.
When he first met Forever, Bad didn’t think twice about him. The man with an adorably pathetic crush on Philza. It was after Richarlyson made him speak something in Portuguese did BadBoyHalo feel a new string wrap around his finger. His pointed finger this time. The man with blond hair didn’t seem to notice, continuing on with his day as usual.
If Bad were to be honest, he was glad Forever couldn’t see the strings. The obligation of what your bond may be based on the colour of your string would most certainly leave you in overdrive, and BadBoyHalo knows that he doesn’t want Forever to change the way he acts right now. He was perfect in his own ridiculously loud, sometimes jealous yet silly ways. He was fine.
Bad chuckles then shakes his head, standing up as he goes to prepare them some snacks, unaware of the slow morph of his string, turning red against the setting sun.