#mate life

[cielcreations]

Mate Life - Ch. 1

AN: Probably won’t post too much of this story on Tumblr because it’s going to have a lot of 18+ content, so you can either read it on my Patreon or AO3.

Also, loooooots of shipping. So ye.

Grian and Zed looked at their communicators, smiling. The counter ended and, in green text, "OMEGA" was displayed on both of their screens. They then hissed and held their necks.

"Shoot, forgot to mention that." Grian removed his hand from his neck, rubbing it a bit. Zed saw a mark on the dirty blonde's neck, an omega mark, "So, to help identify what everyone else is, we get marks on us."

"Ah, okay!" Zed smiled, "So, we got three extra hearts, right? Thank goodness, I think that actually helps ease my nerves a bit." He then began to type away on his communicator, "I wonder what Impy and Tango are! Maybe we can be Team ZIT!"

Grian also began messaging on his communicator. He was hoping for Mumbo and Scar, or at least one of them. He sent them both a message.

GoodTimesWithScar whispers to you: I'm an Alpha! I'm a little nervous though, hopefully I don't die first! You whisper to GoodTimesWithScar: That's Timmy's job. I'm an Omega. Want to be a team? Hoping to get Mumbo too, so long as he's a Beta. GoodTimesWithScar whispers to you: Do you want Mumbo as your Alpha? If he is one. You whisper to GoodTimesWithScar: No. I want you. I want to make up for Double Life and we never got to hang out in Limited Life. You don't have to if you don't want to, I understand. I just really miss you. GoodTimesWithScar whispers to you: I really miss you too. I mean, i know we hang out in HC, but these games could go on for months and I don't want to go through a repeat of Limited Life. So, guess I was a bit worried. Mates? You whisper to GoodTimesWithScar: Mates. :) You whisper to GoodTimesWithScar: Oh, Mumbo responded, brb!

Grian heard Zed huff, "Dangit!"

"They already found someone?" He asked as he moved to Mumbo's messages.

"Well, yes and no. Tango is an Omega too and said he promised to team with Solidarity if things aligned. So, it's gonna just be ZI instead of ZIT." Zedaph joked.

Grian chuckled.

MumboJumbo whispers to you:  I'm a Beta, you?

Grian cheered.

***

Solidarity spawned beside Joel, which the two immediately joked it was fate. The two began to collect materials as they talked.

"So, you wanna team if possible?" Joel asked.

"I kinda want to team with Tango. And I expect you want to team with Lizzie?" Solidarity hummed.

"Yeah... But who knows! If you're an Omega, me an Alpha, and Tango or Liz are Betas, we could team!"

Solidarity nodded before their communicators beeped. They checked their communicators as it counted down from five. Once it hit zero, Solidarity saw "ALPHA" in red. Both then hissed as their necks burned.

"Grian must've forgotten to mention that." Solidarity groaned before hr chuckled, "Well, I'm an Alpha, you?"

Joel stared at him, "...HOW ARE YOU AN ALPHA AND I'M AN OMEGA?!"

Solidarity burst out into laughter, falling to the ground. Joel began texting Lizzie, huffing and muttering "this is insane, this is bull, how are you an Alpha?!"

"Lizzie's an Alpha too! Bro, hooooooow?!"

"Guess I'm just better than you!" He teased before he smiled, "Ah! Tango is an Omega! Guess we can't be a team." He then smiled, "Want to have a truce?"

"For now, yeah, sure." Joel teased, "I'm gonna go find Lizzie, see ya later!"

Solidarity waved and began walking the opposite way, Tango sending him cords. He then got a beep, a message appearing on his screen.

Dangthatsalongname    whispers to you: I'm a Beta. You? You whisper to Smajor1995: Alpha. Smajor  whispers to you: Want to team? You whisper to Smajor1995: Tango is gonna be my Omega. Still want to be my Beta?

It took another minute or two before Scott responded.

Smajor1995 whispers to you: Sure.

 Far away, Scott whispered to himself, "Oh my god, Dary, you can't just ask if I want to be yours..."

***

(Suggestive Content Ahead!)

Martyn wasn't a big fan about team games. Well, team games in the sense you have to have a team. Double Life was awful, him and Cleo just didn't work out. And even though this time he could pick his team, it still just wasn't something he was interested.

Not to mention he was an Omega.

He sighed and walked around, trying to find a cave. He managed to get some wook, his tools were stone, a couple of iron ingots was turned into a helmet and axe. Martyn continued walking around, trying to find a cave or even other people, just for a bit of socialization.

"Martyn!"

The blonde turned and smiled, seeing a familiar wolf hybrid running over. He was nearly tackled by the hug, laughing a bit, "Hey Ren! Missed you last game!"

Ren's tail wagged happily as he pulled back, "Missed you too! Oh, are you an Omega? I'm an Alpha! Wanna team? It would be great to catch up!"

Martyn hesitated before he smiled and nodded. He teamed up with Ren once, he wouldn't mind doing it again!

"Sure, why not?"

Ren smiled brightly before leaning down, licking his neck.

"Ewwww!" Martyn pushed him back, "Hey, hey, what're you-"

"What's wrong? I have to bite your mark to claim you as mine." Ren said matter of factly, "Did you not read the message that came with your assigned role?"

Martyn blinked before rechecking the the chat.

You are... an OMEGA

Make sure to find a Beta and an Alpha to team up with. An Alpha will need to bite a Beta and an Omega's neck to complete the pack. Omegas and Betas biting their Alphas is optional.

"Crap. No, I didn't read that." Martyn said before lowering his hands, "Okay, just try to be gentle?"

Ren nodded. He leaned forward and licked Martyn's neck again. Martyn cringed, but relaxed. The brunette gently nibbled at his neck to prepare the blonde before opening his mouth. He bit Martyn's neck, right where his omega mark was.

Martyn's eyes widened. It didn't hurt, it felt good. Really good. The blonde's knees buckled as he leaned into Ren, moaning. He felt Ren's teeth sink more into his skin and he moaned more, holding onto the brunette's arm to keep him on his feet.

Ren removed his teeth and looked at Martyn, the blonde panting and holding him. He smiled brightly at the brunette.

"Can you, like, undo the mark and redo it...? That felt amazing."

Ren blushed before he smiled, "I-I'm glad."

Martyn then fell against his chest, knees giving out, "S-Sorry, c-can you just...?"

"Carry you? Happily."

"Ren?"

The two turned and saw a Beta standing there, looking at them.

Ren's tail began to wag at the dog hybrid, "Big B!"

(End of Suggestive Content!)

***

Solidarity whispers to you: Sorry man, I'm teaming up with Tango and Scott. Maybe you can team with Gem or Pearl? You whisper to Solidarity: Can't. Asked Gem, she's also a Beta and Pearl said she's teaming with Gem if possible. Solidarity whispers to you: Sorry man :/ You whisper to Solidarity:  No worries, it's cool. Figured you would team with Tango, just wish I could've gotten to you before Scott. Not your fault, Scott's just a cheater. Solidarity whispers to you: Yup, he will make Flower Husbands happen no matter what.

Pixlriffs chuckled at the joke before he sighed a bit. He's never played a Life Series game, he was hoping he could team with some familiar faces. Granted, he knew of everyone, but he was more comfortable with people he has played with on other servers, like Joel, Solidarity, or Lizzie!

Ah well. Pix thought to himself, Teaming with new people isn't the end of the world. He began to collect materials, spending a lot of time in the caves. He had gotten full iron armor, iron tools, and a diamond pickaxe for later. He then began walking around, looking for a place to build his base.

"Huh- oh, hey!"

Pix turned around and smiled, "Hey! Skizz and Vintage, right?"

The cow hybrid chuckled, "Vintage Beef, yes, but I prefer to go by Beef."

"You're Pixlriffs, right?" The man in a tuxedo with sleeves ripped off, Skizz, asked, "Nice to meet you more properly! Didn't get to talk to you much at the beginning! This yours and Beef's first time, so it'll be a bit interesting!"

Beef nodded, "What are you, by the way? I'm an Alpha, Skizz is an Omega."

"Beta." Pix replied.

"Oh, nice! Wanna team?!" Skizz exclaimed, "We can be the Big Tits Gang!"

"W-WHAT?!" "Hahahaha!" Beef blushed, Pix trying not to fall to his knees.

"SKIZZ!" Beef yelled.

"What?! You can't even keep the top button of your shirt button, your tits are so huge! And look at how tight Pix's shirt is!" Skizz huffed, "And I'm not a narcissist or anything, but I got some pretty big tits myself! So, Big Tits Gang! BTG!"

Pix continued to laugh as Beef just blushed, groaning, "Oh my god, Skizz..." The cow hybrid then looked at the brunette, "Listen, you can just ignore him."

"No, no, it's fine! I don't mind." He then showed off his yellow Beta mark, "Wanna be a trio?"

Beef smiled and nodded.

***

"IMPPPPPPPY!" The demon turned around and quickly caught the blonde ram hybrid with a gasp, "IMPY! HAHA, I FOUND YOU!"

Impulse chuckled, holding Zedaph up, "Hi Zed. I can't believe you found me so fast!"

"Tango is an Omegaaaaa! And Soli stole hiiiiim!" Zed huffed, "Can you believe that?!"

"They did get close in Double Life and during Limited Life, they would sneak off to have some fun." Impulse chuckled, "It's why we added Soli to our relationship, remember?"

"I knooooow, but I still wanted Tango, or even Soli so we can be a trio! Either Team ZIT or... ZIS?"

"What about Team ITS?" Impulse teased.

"Noooooo!" Zed huffed, "You promised we'd be together this game if possible!"

"I know, I know, I'm teasing."

"Impulse!" The two turned and saw Bdubs running over, smiling as he waved his hand, "Oh, and Zed too! Hey guys!"

"Nope! Six feet apart!" Zed joked, "Only I can be on Impulse at this time!"

"Wha- ZED!"

"Be nice, Zed." Impulse playfully scolded, kissing his cheek before looking at Bdubs, "Hey B, how you doing?"

"Ug, everyone I've ran into is already teamed or planning to make a team!" Bdubs huffed, "I tried to get Etho, but Lizzie and Joel got to him first! Then I ran into Scar, but he had Mumbo claimed and they were going off to find Grian, which makes sense, those three will be together no matter what, if possible. Then I found Cleo and you know what she said?! She was teaming up with Gem and Pearl! Something about wanting lesbians to win? Which, honestly, respect, I think the lesbians winning would be great. But Cleo and Pearl?! In a Life Series game?! Shit is gonna go down."

"Language." Impulse scolded.

"Zed, you haven't seen it, but Pearl is like coocoo for Coco Puffs crazy in Life Series games, and Cleo is... well, Cleo."

"So expect chaos?" Zed chuckled.

"Major chaos."

"Niiiice. Anyways, so, like, wanna be our Beta?" Zed pointed to the other's neck, "I can tell you're a Beta and Impy and I are already planning to team up!"

"It would be nice to team up again." Impulse suggested.

Bdubs smiled and nodded, "Yeah, sure!"

***

"Ha! There she is!"

Gem turned around and smiled, running over, "Cleo! Pearl! You guys were quick!"

"You gave us cords and agreed to team, we booked it." Pearl chuckled.

Gem smiled, "Well, I've been just making a base and a farm, so hopefully you guys have everything you need!" She chuckled.

Cleo nodded, smiling, "So, you're a Beta right?"

"Yep!"

"Perfect!" Cleo hummed, "Pearl is an Omega and I'm an Alpha."

"Team Lesbians for the win!" Pearl exclaimed as Gem laughed.

"I-Is that our team name?" She laughed.

"Seems like it. Bdubs called us that."

"Don't lie, Cleo. You said we were going to form Team Lesbians first!"

"Shut up, Pearl!" Cleo teased, pushing the brunette, all laughing.

***

Joel groaned, pushing another branch of leaves out of his way. He was trying to find Lizzie, but she wasn't responding to his messages. He tried contacting a few others, but everyone had already gotten their trio set up.

"LIZZZZZZZZZZIE!" Joel screamed into the woods, ducking under another branch, "Geez, where in the bloody-" He gasped as he stopped, nearly falling down into a ravine, "W-Woah!"

"Are you going to pull a Solidarity?"

Joel turned around and yelled, stepping back. However, before he could fall back, an arm grabbed him and pulled him back, away from the ravine. He stared at the taller man, blushing a bit.

"Etho!" Joel exclaimed as the platinum blonde pulled him away from the ravine, "W-What're you doing?"

"You trying to keep your Bad Boy persona?"

"Shut up." Joel blushed and pushed him away, "I'm looking for Lizzie! You seen her?"

"Yeah, she's the one who told me to find you."

"What, why?!"

"Have you checked chat?"

Joel blinked and looked at his communicator, seeing multiple chat displays.

[ Alpha Rendog has claimed Omega InTheLittleWood ]

[ Alpha Rendog has claimed Beta Bigbst4tz2 ]

[ Alpha Solidarity has claimed Omega TangoTek ]

[ Alpha impulseSV has claimed Omega Zedaph ]

[ Alpha impulseSV has claimed Beta BdoubleO100 ]

[ Alpha ZombieCleo has claimed Beta GeminiTay ]

So on and so forth, everyone having gotten a trio. The very last message read:

[ Alpha LDShadowLady has claimed Beta EthosLab ]

"So, I'm the last person unclaimed." Joel hummed.

"Pretty much. Come on, this way." Etho grabbed his wrist, beginning to lead the way.

Joel huffed, "Why did Lizzie claim you? Doesn't she realize we were enemies last season?!"

"We were also soulmates two seasons ago-"

"Shut up!" Joel blushed, looking away, "Last season was more important!"

Etho just laughed, "Let's see how long you can keep your brat behavior up."

Joel just huffed as they continued making their way to Lizzie. Once they arrived to their little base, Lizzie smiled and waved happily at them. Joel smiled and ran over to her.

"Bout time! I messaged you!" 

"I was building!" Lizzie giggled, "Sorry! Besides, Etho found me first! He's gonna be our Beta, in case you couldn't tell!"

"Yeah, you hired an enemy!"

"Oh, so that's how he's been?" Lizzie looked at Etho, the platinum blonde shrugging and chuckling as he went inside their base. She then looked at Joel, "Be nice to him."

"Nuh uh, he kill me last season! And he killed my fellow Bad Boys!"

"You are such a brat, you know that?" Lizzie teased.

Joel chuckled and smiled, leaning down as they shared a kiss, "You love it though."

Lizzie smiled and nodded.

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

So earlier in art class today, someone drew a characters hands in their pockets and mentioned that hands are really like the ultimate end boss of art, and most of us wholeheartedly agreed. So then, our teacher went ahead and free handed like a handful of hands on the board, earning a woah from a couple of students. So the one from earlier mentioned how it barely took the teacher ten seconds to do what I can’t do in three hours. And you know what he responded?

“It didn’t take me ten seconds, it took me forty years.”

And you know, that stuck with me somehow. Because yeah. Drawing a hand didn’t take him fourth years. But learning and practicing to draw a hand in ten seconds did. And I think there’s something to learn there but it’s so warm and my brain is fried so I can’t formulate the actual morale of the lesson.

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

Reading fetish erotica with absolutely pristine and morally upright consent and neat and tidy safer sex practices is like watching a Fast and Furious movie where they stop at every stop sign and signal for every lane change and always obey the speed limit.

[luxaofhesperides]

Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless. 

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 

He won’t let anyone take it from him. 

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 

Bruce reaches a hand out. 

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 

The orb in his hand moves. 

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark. 

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 

If anyone can, it’s Batman. 

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

[beescake]

ik ur the sollux and karkat blog but would you ever draws a nepeta ? if not thats perfectly fine :)) (also!!! ur probably in my top ten favorite artists ever. you just . do em so good!!!!!)

🫴 a nepeta

[lunacelebrateslife]

[chanrizard]

thanks to duck* stay...? 🦆🤨

* "우리 STAY = our STAY" / "오리 STAY = duck STAY"

[idontlikeem]

yeah so that’s sid’s laugh and sid who’s filming. mister stark i don’t feel so good.

if it’s not sid i don’t want to know. it sounds exactly like his laugh and so TO ME it’s him.

[cielcreations]

Mate Life - Prologue

AN: Probably won’t post too much of this story on Tumblr because it’s going to have a lot of 18+ content, so you can either read it on my Patreon or AO3.

Also, loooooots of shipping. So ye.

"Welcome everyone to a brand new season of the Life Series!" Grian announced, everyone cheering, "Welcome back to all returning players from Limited Life, and of course a big welcome back to Lizzie, Ren, and Mumbo! We missed you last season!"

"More like you missed Mumbo." Joel teased.

"Shut up. As if you didn't miss Lizzie!"

"I had my Bad Boys!" Joel exclaimed, wrapping his arm around Solidarity, the dirty blonde laughing, "Even if he died first again!"

"We don't talk about that." Solidarity immediately pushed him away, chuckling.

"Aaaaaanyways, a huge welcome to all the new members joining! Round of an applause for Beef, Gem, Pix, and Zed!"

Everyone clapped and cheered for the newcomers, a couple of "that's my boy/girl!" shouts accompanying the applause.

"Alright, this season is a bit special. And by a bit, I mean really special. Everyone remembers the consent forms I had you sign? Well, this season is called Mate Life!" Grian began to explain, "Like previous games, we start out with three lives and a green name. Two lives means yellow and one life means red. Greens cannot PVP unless defending themselves, Yellows can PVP Greens and defend themselves, and Red can PVP everyone and also defend themselves. The twist is, however, the reason we have extra people joining.

Everyone is assigned a role; Alpha, Beta, or Omega. Alphas have an increase in strength, but three less hearts. Omegas have a decrease in strength, but three extra hearts. Betas are kinda unique. They have slightly increased regeneration when around their Omega and a slight increase in strength when around their Alpha. You must form pacts of three with one of each role! Don't worry, there will be an even number of each role, so we should end up with 7 teams!"

"What happens if we don't?" Impulse asked.

"You will start to feel the effects. Instincts will beg for a pack and, depending on what you are, depends on how you will react. Omegas will start to grow depressed, longing for an Alpha and a Beta. Alphas will become aggressive, almost as aggressive as Reds high on bloodlust. Betas will experience a mix of two."

"So, it's best we form a trio?" Bdubs asked.

"Yep." Grian nodded, "I mean, not only that, but if other people form trios and you're alone? Well, you could loose quickly." He then smiled, "Any more questions?"

No one said anything.

"Alright! Also, don't worry, Boogeyman is not in this season! If one of your trio members turns Red before you, you can still team with them! You won't be connected like Double Life, but you should still stick together in your packs!  I think that's it so, if everyone is ready, make sure to click 'Ready' on your communicator!"

Everyone did so and their vision went black as they were teleported.

***

Grian opened his eyes and smiled. He spawned right next to a forest with a cave, an easy way to get some wood, stone, and even some iron! He began to gather materials, getting wood and stone tools.

"Hello? Anyone over here?"

"Hello?" Grian called back, "Zed, is that you?"

"Oh, thank god!" The sheep hybrid called back, coming into the cave with him, "Hey, I'm glad I'm by someone I know!"

Grian chuckled, "Nervous?"

"A bit." Zed admitted, "I mean, never done this before! And some of the people I've never met! So, I'm a bit nervous. Oh, when do we get our roles?"

They heard beeps on their communicators and looked down, seeing a countdown starting from five.

"In four seconds." Grian teased.

3.

2.

1.

[vendettasfanfictioning]

oh my fucking god dean had to carry cas' body to get him onto the pyre he had to carry all of cas' dead weight while the grief still clung to his shoulders he wrapped up cas' body himself and when sam mentions the meadow, he says it's where dean spread the ashes, excluding him and jack because dean wouldn't have let anyone else handle cas so dean had to be the one to carry cas from the house table to the pyre they all lost something in cas, a friend, a protector, a father, but dean lost half of his soul that night oh i am unwell and unstable with these thoughts—

[shotmrmiller]

who's the alpha that would recognize who his omega is cuz she smells ripe and sweet, ready to be picked off the branch but he decides that the only fate he will follow is the one he chooses for himself but then gets all territorial when said omega takes a beta to help her with her heat and why is it john price?

[lainalit]

Tamlin antis: Ew Tamlin getting on his knees and begging Rhysand to spare feyre in book one is such an ICK! Good thing Rhysand never needs to beg or ask tAmPoN for help with anything since he is so pOwErFuL & knows everything

Fast forward Acosf where pregnant feyre was told not to shapeshift by a non-shapeshifter medic and Rhysand being too proud to ask for help by the only other known shapeshifter within the series who feyre got her powers from about it

[hayaku14]

i just think if kaito sees this shinichi he's gonna lose his goddamn mind like i think he's actually gonna end up stealing for real just to sate this deep-seated desire he never even knew he had of wanting to decorate shinichi with jewelries and gems and ooooohhhhh like i know he's gonna find the ones that compliment shinichi's blue eyes the most, i fear for all the sapphire owners in japan y'all better hold on to them cause kaitou kid might just not return them for real lmaooo

[mothwingwritings]

Miscommunication

F!Reader X Pickle

Hello everyone! Sorry for the lack of communication. I’ve been doing this or that, working on stuff, surviving summer, you know how it is.

I have been picking away at quite a few fics recently, but I am all over the place so they are all getting worked on/done/edited at different paces. I wrote this lil Pickle fic in the midst of it all. It was born purely from the thought of a yandere licking up your tears that they themself were the cause of, so I picked a guy and ran with that. I chose Picky because my feral mans does NOTrealize how much of a menace he is to you but by God he’s gonna keep on forcing his love on you until one of you dies. :)

18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!

Thank you and enjoy!

WARNINGS: Noncon, forced interaction/cuddling, dacryphilia, miscommunication (if you couldn’t tell by the title), light editing, 18+ only!!!

There were plenty of things Pickle loved about you.

He loved the way you looked. So different from the people of his time, you were distinct in a way all your own. The moment he first laid his eyes upon you he was beseeched by curiosity, your unique appearance adding to the intrigue of your already undeniable beauty and charm. You were smaller, softer, and far more polished than the women he was used to. With glossy well-kept hair and not a mark of dirt or grime upon your body, you appeared to him to be almost glowing. This pure presentation made him feel as if he was beholding some glorious creature from another planet, not a mere human woman. You were definitely something that should be far out of his reach, breathtakingly lovely, but unattainable. Yet somehow here you were, right within his grasp, ripe for his consumption. Having such a gorgeous and otherworldly creature in his vicinity was far too enticing, how could he not be expected to stake his claim?

He loved the way you smelled, though those strange sprays you coated your body with were a bit much for his liking. He preferred your natural scent, the one you always tried to mask for whatever reason, the one that differentiated you from the rest of the herd. He could pick it out from anywhere at any time no matter how far from him you strayed, but it would become especially pungent when you were worked up or excited. He relished those moments, pleased to get a whiff of it through the artificial cover of stinking flowers and fruits. Heady and ambrosial, he would bask in your natural essence, inhaling it deeply as if he were receiving a treat.

He also loved the way you sounded, though your words made no sense to him. All the people that surrounded him seemed to make the same kinds of noises, their lips forming sounds that he was sure held all manner of meaning, but none of it he was privy to. Not that it mattered to him really. Different forms of communication suited him much better than spoken word ever could anyway, and despite the lack of common speech he shared with his new peers, he got by just fine. When Pickle bared his teeth or showed open pleasure, those that were nearby seemed to understand him all the same, so there had never been much need to put thought into their dialogue.

… That was, until he met you. It frustrated him sometimes, when you would speak to him with words he could not comprehend. When you talked with a smile he could assume he did something pleasing, or at the very least you weren’t upset, but when you would frown and raise your voice… What exactly was upsetting you? If it was something he did he wanted to correct it right away, your pretty smile suited you much better than a grumpy frown did. He’d do just about anything to keep it on your face forever, if only he knew the words to say or understood the specific requests you spoke to make that happen. The sounds that spilled from your throat… What praises and admonishments was he missing? What words could he say back to keep you smiling, laughing, happy? He wanted to know, struggled to know, but the language barrier was just too great, leaving him distraught and guessing.

When you spoke to other people (other men particularly) and they understood you perfectly, chuckling and nodding, responding to you in kind… It upset him. Who were they to communicate with you so freely? Who were they to speak with you so openly, when all he could seem to get across was rudimentary ideas and feelings? Even if he loved to hear the cadence of your voice, the lack of understanding and the annoyance these mysterious conversations caused was something he couldn’t quite shake.

But even with all the adoration he felt for you, there was one, and only one, thing he didn’t love about you- your tears.

In his era, cries from your mate meant one of a small handful of things. They were hurt and/or scared, there was a threat nearby and they needed protection, or they simply needed their mates help with something. Regardless of which of these options may have brought on the tears, it was always very easy to figure out what the situation was and for the other party to act accordingly.

But each time you cried was a conundrum. You never seemed to shed just a few tears, throwing your heart into full on wailing at the top of your lungs each time your eyes began to remotely water. Whenever this would occur he would momentarily panic, scooping your perturbed body up to force you against his chest, desperate in his attempt to ascertain a cause of concern that would bring you to this state, one that he could never seem to find. He’d turn your body around this way and that, scouring every inch of you with his eyes and hands to check and see if he could pinpoint any wounds or blood. But while you thrashed and fought as he carried out his inspection, his hands always came back clean, and you never seemed to show particular distress when he pressed down on any given area of your body (save for your more private areas, but you always put up a fuss with those). He’d investigate your surrounding area, prowling for anyone or anything that may have scared you or caused alarm, but found nary a soul or item out of place that could have caused you such distress.

That only left the third option- that you were looking to him for help. But help with what? He had already secured you in the safest place he could find, nestling you far away from any potential threats or creatures that could cause you harm. Though he knew you were not a fan of the dank, malodorous, stone underbelly of the village, it was something you would have to get used to. Keeping you elsewhere was simply too risky. Besides, this area was familiar to him, being not unlike some of the cave dwellings of his old home. And with the pathways being so straightforward and long, he could easily monitor surrounding activity and hide you away should someone show up to cause problems (not that anyone would, most seemed to ignore this place entirely, which was another one of its many appeals).

The paths also snaked deep underground, with exits leading rather far out from the more bustling areas of civilization. It made it easy to hunt and gather, so he had no problems providing you with food, clothing, bedding-anything at all you may need he brought to you, and he was happy to do so. He took honor in being your provider, your lover, your mate.

You were safe, you were cared for, and you were loved by him. He showed it in every way he could, serving and providing in ways that went above and beyond what any other potential partner could do for you. Down here in the depths, he shielded you from all that may have hurt you in your old life. Maybe he didn’t understand your speech, but he could clearly see the toll living with the others above ground was taking on you. Each slump of your shoulder and sigh from your lips was recorded in his memory, the weary look you often wore as you pushed yourself harder than necessary haunted his thoughts until he was pushed into action. Every man whose misplaced comments made you scowl had met a grisly end by his hands, assuring they would never bother you again. Every stress of your old life had been removed, all of the agonies of your previous day to day a thing of the past.

Now the only thing you had to focus on was being a good mate to him- a skill you already excelled at by simply existing. You had no need to be sad, you were perfect, and he was doing all he could to show you this.

So why? Why did you always cry?

Even now as he was buried deep inside of you, the pleasure of feeling you stretch to accommodate his massive size so intense he could barely maintain his sanity, tears continued to spill freely from your eyes.  There was absolutely no reason for them- you were always such a good girl for him, bringing him pleasure and joy he scarcely believed was achievable. If anything you should be proud about how well you take him, about how incredibly good you were making him feel, about how flawless you were as his mate. He loved you, he adored you, he would do any and everything for you, and he planned on doing so until his dying day.

Yet still, you cried.

He couldn’t keep them from happening, and he couldn’t think of any other way to stop them, so the least he could do is try and staunch them for a bit. Holding your face still between his hands, he laved his rough tongue slowly over the apples of your cheeks, passing over your tightly clenched eyes in an attempt to cleanse you of your malaise. Time and time again he lapped at your face like a mother lion cleaning it’s cub, moving from the left cheek to the right cheek in quick succession to drink up as many of your salty tears as he could.

Eventually it seemed to work, or at least it caused your upset sobbing to turn into little more than gentle mewling. Maybe you were just doing this to appease him, or perhaps you were finally sharing in the immense pleasure he had been experiencing, overshadowing whatever negative feelings caused you to cry to begin with. Regardless, the tears were trickling to a standstill, and while they weren’t completely quelled, seeing them diminish caused him to smile brightly. He could consider this a victory.

But as he stared down at your tear stained face, moist and red from a mixture of his saliva and your own upset, he couldn’t deny that there wasn’t a charm to witnessing you in such a state. As he picked up his pace, reaching a particularly sweet spot inside of you, you began to scream out, overcome with the intensity of it all. Once more water seeped into your eyes, and he watched mesmerized as fat tears slid down your face, accompanied by whimpers each time his brutal pacing brushed your core. The way your tears accented your ecstasy, adding to the breath taking view only he would ever have the delight of seeing, he couldn’t find himself hating your cries any longer.

Maybe he had been misguided this whole time, realizing now that this may just be another special attribute of yours. He was starting to understand you better, and felt a fool for being so mistaken for so long. Your cries were unique, acting as a sign of immense happiness, not distress. He laughed slightly at his own blunder, it wouldn’t be the first time he had misunderstood you, but this certainly was the most ridiculous miscommunication.

His smile grew as he thrust into you victoriously, elated at his triumph in unlocking a great mystery about you. This whole time he should have never tried to stop them. From now on, he should try and make you cry more.

[acomaflove]

Rhysand: We take matters in the night court very seriously.

————————————————————

Also Rhysand: I will conclude this meeting by saying………the floor is lava.

~everyone in the room freezes~

Cassian: *scrambling* SHIT

Feyre: *jumping on Rhysand’s back* STOP DOING THIS

Morrigan: *hopping on a table* NOT AGAIN

Azriel, already sitting with his legs fully up on a couch: I win.

[idontlikeem]

i’m fine.