#souls writing

[thelastwalkingsoul]

Steve never really 'did' easter.

His parents were always away or too busy. Easter egg hunts were always 'too childish, Steven.' He was usually stuck in the house with a nanny or by himself, or being shoved into itchy clothes and dragged to church. Steve didn't get jealous when all the other kids would talk about their easter with joy in their voices. He didn't get upset that get missed out. It was fine, really it was. Steve didn't care.

So, the year after Vecna, when everything had settled down, Steve had an idea. One that had absolutely nothing to do with his lack of easter celebrations as a child and everything to do with giving the kids some fun.

It's Eddie who finds him filling the plastic eggs with candy. He looks all sleep-ruffled, his hair a mess, engulfed in one of Steve's sweaters. Eddie chuckles as he pours his coffee, coming to lean on the kitchen bench across from Steve. "Does little Stevie want to do an egg hunt?"

Steve knows he means it as a joke, purely seeing the situation and deciding to tease, but it still hurts. He scoffs, "Not me. It's for the kids."

Steve fights to keep his voice normal but mustn't do a great job because suddenly, Eddie's cupping Steve's face with his hands.

"Hey, baby," Eddie croons. "What's wrong?"

Steve drops his eyes to the egg in his hands. "Nothing."

"Don't 'nothing' me. Did I say something?"

Steve sighs, glancing up at Eddie's face. The concern in his boyfriend's eyes is almost too much. "I just- I want to give them something fun."

"That's sweet," Eddie says but Steve can his tactic coming from a mile away. He knows there's more, he's just waiting for Steve to say it.

He huffs, and Steve thinks he must look so childish as he quietly admits, "I didn't do anything for Easter as a kid."

Before he can do anything, he's enveloped by Eddie's warm arms. Steve hugs back, relishing in the comfort Eddie brings. "I'm sorry you missed out on that baby," Eddie whispers in his ear. Steve simply hums back, not wanting to get into it. When Steve pulls back (he's almost always the first to pull back, Eddie lets him decide when he's ready), he's greeted with Eddie's smile. "I believe we have eggs to hide, princess."

They spend the rest of the morning hiding eggs in Steve's backyard. Steve tries to make them actually hard to find. His kids are smart; simply putting a few in bushes isn't going to be enough. It isn't until he looks up to see Eddie scaling a tree that he has to reign him in and scold him. 'I don't want them up trees, Eddie! They could get hurt. So could you!' When the kids arrive, they're surprised, but after a few teasing comments about Steve being such a mom, it becomes a free for all. They're all yelling and scrambling for eggs, leaving Steve and Eddie to watch by the sidelines. He can't help but feel warm inside as he sees El's proud smile and Lucas holding Max's hand as they search. His kids are safe and having fun, which is all he can ask for after the last few years. Even Eddie's getting into it, being a menace as Dustin demands clues and cackling at Dustin's face when he refuses. He comes up to Steve later, leaning close and admitting, "I love watching them loose their tiny minds." Steve just snorts and smacks a kiss on Eddie's cheek.

After dinner, Eddie insists he'll clean up and sends Steve to go shower. Steve caves, kissing Eddie quickly before making his way upstairs. Once he's showered and back in his bedroom, he notices something yellow on his bed. A lone plastic egg sits there, suspicious. Steve opens it carefully, fully expecting Eddie to have put something strange inside. Instead, it's a piece of paper, a clue written in Eddie's messy writing. Steve follows it downstairs, finding another. And another after that. And another after that. It's the closest Steve's ever been to having an easter egg hunt, and he can't say he isn't loving it.

The trail leads Steve to the living room. A pink egg sits on the coffee table. Steve picks it up and opens it, just like all the others. Except this one doesn't hold a clue. Written in slightly more tidy handwriting are two words; 'A Promise'. Underneath is something wrapped in soft red material.

As Steve unravels it, a ring drops into his hand. It's a simple gold band that shines in the soft light. A promise.

"Do you like it?"

He looks up to see Eddie, worrying his lip between his teeth. Steve smiles, tears welling in his eyes. "Eds, I love it." He moves towards Eddie and holds his left hand out. A grin comes alive on Eddie's face. He picks up the ring with gentle hands, sliding it onto Steve's ring finger. Steve moves his hand, admiring how it looks. Admiring the meaning and loving the way he feels immediately branded as Eddie's.

Steve looks up and launches himself at Eddie, kissing him hard. He can taste tears, whether they be his or Eddie's. They kiss soft yet hard, pushing all their feelings into the kiss, only pulling away when they're both breathing heavily. Steve closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Eddie's.

"I love you, Steve. Now and forever. I promise."

Part 1 (kinda)

[rosecoloredkiri]

cw: closet fucking, unprotected sex, creampie

"Be quiet."

His words are a soft whisper, his hands rough the way they follow along your skin. A shiver runs up your spine.

Kirishima didn't seem like the type to be into this sort of thing, yet here the two of you are, shoved into a storage closet while your friends all continue with dinner. There's no way they haven't noticed the two of you missing and if there's any guesses to where you've run off, you doubt they'd look for you.

The darkness makes it hard to see. You don't need to see him though. His lips are eager to catch yours, fingers eager to trace your goose bumps, chest eager to meld against yours. The air is quickly becoming heated and intoxicating.

Kirishima releases your mouth enough to hear the way your breath hitches, the way it gets needy, feel the way it brushes out across his cheeks. His hands have landed refuge on your hips, squeezing them roughly, but his thumbs cascade over the skin your shirt has exposed. A whine escapes into the air before he swallows it.

"We gotta be quick baby." The words are breathy. He lets go to start undoing his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free, weighing heavily and curving down.

You make haste to pull down your leggings and then he's quickly forcing you up the wall. Grunts come from both of you, the pressure of his body against yours melting your brain. He guides his tip through your slick folds and traces his lips against yours again.

"I'm ready." It comes out more whiny than you'd like and you know if you weren't doing a quickie in your friends closet, he'd make you beg for it for being so whiny. Luckily you don't have to beg.

Kirishima attaches your lips together roughly as he pushes into your heat. Your chest is vibrating from the groans and whines that want to escape, but he eats them whole like he wants to savor them forever.

He doesn't waste any time before pulling out and plunging into you again, quickly setting a pace. Your lips are still attached which causes your vision to blur. Everything feels so dizzy and it just causes more wetness to seep from you, a twitch from him in response.

The pace is starting to increase along with your breathing. It feels like your heart is drumming inside your head with the way he's pounding into you and it isn't long before you feel the coil in your stomach start to twist.

Kirishima's cock is pulsating inside you, a sign that he's close. Your hand travels down between your bodies to rub against your clit, sensitivity sparking up through your body and twisting the coil so tight it's close to snapping any moment.

"You can cum baby. Please cum on me." He starts to whisper it needily between kisses. His voice is high pitched, like a whine, and you know he's so desperate to feel you come undone.

A few more thrusts happen before the coil finally unravels and the both of you can feel the way you start to pulse and gush around him. Curses fall from his lips as he lets go himself, filling you to not make a mess.

A few seconds pass to catch your breathe before he helps you get your leggings back on and does up his jeans. The two of you are softly giggling the whole time, not truly believing you actually fucked in a closet.

You make a mental note to do it again.

[evidently-endless]

i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.

[kookoofufu]

I love Oda but man is INSANE for not making the timeskip more relevant to the straw hats outside of power ups

Brook: Literally a rockstar??? There should have been a running gag where people ask Brook for his autograph at every island they visit! It would be so funny if some villains were starstruck fans trying to keep it together during a fight!

Sanji: It would have been great if the newkama recipes came up more than once. There could have been a gag where Sanji stops in the middle of a battle to literally cook a power up for the crew. Imagine this man dicing onions in Onigashima, force-feeding Zoro a stew during his fight with King

Robin: She worked under Dragon for two years, met Sabo and Koala and maybe Ivankov, she probably knows the Army's entire plan to take down the gov and yet it never comes up! Does she know about Kuma? Nika? The five elders? Does she secretly communicate with the Rev Army????

Zoro: I love the idea of Perona teaching Zoro about fashion. It wouldn't have plot relevance but imagine him busting out some fashion tips out of nowhere every so often.

I'd love to hear more ideas, the missed opportunities here haunt me.

Edit: link to ongoing collection of headcanons since some people only see the first four ideas

[ruhlare]

from "i know you by heart"

[the-witchhunter]

So Lucifer Morningstar, the fourth of the fallen, (retired) ruler of hell, the Devil himself, is a character in DC comics, appearing in the Sandman comics, his own solo run and various other comics

He is absurdly powerful

The thing is, Lucifer still has access to his Divine power, unlike other fallen angels, and is actually more powerful than other angels

What does this mean?

Lucifer was the guy that shaped the matter to create the stars, an ability he still has

Enter one Danny Fenton

“Omg(oh my ghost) I’m a HUGE FAN of your work”

Just Danny fangirling over the literal Devil because of stars and space

[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.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

got a worm nibbling my brain. can someone help me find a piece of obscure media?

webcomic/indie comic from the 2010s. basically a sci-fi short story about a young girl (with red hair?) who was being raised by scientists as part of an experiment. she receives a haircut/has her head shaved, in preparation for her annual brain scan/testing. it is revealed that while her body is human, her "brain" is artificial, made of computer implants throughout her skull and spine. at some point her biological mother (also a scientist on the same campus?) encounters her and is repulsed, viewing her as a machine who has murdered her daughter.

it was very poignant and it bruised my heart and i can NOT find it anywhere

[joytri]

I wish to live a life that causes my soul to dance inside my body.

Dele Olanubi

[thelastwalkingsoul]

Eddie didn't experience an easter egg hunt until Wayne.

That first year Eddie had lived with Wayne had been a whirlwind of emotions. Eddie had been lost and scared, not trusting Wayne and too on edge to get comfortable. He'd bounced back and forth between being quiet and making himself small to yelling at Wayne to try and get a reaction. Eddie doesn't like thinking about that year, but the good parts stick out from the bad. The parts when Wayne tried his best to make the curveball that was little Eddie happy.

He remembers his first Easter with Wayne. The awkward gruff way Wayne had called Eddie out of his room and told him to start looking. How confused Eddie was until he moved a cushion and found a bright blue plastic egg. He doesn't remember how he reacted, but that was one of the first moments Eddie truly considered that Wayne might care for him.

They'd continued the tradition. Wayne would (very poorly) hide plastic eggs around the trailer, always filled with whatever candy happened to be Eddie's favourite at the time. Eddie would go looking for them, usually putting on a show of not being able to find any at first, just to get that amused smile out of his uncle. He'd gather them all up in a bowl that would sit on the kitchen bench, slowly being cracked open over the following days.

One year, Eddie picked up an egg only to notice that the weight was off. All the eggs usually felt just as heavy as each other, but that one was way lighter. He'd looked to his uncle, who shrugged. So Eddie opened it. Inside were a handful of guitar picks in various colours, but there was one in particular that stood out. It was a red and black celluloid pick, the colours and pattern similar to his sweetheart he'd bought only months earlier. Eddie had taken one look at Wayne's face and laughed himself at the man, hugging him tight.

The pick still lives on the chain around his neck.

Part 2 (kinda)

[gi4hao]

☆ wonwoo x gn!reader — warnings: mentions of nausea

just wonwoo being completely whipped for his s/o <3

if there’s one thing both wonwoo and you are grateful for, it’s your ability to sleep with noise around.

the clock on your right is displaying 1am, and the last time wonwoo got up from his gaming chair was two hours ago, to bring you a glass of water and kiss you goodnight.

it hadn’t been hard to fall asleep, relaxed by the steady clicks of his fingers on the keyboard and the occasional whirring of the hard drive. but a queasiness seemed to have settled in your stomach, making it much harder to stay asleep.

without even looking at him, you know wonwoo has his headphones on. it’s no use trying to call him, and standing up seems a little too risky right now. with a heavy sigh, you turn to your side to at least catch a glimpse of his focused face and occasional nose scrunches.

“is everything ok?” he asks just a few seconds later, snapping a quick glance at you before looking back at his screen.

“i- how did you know i’m awake?” you ask, and immediately notice how talking makes your nausea feel worse.

with a frown, you put a hand on your stomach, tracing circles on your skin in hope it might make a difference.

“i know everything” wonwoo smiles, still focused on his game. “are you okay?”

“i’m not feeling so good” you reply, trying your best to be loud enough for him to hear you.

and he apparently does, since he lets his headphones rest on his shoulders as he slightly spins his chair to face you. with a worried look, wonwoo silently offers you to come sit on his lap like you often do, sometimes for no particular reason.

you’re quick to reply with a slight shake of your head, your face twisted in an uneasy expression. that’s how he knows you really aren’t feeling well, because you usually never decline this kind of offer.

“need some water? a pill? …me?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed after turning his computer off.

in lieu of an actual answer, you simply grab his t-shirt to pull him to bed, making him chuckle in surprise. and the sounds you hear next are more than familiar: him taking his glasses off, folding the arms and gently putting them on the nightstand.

your face is now inches apart from his chest, and you let out a content sigh as his reassuring smell envelops you in a tight hug.

“can i?” he whispers, his fingers slowly lifting the cloth of your t-shirt (well, his t-shirt actually).

you nod, and he lets his hand find its way to your stomach, careful as if you were made of glass. his palm covers much more surface than yours, especially as he starts to rub your skin in slow circles.

“this feels nice” you hum, lulled by the steady lifts of his chest with every breath he takes. “i feel sleepy again.”

“good. try to get some rest baby, i’m not going anywhere” he whispers again, kissing the crown of your head.

wonwoo had not always been one to openly express physical affection, which was okay with you. but the more nights you spent in his company, the more he offered to cuddle you to sleep. and it was often in the early hours of the morning, when you woke up with your limbs intertwined, that you realized just how much you meant to him.

“but what about your game?” you ask, looking up at him in an attempt to make out his features. “you were close to winning, weren’t you?”

hearing those words, wonwoo lifts his free hand to the side of your face, tracing a gentle line along your cheek. it that moment, it feels as if the room is filled with the warmth of his affection.

“i’m pretty sure i already won” he replies, kissing the tip of your nose, an evident smile in his voice.

requests are open!

[bluerosefox]

Possessed Pearl's

You know how in some ghost stories sometimes its not a person or a land that's haunted but the items?

Well what if, when looking for a mother's day gift for his mom, Danny is looking around a pawn shop and finds a necklace, it's missing some pearls but it's just enough to pass off as a decent gift. Danny humms but decides against it and goes to leave it....

That was until he gasped out blue frost and spots a ghostly woman appear out of the necklace with a somber smile. She isn't as seeable as the other ghosts in Amity though, meaning she doesn't have enough ectoplasm on her own (that might change the longer she's in Amity and around Danny though) and that right now only Danny can see her.

And Danny well... hes been doing his hero gig for a bit now, might go and ask if there was anything he can do to help.

And later Danny's good deed... bites him back. Oh boy. Because now he has the Bats looking into Amity Park... Wait what do you mean Martha is now strong enough to be seen?!

[linipikk]

Scenes that go exponentially funnier after s2

RIGHT HANDS

MORAL ARGUMENT

+ Crowley having 1941 flashbacks

[jaggedjawjosh]

You asked for my trust, then marred it with betrayal, wondering why the faith was lost.

[ruhlare]

from "Our Heartbeats synchronize"

[charcoaledrocks]

hello Tumblr User @pittdpeaches you ruined my life / j