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inkskinned · 10 months

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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME #there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing #and the writing is what i need to be doing #writeblr #this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to #edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol #i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means #i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong #i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse #i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO #i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness #and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it #im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us #i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer #and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work #even if it means being miserable #but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.

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lazylittledragon · 3 months

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Hello I love your bg3 content and your Dorian is so lovely! Can we get like an alternative reality with Dorian and Ascended Astarion? What would your headcannon be for them? 🙇

something like this, probably

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #tavstarion #ascended astarion #tw blood #long post #i may have gotten carried away with this #the only good thing dorian got out of being vampire lord astarion's concubine was a lovely bedchamber and a dramatic robe #i think dorian's attitude to a lot of things is 'it can't be that bad' until it is very very very bad #'maybe he won't be that bad' until you've been locked in a palace for decades and there's nothing left for you to love anymore #i got nauseous writing this i HATE him #it was such a delicious prompt though and i can't say i never thought about it #also i didn't realise until after i wrote it that this was how interview with the vampire ends. nvm

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helpful-writing-tips · 3 months

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How To End Your Story

The Circle Ending: A story that does a full circle and comes back to the beginning

The Moral Ending: An ending where you learn a lesson and see the character develop

The Surprise Ending: A big plot twist last-minute

The Reflection Ending: The character looks back on their past achievements and experiences

The Emotional Ending: Leave your readers feelings sad, bittersweet, or happy

The Cliffhanger Ending: End on something that will leave your readers at the edge of their seat

The Humor Ending: Finish in a funny or humorous way

The Question Ending: Make the reader wonder what will happen next

The Image Ending: Show, don't tell

The Dialogue Ending: Finish with a quote from one of your characters

#how to end your story #writing tips #advice #writeblr #writing advice #writers on tumblr

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kingofmyborrowedheart · 19 days

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Begging swifties to understand that Taylor didn’t write reputation and Lover with the knowledge of how the relationship was going to end and that trying to “excavate” those albums for evidence to prove a specific theory as to why it ended is not how they should be viewed. Taylor wrote those songs feeling a very specific way because that’s what she was experiencing and she is now reflecting on them with hindsight and relates to them differently than when she first created them. These conflicting emotions can exist; how she views it now doesn’t diminish how she felt about it when she first released it.

#taylor swift #don’t know if I’m expressing myself as properly and as articulate as I’d like #but both of the emotions she’s feeling about the songs can coexist #like little lover can still be a love song that’s what it was for her for a while #but she can also look back and say ‘oh maybe this wasn’t the best’ but it doesn’t void what it was originally #like I keep seeing things like oh she wrote this lyric in lover about him not showing up and it’s like no that’s not right #like yes you can see her underlying anxieties and fears in those songs because she was open about them #it doesn’t mean she predicted how it would end #there was a point in time where she thought this man was the one and would write about feeling that way

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bluerosefox · 4 days

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It's shenanigans time guys

So have this DpxDc idea.

So, the Justice League and the Light (OR villains in general) have two newish members, they've both been around for about a year and they're from the same plane of existence (a place called the Infinite Realms according to those who dabble in the occult)

And the two seem to have some serious beef with each other.

Wisp and Wrath are basicly feral cats hissing and hekles raised when they spot the other and their fights normally ends in draws. They're evenly matched and sometimes the two even fight to the point they are out of steam and just fist fight.

Needless to say everyone believes they totally hate each other and might one day kill (or end?) One of them.

So everything gets turned upside down when suddenly both factions of heros and villains are suddenly summoned to the Infinite Realms.

In a throne room.

In front of the Infinite King (or most commonly known as the Ghost King)

A King who looks very, very much like Wisp and Wrath (like yeah the two do sometimes look alike, like when they grin with sharp teeth and their hair color, but one has blue skin and red eyes for crying out loud!)

He's staring at them, glowing green eyes that seemed to just... know.

"Welcome to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." His voice echoing in the throne room and seemed to rattle them deeply, like a sudden chill in the early morning.

"I have summoned you all here for a single reason." He continued to say "Tell me..."

Here he paused, closed his eyes before leaning back on the chair then he smiled big and cheerfully asked.

"How are my kids doing in your world? Dan and Ellie arent causing too much chaos in their wake are they? They tend to go a tiny bit overboard sometimes but what siblings don't when they rough house you know. Tell me everything."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #dp x dc #blue rambles #danny phantom dc #writing ideas #random idea #dpxdc #dani phantom #danielle fenton #dan fenton #dan phantom #Danny is Dan and Ellie's dad in this one #ghost king danny #prince Dan #princess dani #One is Wisp and the other is Wrath #one is with heroes while the other is with villains #and they fight each other when given the chance #everyone thinks they HATE each other #but theyre just being Realm Siblings #meaning they go rough in their playing #who is who is up to you and whose on what side #Danny's been King for a while btw #he also knows which side his kids are on #he doesnt care as long as they dont cause world ending stuff #to much paperwork for the Realms #Danny summoned the two factions for a parent teacher conference tbh #he wants to know how his kids are fairing in their world

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katabay · 3 months

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ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A KNIGHT...

the visual inspiration for this was a combination of Frederic William Burton's Meeting on the Turret Stairs and also Bernardo Cavallino's The vision of St. Dominic receiving the Rosary from the Virgin

this was supposed to be just a one off illustration to get the thoughts out of my system, but then I started thinking about medieval politics and warfare and plagues and a castle and home as both a place of refuge, a prison, and a tomb, so perhaps they will end up as ex voto characters as well.

you may say, hey! that rosary looks like it has too many beads! it's a fifteen decade rosary, probably. dominicans are really into marian devotions. it works out.

also. spiral style stair cases. oh boy. it was that unexpectedly more difficult than I originally thought it would be to draw. the more I think about it, the less I understand them, even though I had a million photos of the stairs in front of me while I was drawing it.

⭐ I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!

⭐ and other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

#the economy and my bank account are in shambles and i ended up stress drawing this whole thing in one go #its so many lines. the next time i draw this. because i will be revisiting this composition. i want to use a different inking brush #i think. but the next time i draw this it will be with solid blacks on the stair case steps i think #hey here's a fun fact for those of you who aren't catholic. did you know that kissing the ring of the pope/a cardinal/etc #grants you an indulgence. cardinals also used to kiss the pope on the mouth. also foot and hand iirc. anyway #there are no cardinals in this drawing but im saying if you write medieval/renaissance smut about men of the cloth #you can really amp up the friction between holy and seductive with a lot of the (gestures vaguely) that.#actually another fun fact about cardinals. their fun sun hat (it's called a galero) has some fucking weird as hell fever dream (literally)#origin lore. so if seductive isn't your thing. the horror of a thing that you wear is also extremely fun #esp when you get into medieval gender performances of clothes and how they define a person etc #generic medieval tag #original tag

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illufinch · 7 months

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fish for a commission

#my art #pixel #LOL when i was writing the caption i automatically pressed #comma at the end like its a tab #i love drawing fish its very soothing #i love how all fish look shocked O^O faces

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caliartcat · 19 days

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klavier you're gonna have to be more direct than that

#happy autism month #i tried to write an image description idk if its any good tho #klapollo #kyodoroki #apollo justice #klavier gavin #ace attorney #art #i still dont know how i want to draw apollo ngl i'll figure it out over time i guess #i already have more klapollo art ideas the grind never ends

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 4 months

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I never really made a request before so that's my first time wish u like it

So I was thinking about some fluff drunk y/n acting all stupid and flirty to bakugo who doesn't like drinking around her because he knows that they both won't have someone to send them home if they got drunk

[Secretly caring]

*Whispering* he also gets a bit touchy if she let's him

*friends to lovers thing*

Wish my explanation was good enough and can't wait for the next chapter of FBRC <3

OUUU this is such a cute idea ! i’m so happy, this is my first request as well so we both have a milestone LMAOOO ! i tried to honour your request as best i could ! <3 (OU and AAAAA im glad you like FBRC ! i hope you’ll keep reading !)

bakugou katsuki considers himself a mature, mostly rational person.

despite what others, media outlets and even his own damn friends might say, katsuki thinks he’s really not that bad.

sure, he’s flipped off a camera man, cursed out another one…and another one—but who doesn’t have a bad day once in a while ?

he’s changed since he was a kid, he doesn’t get set off as easy anymore most days. he’s learned to be more patient, a little more levelheaded. that’s at least something his shitty friends will tell you.

he’s changed from when he was a kid, he’s grown now. he’s a man.

but right now katsuki feels like smashing your head in with a brick.

"kah-su-kiiiiiiiii... m'sleeppyy" you whine, leaning against his shoulder.

katsuki doesn't regret a lot, but he sure as hell regrets accepting to go out for drinks with you. again. you had said something about 'celebrating getting a day off after a while'.

"never should've accepted goin' out with yer ass." he laments grumpily. despite the fact he says this every single time he goes out to drink with you, he never seems to learn his lesson. he never seems to want to learn his lesson.

truth is, katsuki has grown a lot since his UA days but one thing he hasn't outgrown is his giant rampant crush on you. it's embarrassing how tightly you've got him wrapped around your finger, how easily you can get him to do whatever you want as long as you just asked him to.

he complains and grumbles about it but he'll never, ever, say no to you.

which is how he always, always, ends up in this predicament.

katsuki snaps out of his thoughts when he hears you sniffle.

"y-ya don't like.." you sniffle again " ya don't like hangin' out wif me ?"

fuck.

immediatly it's like a switch had been flipped. he moves his arm so he can wrap it around you and have you lean against his chest. you always got emotional when you were a little too drunk, that usually meant it was time to go.

"no—no, s'not that. i—" he sucks in a breath, cheeks heating up despite the fact he knows there's barely any chance you'll remember this. usually he'd remind you of your embarrassing drunk moments as revenge for making him take you home and taking care of your ass because you were too drunk to, but he'll refrain from mentioning this part.

"i do like hangin' out with you, dummy. quit talkin' stupid." he shushes you softly, unconsciously rubbing your arm comfortingly.

"b-but you said, you regretted goin' out wit me" you pout. fuck, you're cute. katsuki has to fight off the urge to lean down and kiss it away.

"i say a lot of stuff i don't always mean, sweets. you know that." he replies " 'f i didn't wanna hang out with ya, i wouldn't."

you hum pensively, leaning against his shoulder as you think. you smell like something sweet, he can't quite track down what it is, but it's making him dizzy. you've always had the ability to make him lose focus. you're so close and you smell so good and katsuki feels like he's drunk.

"mmyeah...guess that's true" you hiccup. you raise your hand up to trace his jaw line with your finger and he refuses to look at you but he can hear the cheeky little smile in your voice "you like hanging out with me, right ? that's why you always say yes when i ask !

he scoffs "i only say yes 'cuz i know you'd just end up goin' out anyway, you'd get yourself in trouble." he's stiff as a fucking board, he feels like if he moves a little too much he'll say something he shouldn't.

"no i wouldn't" you argue, then you reach your whole hand up to squeeze his cheeks "but even if i did, i know you'd come to save me, mr. dynamight" you giggle

he's so sick of you. katsuki's been in plenty of situations where he was this close to death, but he's certain you're gonna be the death of him.

"time for bed" he grumbles. he lifts you by your shoulders slightly until you can properly stand on your feet "m'getting you home, yer too drunk to be up right now" he asserts, chuckling when you pout at him when he flicks your forehead

"you're not the boss o' me ! 'm completely—oops" you trip forward but katsuki catches you with ease, he's always there to.

you look up at him innocently and he looks down at you with one eyebrow raised "you were sayin' ?" he sassed.

you roll your eyes at him and push off him slightly to stand more comfortably, you stick your tongue out at him. " i said—i'm fine..but if you wanna take me home that badly, i guess i'll allow it" you shrug. katsuki squints then shakes his head, smiling to himself. you catch him and giggle, he can't cover up his chuckle fast enough. you must look stupid to the other people in the bar just sitting there giggling at each other, he realizes. then he remembers he could honestly not give enough of a shit about what these other drunk losers thought, the only drunk loser he cared about was right here in his arms.

right where you belonged.

you're out like a light by the time katsuki's brought you back to your apartment, but he doesn't mind, he'd expected it anyway. he carries you like a sack of potatoes to your floor. he's glad he'd managed to grab your keys before you fell asleep, having to wrestle the keys from you and risk you getting cranky at him doesn't sound all that nice right now.

he helps you take off your shoes and he's extremely grateful you're just lucid enough to change by yourself. he helps you clean up and brush your teeth, then carries you to bed even though he knows damn well you could walk just fine. not before getting you to down a glass of water.

you're annoying when you're drunk and sleepy, you're whiny and everything is too much work for you. katsuki grumbles right along with you, calling you a pain in the ass, then promptly taking it back when he sees you tearing up again. he grumbles and complains but he knows he wouldn't let anyone else do it for him. not only because he's sure whoever it is wouldn't even be able to do this half as well as he does, but also because despite his better judgement, despite the fact you piss him off to no bounds, you're his to take care of. and he'd be damned if he let anyone else take care of what's his.

so you whine, and he complains, but he truly wouldn't have it any other way.

you insist on wanting him to stay with you and he knows he probably shouldn't. he likes you too much to just casually stay here with you, he knows he won't be able to sleep and he's just going to keep staring at your lashes fluttering as you dream. but you pout at him and plead him so sweetly, he really can't say no to you.

he likes you too much.

he steals one of your hoodies and a pair of sweatpants (he technically isn't stealing—since they're both his to begin with) and climbs into bed with you. you immediatly latch onto him, nuzzling into his shoulder before thanking him.

"for what ?" he mutters sleepily, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

"for.." you interrupt yourself with a yawn, he chuckles "for always takin' care of me..you're the best."

if you were more sober, he'd simply answer with a cocky "tell me something i don't know." but you're not and katsuki's already too far gone, so he squeezes your waist in appreciation then responds " i'm always gonna take care of you."

he's suprised by how soft and sappy he sounds but you suprise him even more when you lean up slightly to press a feather light kiss to the underside of his jaw and whisper a sweet little "love you."

he lays there for a good long while without response, you don't mind because you chose that exact moment to fall asleep. he lays there and he's sure he won't be able to fall asleep now. fuck you for knocking out and leaving him like this, he thinks. he's trying not to give himself false hope, maybe you meant it platonically. he keeps trying and he keeps thinking all night but he's still impossibly giddy.

he was contemplating not telling you anything about last night, but he can't help himself. he's nervous—god, he's so fucking nervous when you wake up while he's getting comfy in your kitchen like it was his, making breakfast. you look groggy and sleepy and hungover, but to him, you still look adorable.

when you're awake enough, munching away at the breakfast he's made, he tells you about last night and his heart slams against his chest when he mentions what you had told him.

though, when he sees how you choke on a piece of your toast, and how flustered you look, like a deer in headlights, his heart beats hard against his ribcage for a completely different reason.

the next time you go out for drinks, it's to celebrate the start of your relationship.

AAA first request done ! hope you liked this anon <3 if you guys have any request pleassseee lemme know !

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clairenatural · 5 months

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okay but you see sam has ALSO fallen for dean's act. sam also believes dean to be the macho, daddy's soldier, beer boobs cars guy he presents himself as. this is why sam makes fun of dean whenever he even lightly steps out of that mold and thinks it's harmless banter instead of attacking an insecurity. it's why he laughs when john talks down to dean in the early seasons and it's why he seems surprised when dean is more comfortable with himself in the later seasons. it's why he just scoffs but doesn't push it when dean puts up a front and refuses to talk about his emotions and just accepts whatever excuse he makes at face value. it's why he offers dean a strip club to make him feel better when cas dies. and this isn't his fault!! dean has spent a very long time perfecting this image in front of everyone and ESPECIALLY to sam because along with it comes safety and security and stability and the only person. who has consistently been able to see through it. is castiel

#charlie also a bit bc dean doesn't have to be desirable to her as a man or as a son #altho i would argue that she doesn't see through him he just doesn't perform as much for her. cas actively sees through it #this is why sam has never caught on to dean being queer also. btw. dean isn't closeted he's just never made a big deal of telling sam #you never really know your parents just the version of them they want you to see etc etc #anyway this is also why sam is thought to be More Sensitive in comparison #by people who have also fallen for the Act. i call this the General Audience Dean Act #because it was who he was SUPPOSED to be from kripke's pen until jensen went ummmmm no. he has trauma :) and forcibly gave him layers #this is also not samcrit btw i always need to clarify that #i am bad at sam studies but i think you could also write posts (and ppl have) about how dean doesn't truly know sam either #bc he has Little Baby Brother zoned him forever even though he is almost 40 by the end of s15

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tusks-and-claws · 11 months

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Cold Love/Hot Blood

Miguel O’Hara x female reader

Summary: “Between teeth on a broken jaw/following a bloodtrail, frothing at the maw”

Miguel is struck with something that he’s never experienced before

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, dubcon by way of pheromones, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, feral Miguel, biting, marking, blood drinking, paralytic venom

Wordcount: 3k

Ao3 link here

You opened your eyes, blinking at the soft light from the bleary haze. Wincing, you raised your hand to your head. It didn't necessarily hurt, but it definitely felt wrong. What had happened? You were on a mission. That's right. And it had been going so well, until… until the anomaly villain threw something at you and Miguel. What was it? It had such an awful smell to it. And, where was Miguel?

You traversed the rubble of the abandoned building you were in. You couldn't see him. You shouted out for him.

"Here, I'm here," you heard him from the distance. Following his voice, you found him under some pieces of sheetrock from a collapsed wall. He was pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask.

"Geez, Miguel, are you alright?"

"Been better." His voice sounded strained. "Got a transmission from Jess that she's got hands on the anomaly. We'll meet her back at HQ. You go on ahead of me."

"What? No, we have to-" you started grabbing at the rubble to pull it off of him. He caught your arm before you could keep lifting.

"Please," he said, trying to meet your eyes from behind his mask. "Just go."

"What the hell is going on, Miguel? You're not… you're not acting right. We have to get you out of here."

He brought his hands up, holding his head in frustration. "Please, just do it. Don't make me beg."

"LYLA, please check him," you said, the avatar popping up and saluting you.

"No, don't-!" He tried to catch her in the air but she evaded him.

"His heart rate is really elevated but he seems okay otherwise. I think he's being dramatic. I don't detect any major injuries," she reported. You thanked her and she disappeared.

You crouched down to where he was. "What's going on, Miguel?" Your tone was serious.

He tried to hold your gaze for a moment until he swore and looked away. "That bomb that the anomaly threw… it affected me in a way that it clearly didn't affect anyone else, alright? Are you happy now?"

You furrowed your brow. "I don't understand."

He sighed, his breath shaking ever so slightly. "Itwasapheromonebomb." He said it so quickly and quietly.

"...What?"

"It was a pheromone bomb. Just leave me here so I can wait it out. This is so shocking humiliating- I," he sighed again. "Don't make me explain any further."

You blushed, not sure what to say. But you couldn't leave him like that, half-buried and vulnerable. "Can I at least help you up…? I promise I won't make fun of you. I just can't leave you defenseless like this."

He seethed for a moment, considering your offer. "...Fine. Grab this stupid sheetrock."

You did so, lifting it off of him with some effort. He did his best to stand up quickly. Despite his best, though, you could see the source of his embarrassment. He had a rock hard erection, and a particularly desperate one, by the looks of it. It laid upward, reaching towards his abdomen and pushing up against the tight fabric of his suit, straining. The size of him was nothing short of impressive.

You turned your gaze pointedly towards the ground as he moved away from the pile of rubble. Don't react don't react don't react. Could you pretend like you didn't notice? Even though not noticing was impossible, even from a single glance? You swallowed a lump in your throat, your head swimming with unprofessional thoughts.

Miguel turned from you, crouching down, hissing out a slow breath. "Fuck, it's getting worse," he whispered to himself, his body starting to tremble.

You took a step closer, reaching a hand out to his shoulder.

"Your proximity isn't… isn't helping." He admitted without turning around.

You stopped, silently moving your hand away from him. Touching him would surely make things harder.

"Miguel, I don't think waiting it out is an option for you. You just said it was getting worse."

He swore under his breath to himself. "I didn't mean for you to hear that. This is- shock it- this is completely foreign to me. Never been hit by anything like this before, it's s-so intense."

You winced at that, you'd never heard his voice so pained. But, what was the other option? You shivered just to think about it, your body reacting in ways that surprised you. How could you possibly propose helping him without making him think less of you? Would he even want help from you? Across from you, he was in turmoil, on his hands and knees trying desperately to control his breathing.

“Miguel… how can I help you?” It was a foolish question, a loaded question.

“You know the answer,” he replied from over his shoulder, his tone cold. He cried out again. “I- I can’t- can’t do that to you.”

“What if I’m offering?” You asked, a little too quickly, pushing down your fear and embarrassment for even thinking such things.

He turned further to meet your eyes, though you still couldn’t see his from behind the mask. You didn’t even need to see his eyes, his body language was communicating perfectly on their behalf. His muscles were pent up and quivering. Every breath rocked his massive shoulders. “Why?”

You didn’t think he’d ask that question. You searched your brain for an answer. “Because it isn’t your fault. And I respect you enough that this won’t change my mind.”

His thoughts seemed to be diverting to his baser instincts, his voice becoming a growl. “Need you… to be sure. Don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“I’m sure,” you said.

In no time at all, he pounced, bringing you to the ground. He was on top of you, his taloned fingers caging in your wrists against the cracked concrete of the floor, your arms above your head. You landed with your legs apart and with him between them, his hips desperately close to yours. Your eyes widened at his feral energy, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. He brought his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling. His exhale was shaky. “You smell so good… always smelled so good.”

Your body grew hot upon hearing that. Always? Had he thought about you in that way before? You smiled to yourself as he nuzzled the nose of his masked face into your neck, his hot breath coming through and ghosting over your skin. You could feel his huge frame shaking around you. He brought his hips down to your pelvis, seemingly being as cautious as possible as he began to grind his hardened length against you. His breath quickened at the contact, and he met you again with fervor, stimulating himself on you. His cock was unbelievably hard and hot, the temperature of him coming through both of your suits to meet your skin and overwhelm you. The feeling of him against you was sending shivers down your spine, the pleasant pressure made even sweeter by the promise of more to come. He positioned himself on top of you in such a way that each rhythmic, grinding rock found your clit and teased it with clothed contact.

You moaned lightly, the sound of it causing him to growl into your neck. You lifted your hips up, meeting him with the same tempo so he could grind into you more thoroughly, your bodies now writhing in tandem. His heavy breathing became panting. "Need to… need to touch you." He picked up his head and released your wrists, one hand steadying himself on the concrete, the other reaching down eagerly.

You got the memo, quickly slipping the pants of your suit down and throwing them aside so he wouldn't rip them off for you. You had at least enough hindsight to know you couldn't go back to HQ looking so disheveled. He dismissed the gloves of his suit and retracted his talons as his fingers found you immediately, honing in on the wet heat of your sex. Two plunged inside as he loomed above you, his muscles shaking again as he wet his fingers with your arousal. You shook right alongside him, your reaction bodily, as your back arched and your legs closed instinctively to hold his hand in place and not let him go. His fingers hooked inside of you, already relentless.

"Soaked," he whispered, almost to himself. The word resonated with a deep, animalistic hunger. Without removing his fingers from your warmth, he sat back on his knees and used his free hand to pry your legs open. "Need to see," he said. He watched the length of his fingers disappear over and over. The large hand that kept your legs wide was squeezing the soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he seemed fixated on the way it was yielding to his rough touches. Nearly everyone was small compared to Miguel, but you… you were different. He had his hands on you, inside of you, the comparison was tangible. You were small, soft, and his. His mind swam with how he would take you, how he would sheath himself inside of you until he bottomed out, how he would desperately fill you with his hot cum and hold your hips up to keep any precious drops from leaking out. It took everything in him to not reach down and start rubbing his impatient cock through his suit, but his fevered brain convinced him to keep his free hand on your leg so he could watch you fall apart from his fingers alone.

He was delirious as your walls started to spasm around his fingers, white hot pleasure pooling in your core, threatening to overflow as he kept up his efforts. The constriction of your muscles bolstered him, and he began to go faster and harder, starting to overstimulate you. You threw your head back, hands wildly trying to grasp at something on the concrete floor but coming up short. He removed his hand from your throbbing sex to start teasing your clit with abandon, and you moaned as your body lifted up off the floor.

"H-holy shit, Miguel," you gasped out. "It's- it's so much."

His hand moved so fast against your swollen clit that you could hardly think. The feeling was electric, and your orgasm was dangerously close. Your legs started to shake and tried to close around him again, but he kept them forced open as he intently watched, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. You came and it utterly racked you, your body shuddering as you cried out, hot liquid spewing from you and drenching Miguel's hand and forearm. You squirted on him, because of him. You thought you should be embarrassed, but he gave you no opportunity.

As your head just started to clear, he recalled his mask into the neck of his suit. You quietly gasped at unexpectedly seeing his face. So strong, angular, and handsome. His red eyes looked wild, his mouth was open, his fangs fully extended. He studied his hand, turning it over so the mess you made could catch the light. As it started to dry down on him, he brought the two fingers that had been inside of you up to his mouth, and he licked them both clean. You gaped at him, almost fully unable to process what was happening.

When he was finished, he turned his gaze from his fingers and back onto you, as you sat up on your elbows to watch him. You saw that his cock was still as hard as ever, still pushing to break free. As if reading your mind, he recalled that part of his suit too as he grabbed your legs and yanked you toward him. He rested his cock over your abdomen, once again reveling in just how much bigger than you he was. The hot weight of his manhood on your skin set you ablaze once more and you eagerly awaited him. He thrusted but without penetrating you, sliding himself over you and wetting his cock on your cum. His exhales quaked with anticipation until he could wait no longer. Even on his knees, he towered over you, and so he needed to tilt your hips up further so your entrance could meet the head of his leaking cock. He shifted his grip to your waist, holding firm as you steadied yourself on your elbows and looked to him with bated breath.

He slowly pushed his hips into you, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. The steady penetration had you reeling. You needed to feel him, all of him. Every inch, all at once. It felt like it took ages for him to finally reach the hilt, but when he did, he waited inside of you for a brief, merciful moment. You basked in the feeling of being so full, so complete. He began to pull himself out of you, leaving you cold and empty for a split second until he slammed his entire length back into you, repeating and repeating at an unwavering pace.

Each powerful thrust reached so deep inside of you that it was nearly painful. Immediately, the head of his cock found your cervix and was hitting it with each hard pump that Miguel delivered. Your eyelids grew heavy as your eyes began to roll back towards your skull. His onslaught was so thorough, every smack of his hips against your pelvis reverberating through every inch of your body. The overstimulation of when he fingerfucked you had carried over, and you were already close to losing control all over again. He felt it too, as he growled in response to your pulsating walls.

"This cunt…." He snarled through his fangs. "This cunt is mine."

"Yours," you moaned, meeting his words a little too quickly.

"Going to mark you… so everyone knows."

"Mark me, Miguel." You agreed, not quite realizing what he meant. He started to lay you down onto the ground without removing himself from you, continuing to fuck you in missionary as he brought his face down to the crook of your neck. Your pulse quickened with excitement. He opened his mouth, his breath making your skin somehow even warmer. You wished that you could've seen the flash of his fangs before what came next.

He bit down on you, hard, and you could feel the course of his venom like molten lava through your veins. When the searing heat reached its crest, a soothing wash of warmth followed in its wake, leaving your muscles loosened and relaxed. Blood started to drip down your shoulder, the wet trickle quickly cooling as it made contact with the atmosphere. Miguel stayed latched to you as his tongue met your skin, lapping at the red stream, determined to consume it all.

You submitted to him fully, allowing him to position you how he saw fit so he could fulfill his feral need. His strong hands snaked around your torso to your back, lifting you up with him as he rocked back onto his knees. He helped you to swing your legs around his slim waist and to drape your arms over his huge shoulders. You let your face settle against his neck, the clean musky smell of him overwhelming your senses. His hands found your hips and he effortlessly lifted you up and down on his cock, fucking himself with your pussy like you weighed nothing at all. You moaned into him as you clenched around his cock, your limp body succumbing to the overpowering feeling of him. You started to shudder as your orgasm claimed you with a white-knuckled grip. You whined into Miguel's neck as it hit you with shock after shock, your vision going spotty while your cunt tightened around him.

He couldn't hold it any longer, and his cock jerked inside of you as he came. You were still getting hit with aftershocks of your own climax, your muscles bearing down to milk every drop of cum that he filled you with. He held you closer and he thrusted himself as far into you as he possibly could, instinctively trying to make sure as little seed would have the chance to leak out of you as possible.

Your muscle control started to slowly come back to you as you and Miguel were chest-to-chest, both of you sweating and heaving. You weakly raised your arms so your hands could tangle with the hair at the nape of his neck. You lingered there for a bit, his strong arms holding you in the place as you played with soft locks of chocolate hair. You finally leaned back to see clarity slowly returning to Miguel's expression, and he looked utterly mortified. He held your gaze as he turned red, removing one hand from your body so he could cover his face.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "What the shock came over me?"

You were struck with sudden fear. "Do you… not remember?" The fact that he was still buried inside you should've been a dead giveaway.

"No, I do," he said, nervously. "I remember getting hit with that stupid bomb, and you helping me, then me wanting to split you in half."

You couldn't help but giggle at that.

"I tried to make sure I wasn't too rough with you. I was still in there, the whole time," he said, taking his hand away from his face to smooth your hair. He stopped when he reached your neck, seeing the bite marks he left. "Guess I didn't do all that well, did I?"

"It's fine. I can take it."

"Clearly," he said, raising his eyebrows, mildly impressed. "Thank you. I… don't know what I would have gone through if you hadn't been so… generous. But… for God’s sake, let’s not go around telling people what happened. We have reputations.”

You agreed, the secret safe between the two of you, the puncture wounds on your neck a silent souvenir.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #smut #my writing #not beta read #this one was for me tbqh #i didn't really know how to end it so pls be nice to me #but dear god read the warnings on this one #also another sleep token reference? on my fics?? it's more likely than you think #im nervous to post this one ahhhhhhh

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luxaofhesperides · 29 days

Note

Final hour Ghostlights request! Soulmate AU where when your soul mate dies your soul mark expands. Duke was really heartbroken at first but now his soul mark makes it really difficult to keep his secret identity hidden because he is covered in a map of the cosmos. He has to use his shadow powers almost constantly to keep all the stars hidden! And and maybe they light up like actual stars when he uses his light powers.

He meets Danny at orientation or something at GU and they brush against each other and he just lights up like a supernova, all his stars literally blazing and he's just like "YOU!" Both excited and also OH MY GOD YOU ASSHOLE.

....I rambled a bit here I'm so sorry.

The thing about soulmates is that you don’t really know who they are until they die. And even then, most people never know who their soulmate was, only that they outlived them.

Duke became one of those people when he was thirteen.

He didn’t even notice until he went to change and saw the watercolor swirl of nebula spill out from over his heart.

One moment, he was tired and angry, ready to sneak out of his latest foster home to search for his parents and do all the things adults have failed to do. The next, he’s collapsed on his knees, shaking, unable to breathe as he tries to rip his soulmark off of his skin. He couldn’t think past the shock and horror of realizing that his soulmate is dead and Duke didn’t even know until that moment.

They’ll never get to meet.

Duke had never felt so alone before.

He spent the next few days in shock, his mind a mess of static, unable to focus. He hid away in his room, buried under the covers, and his foster parents were understanding when he whispered my soulmate’s dead. They called him out of school and brought him food and water throughout the day, gentle encouraging him to eat something every few hours.

But disaster waits for no one, and Batman was gone, so Duke pulled himself out of his misery and hit the streets again.

So his soulmate’s dead. So his parents are gone. So Gotham’s falling apart.

No one’s doing anything about it, so it’s up to Duke to start fixing things. It’s not like he had much to lose.

Soulmates become a bit of a taboo topic to him, after that. He speaks of them to no one, avoids all conversation about them, refuses to stay when people talk about soulmarks. He tries not to look at his soulmark at all.

And then he takes a hit to the chest and patches himself up with shaking hands. For the first time in months he looks at his soulmark again and…

Did it… grow?

Duke prods it gently, letting out a hiss when his bruised ribs protest at the movement. He remembers the mark being right over his heart.

But looking at it now, it branches out, swirls of galaxy and constellations reaching out along his ribcage.

Panicked, Duke grabs for his computer and looks up soulmark growth and webmd soulmark abnormalities.

Neither give him any answers, though WebMD helpfully suggests skin cancer.

“I’m gonna ignore this,” Duke decides, and pulls on a shirt and goes to sleep. The less he thinks about his dead soulmate, the better.

Time passes and Duke goes from being a Robin to being the Signal, a legitimate vigilante working with Batman. It’s nice to see Gotham start to settle, things falling into place. For once, nothing is awful; Duke’s found his parents and doctors are looking for a cure for long-term exposure to Joker Gas, Batman’s taking care of Gotham with a number of other Bats, Duke is getting used to his powers and slowly making a good name for himself out on the streets.

He keeps his focus on protecting people and getting stronger, helping solve cases with the other Bats. No one mentions soulmates, so he keeps his ever expanding soulmark a secret.

The only problem is that it keeps growing and Duke is concerned that it’ll move to a place he can’t easily hide under his clothes.

And he does need to hide them. The more his soulmark has grown, the more obvious it is, especially when he uses his powers and the stars on his skin light up like the Fourth of July. He knows it’s abnormal, but it’s also his soulmark and he doesn’t want anyone, least of all Bruce, poking around trying to study it.

The grief still lingers when he looks at it, but Duke has long since grown used to it. If anything, these days he’s quietly annoyed by how far the galaxies on his skin spread out, forcing him to take tank tops and shorts out of his wardrobe.

There’s also the tentative hope that maybe his soulmate is immortal and keeps coming back to life after they die. And they must also have terrible luck, because they just keep on dying.

Case in point: his soulmark flares and spills out onto his shoulder and wraps around his bicep. It’s not the first time he’s seen it move, but it still startles him.

“Are you serious,” Duke mutters to himself, pulling at his sleeve to adjust it and hopefully hide his soulmark. The starts are bright against his skin, and while sometimes he likes to trace them with his finger, now is not one of those times.

As pretty as it is, his soulmark is also very obvious and will cause people to realize his identity if they ever catch a glimpse of it while he’s out as Signal.

He sighs. There’s no choice but to live out the rest of his life in hoodies and sweatshirts.

As if to spite him, his soulmark grows once more.

Did his soulmate just die twice in the span of five minutes? That’s concerning.

He wishes he could meet them just so he can shake some sense into them. Maybe tell them to stop dying since it’s stressing him out so much. Maybe stick by their side to make sure they never have to die again. He’s honestly not sure what he’d do if he ever meets his soulmate, but he has to do something. This has gotten out of hand.

At least seeing his soulmark grow doesn’t hurt as much as it did a few years ago.

Lazily, he pulls at the light around him to hide the new portions of the soulmark on his arm from sight. It takes some focus, but he can hold it up long enough for him to grab a snack from the kitchen and retreat up to his room without being questioned by anyone. He could probably even keep this shirt on for the college orientation he needs to attend later in the day if the light works well enough to keep his secrets hidden.

He’s expecting Alfred in the kitchen when he arrives, but is greeted by Dick clapping a hand on his shoulder, right where his soulmark has claimed space. Duke falters and works to keep the light from fracturing as he returns Dick’s grin.

“Hey man,” he says, “What are you doing here? I thought you were out until Friday.”

“And miss a chance to hang out with you? No way. Besides, I wanted to give you a ride to your orientation.”

“You don’t have to,” Duke starts, only for Dick to cut him off.

“I’m going to,” he says, as if it’s a threat. “It’s been too long since we get to spend time together without a mask on. Are you really going to deprive me of this?”

Duke shakes off Dick’s hand from his shoulder, walking towards the pantry to find a small snack. “I guess not. It’s going to be pretty boring for you, though. I’m just going to listen to people talk about what college is like for a few hours.”

“We could always just walk around campus afterwards. I haven’t seen it since it was rebuilt after the last time Freeze attacked it.”

“Sure, that sounds fun. Thanks for offering to drive me.” Duke pulls out a box of Poptarts hidden behind stacks of pasta boxes and pulls out a pack for himself. He opens it and isn’t at all surprised when Dick steals one right out of his hands.

“Meet me out front in an hour then.”

And with that, Dick leaves, his stolen Poptart in hand, and Duke is left to shake his head and shove the Poptart box back into its hiding place. He heads off to eat his own snack, making sure no one is in the hallway as he lets go of his hold on the light. Already he can feel a migraine building with the immense focus he had to use to make sure nothing looked out of place.

At least Dick didn’t notice anything was off. If he can fool Dick, he can fool anyone.

Still, just to be safe, Duke changes into something with longer sleeves before he leaves and hops into the car with Dick.

The drive goes quickly to the tunes of ABBA, both of them singing along as they head for the GCU campus. Parking is a bit tricky, but they manage to find a spot a street away and walk towards the student union, where tables are laid out for incoming freshmen to sign in and grab a folder filled with papers meant to help them.

He waves to Dick and heads in once he gets his folder, and grabs a seat in the auditorium that’s close to a fire exit.

It takes another twenty minutes for the presentations to start. The lights dim and Duke panics for a brief moment before drawing the shadows over himself lightly to hide the soft glow of the star etched onto his skin.

They start with introductions, bringing in advisors, professors, and student ambassadors. Most of it is basic information that Duke already knows, so he zones out and plays with some shadows at his feet, where no one can see the way he twists shadows together like some dark magic form of finger knitting.

For the next hour, Duke halfheartedly listens to people talk about preparing for classes and keeping on top of schoolwork and learning how to ask for help. He’s saved enough college students that he knows the gist of things, and the orientation really doesn’t give him anything helpful.

He probably could have skipped, but he wanted a normal college experience.

He should have known that normal means boring as hell.

As soon as the presentation ends, an advisor encourages everyone to follow the schedule tucked into their folder to give them a half day modeled after a typical student’s schedule. Of course, all the classes are nonsense just to fill up their time, made to help freshmen coming into the college by covering topics such as how to write an email and an introduction to majors and minors.

Duke already declared himself as a Human Services major, his first step into becoming a social worker like his mom was.

Also he totally knows how to write an email, what are these advisors on about? Do they really think people his age can’t write emails?

Yeah, he’s ditching. The main presentation is really the only part that matters in the orientation. He’s not walking out on anything he needs.

Duke files out after the rest of the crowd, carefully letting the shadows slip off of him once he’s outside again. Instead of finding the first ‘class’ he’s supposed to go to in the Modern Languages building, he wanders off to find a quiet place he can sit down and wait until Dick finds him.

Tucked away towards the back half of the campus is a small nook full of trees, bushes, and benches. Judging by the amount of cigarette butts left in the single trash can there, it’s a popular smoking spot.

No one’s there, so the air is clean and free of smoke, so Duke heads in, hoping to sit down.

Someone else apparently has the same idea. He hops down from one of the concrete planters that’s keeping a bush contained and nearly falls on Duke.

They both shout in surprise, then Duke is moving without thinking, reaching out to steady the startled looking guy who accidentally jumped down in front of him.

Duke only has time to take note of how blue his eyes are before his hands wrap around the guy’s wrist and Duke feels his soulmark flare with warmth.

In the shade of the trees, the glow of each star on his skin is obvious. It’s visible even through the fabric of his shirt. His soulmark, at this point in his life, stretches across his chest, his ribs, his back, and now his shoulders and upper arms. All the stars in that watercolor galaxy are shining brightly as if the night sky has been draped across his body.

Soulmarks only react like that for one reason.

“You!” Duke shouts at his soulmate, both elated to see that he’s alive and annoyed that he made Duke’s soulmark so large. “Stop dying! Do you have any idea how much stress you’ve caused me?!”

“Oh my god,” the guy says faintly, eyes fixed on Duke’s chest where his soulmark originally rested, shining brighter and bigger than any other star, as if he’s tucked a sun into his heart. “Oh my god,” he says again, with more feeling.

“I’m so happy you’re alive, but please stop dying. It’s bad for my health.”

“I think I need to sit down?”

He does look very pale and faint. Duke tightens his grip on his soulmate’s arms and guides him to a bench, gently sitting him down.

“You’re not about to die, right?” Duke asks. “I don’t think my heart could take it if meeting me killed you somehow.”

“No, no,” his soulmate manages to say, “I’m not going to die. Um. Wow. I didn’t know my soulmark would do that? Sorry.”

“Well, it’s not like you had any way of knowing. It’s all good, man. Just please stop dying.”

His soulmate winces. “Yeah, that’s not gonna be possible. Sorry. Again.”

What does that mean, though? What does it all mean?

“Can I maybe get an explanation as to why you have to die again.”

“Mmmmm no. We just met and it’s kinda personal so. No.”

“Dude.”

Duke’s soulmate shrugs helplessly. “It really is personal! I know your my soulmate and all, so I’ll probably tell you one day, but right now I don’t even know your name.”

Oh shit. He’s right. Introductions completely slipped his mind, too busy reeling over the fact that his soulmate is here and alive. Which, honestly, would be enough to throw anyone off balance.

“Shoot,” Duke says. “Sorry. You just really caught me off guard. Hi, I’m Duke, I promise I’m more put together than that.”

“Hi Duke, I’m Danny, and I’ve apparently been traumatizing you for the past few years by making you think I keep dying.”

“Well. At least we’re thrown head first into the crazy. Best way to know if we’re be a good match.”

“You sure you can handle this? You seemed pretty frazzled a second ago.”

Duke flusters and lightly whacks Danny’s shoulder. “That’s normal! Anyone would do the same when meeting their soulmate for the first time!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughs. “This is a totally weird request and you can absolutely say no, but… can I see?” He presses a hand against one of the glowing stars beneath this collar bone, looking up at Duke with wide, hopeful blue eyes, and Duke finds it so cute that he’s willing to do anything Danny wants.

“Here,” he says as an answer, pulling the collar of his shirt down a bit to reveal the nebula spilling onto his shoulder.

“Oh,” Danny breathes, tracing a light finger against it. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m guessing you like space?”

“Love it. I wanted to be an astronaut, but uh…. It’s never going to happen. Health problems, you know?”

“Well, I know it’s not the same, but I hope the stars you put on my body will be a good enough replacement.”

Danny cheeks turn red and he turns away, flustered. “Don’t smooth talk me right now, I’m not ready for it,” he mutters, bringing up a hand to try to hide his expression.

“Sorry, sorry,” Duke laughs, “I’ll try to keep the flirting down to a minimum. It’s just really great to finally meet you. And I’ve been wondering, what’s your soulmark look like?”

“Oh, well…” Danny fiddles with the long sleeve of his shirt. “I had a pretty bad accident years ago that kinda affected how my soulmark looks. So if it looks weird, that’s why, okay?” He takes a deep breath, then pushes up his sleeve, holding his wrist out to Duke.

The first thing Duke notices is the soft yellow glow, Signal yellow to be precise, running down his arm as if sunlight fills his veins. Then he sees Danny’s soulmark, a sun with rays that wrap around his wrist. And running through his soulmark are Lichtenberg scars, glowing yellow as if stealing the color from his soulmark.

“Guess we both got super obvious soulmarks, huh? At least we kinda match, that way.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Danny agrees.

“Man, what a day.”

Danny looks more relaxed with him now. It’s much better than the startled, tense version of him that first sat down on the bench. Duke hopes he chooses to stay with him; he doesn’t admit this often, willingly, or to other people, but he’s a romantic at heart and has always wanted to live a happy life with his soulmate. It’s still far off in the future, but he hopes Danny feels the same way.

“So, are you ditching the orientation classes to?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m going. I mean, a class on how to send emails? They can’t be serious.”

“I know, right?! I saw that and thought I was being pranked. I mean, we’re going into college. We better know how to send an email by now.”

“Since we’re both free for now, wanna grab lunch with me? It can be our first date, if you want.”

“I’d love to! And you can show me around Gotham a bit. I’m coming here for college, but I haven’t really seen the city yet. It’d be nice to explore it with someone who knows where things are.”

“Are you free for the rest of the day? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you want.”

Danny smiles, radiant. “I am. I’m in your hands for the rest of the day.”

“Cool,” Duke says, trying not to think too much on that wording. It’s very suggestive, very flirtatious, and he’s looking forward to getting to know Danny more so he can start properly flirting. “Lemme just let my brother know to not wait up for me.”

He pulls out his phone and sends Dick a text that just reads: met my soulmate. going on a date now. i’ll see u back at the manor!

Then he puts his phone on silent and tucks it back into his pocket. He’ll tell Dick all about this later; for now, all his attention is on Danny.

Soulmates get priority, even stressful ones that give him the largest soulmark he’s ever seen.

And right now, he’s on a mission to find the best lunch spot to take his soulmate to for their first date. Everything else can come later; for now, he’s going to enjoy the time he gets to spend with Danny.

He hopes they’ve got a future together as bright as the stars in his soulmark.

Despite it all, Duke is sure they’re going to be alright.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #dannys obv not going to be able to keep his identity as phantom hidden for long in gotham #esp since he wants to protect people and transforms to do that #and one of those times will be in front of duke to protect him from some goons trying to kidnap duke for his connections to the wayne famil #duke ends up using his powers as well leading to an identity reveal on both ends #and then the dots connect and duke yells THIS IS WHY U KEEP DYING and danny has to sheepishly apologize for how large dukes soulmark is #he does kiss all the new stars that show up on dukes skin tho so hes forgiven very quickly #(not that duke was ever mad. he's just worried)#thanks for the prompt!!

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jellieland · 5 months

Text

"You know," says Jimmy smugly, "I think second is the best spot to die in, actually."

"Really," says Mumbo, exasperated.

"Yes, I don't know what you're so happy about," says Lizzie. "You barely lasted ten minutes more than me."

"Doesn't matter. Not out first, baby!" He crows, triumphant, to the neverending void.

"And you killed me last session!"

"...Yes, I, uh, I'm sorry about that one. Sort of. Mostly," he says, momentarily cowed.

"I can't believe you people," says Lizzie. "They didn't have a funeral for me. I died first, and you got one, and they didn't even have a funeral for me!" She sounds indignant, but a look of genuine hurt crosses her face for a moment.

"I'm going to be honest, Lizzie," says Mumbo awkwardly. "I think they had bigger things to worry about. I- I think Joel was quite sad about it, though. If that helps?"

"I suppose it's better than nothing." She crosses her arms.

"But- wait, hang on. Jimmy?" says Mumbo abruptly. "Did you say you wanted to go out second?"

"No!" Jimmy protests. "I just think if you have to go out, then second is sort of ideal, really, if you think about it!"

"No!" says Mumbo, indignant. "No, surely third is better, actually! And to extend that logic, fourth would be better as well, and fifth, and- well, you get the idea. Anyway, my point is that I did better than both of you!"

"Hey, don't bring me into this!" says Lizzie.

"Anyway, you're wrong," says Jimmy, back to being smug again.

There is a short silence.

"You, uh. You gonna elaborate on that one, buddy?" asks Mumbo.

"Well," says Jimmy. "Obviously going out first is terrible. Would not recommend. I don't know why anyone would do it, honestly, I know I would never-"

"You're going on my list," says Lizzie, cheerfully.

"Wait wait wait, no, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I really am!"

"Hmm." Lizzie narrows her eyes. "Acceptable. For now."

A few moments pass.

"You may continue," she says.

"Right," says Jimmy. "What was I saying?"

"You were being wrong about how the ranking in this game works," offers Mumbo.

"No I wasn't!" says Jimmy. "Just, let me explain. Now, you obviously don't want to go out first, sorry Lizzie, but it's true."

"I will concede that point," says Lizzie. "It wasn't great."

"But—have you seen how they get?"

"How they... get?" Mumbo frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The people who don't die."

"I- now, I don't know if you remember this," says Mumbo, "But third is a new record for me, so I really don't know how you expect me to know that."

"Anyway," interjects Lizzie, "Mumbo and I have only done this once before. I mean, I guess people started losing it a bit once you two died, but it wasn't that much different to how it already had been. Although I wasn't around for that long at that point."

"Yes, but, it-" Jimmy frowns. "I haven't seen much of it either. But there's something- I don't know how to explain what I mean. Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's stuff with Grian, Scott, Pearl."

He stops, sighs. Looks at the ground.

"Martyn's going to be alone, now," he says.

"Well," says Lizzie, a little acerbic. "You don't have to have people die for that to happen, you know."

Jimmy gives her a look that is a combination of sheepishness and genuine regret. "Ah. Yeah. I guess not."

"So you're right," says Lizzie. "I don't know what you mean."

"...I did feel bad," says Jimmy, quietly.

"You... did?" asks Lizzie. "What about?"

Jimmy looks at her, then off to the side. "...When I killed you."

"Oh."

"I really didn't mean to," he says. "I felt bad. It wasn't satisfying. It was just... a person I cared about. Dead. Because of me. Because I acted without thinking, because I wasn't paying attention."

"...Oh." says Lizzie, softly.

"And that was when I knew you would come back," says Jimmy.

Lizzie and Mumbo exchange glances, unsure.

"I'm good with second," says Jimmy. "I think it's the closest you can get to winning, actually."

They stand there, silent, for some time.

"Well," says Mumbo eventually. "I still feel like third is a bit better, though."

"Mumbo!" cries Jimmy.

"Mumbo, come on, we were just having a moment!" says Lizzie.

"Yes well, look, I really need this, guys," says Mumbo, shifting his weight from side to side. "I don't know if you know this, but I've had a really bad day. It was just terrible!"

"I think we've all had pretty bad days, Mumbo!" says Lizzie, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we all died!"

"Yes, I- I had picked up on that, actually."

"I don't know," says Jimmy. "My day was great!"

They keep talking, and bickering, and the emptiness stretches off into the distance.

It's nice, not to have to be there alone.

#secret life spoilers #secret life smp #jimmy solidarity #i think it's really interesting how both lizzie and mumbo have only been in one other season and died quite early on #I've just been thinking about those three #together after the end.#my writing

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