#A bit to vibrant a bit to dull au

[lartiel]

@tmntaucompetition okay so I didn’t know this but apparently I have to make ‘propaganda’ or smth for votes? Ummm, I fixed the previous art-

VOTE:

A BIT TO VIBRANT, A BIT TO DULL

Bleh, I’ll make cover art later but I’ve spent to long on these already-

[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.

[help-me-im-in-the-fandom]

Dc x Dp

Soulmate and Wing Au Prompt

Everyone has a Soulmate Mark, when you are born it is in a bright color outline, just the simple shape.

Then, when you meet your Soulmate it becomes colored in, becoming a beautiful picture of something that shows you and your soulmates love for each other.

Jason Todd is born with folded wings across his back in acidic green, and when he becomes Robin he knows the wings symbolize that part of him, showing that he had always been meant to fly.

Then when Jason is fifteen, his back goes ice cold in the middle of the day, like someone dumped a bucket of water across him. His outline is no longer vibrant green of life and energy, but the soulless black of a dead soulmate.

It doesn’t take to long for him to go off the deep end and start taking risks as Robin, and even as Bruce yells at him for hurting someone to much and one guy getting in accident, Well when Jason learns about his mother, his true mother.

Well Jason Todd welcomes that blinking countdown inside the warehouse Joker has left him in.

Then he wakes up and all he can see and feel is green rage and pain.

It takes him a long time to notice the changes to his soulmate mark, but when he does it makes his pain all the more real.

Where had once been an outline when he died, was now dull color across his skin, not quite black and white, but washed out color.

Black wings, with red-orange shoulders, the wings of Red shouldered Blackbird.

Jason tries to ignore it, but the knowledge that he had met his Soulmate in Heaven or Hell, despite not being able to remember it, soothes his broken heart just a little bit.

Meanwhile, Danny Phantom searches desperately for his missing Soulmate, across his back large white and green wings beating desperately.

This started because I wanted to Draw Dead On Main with wings, and then, it kind of drew me in to creating a tiny story for it, so here you go, anyone want to write a fic for me??

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋.

DAY THREE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: priest au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.”

pairing: priest!ezra x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, dark content

summary: after a breakup, you find solaca at the local church. there, you meet father ezra.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, brief mention of reader going through a breakup, reader having a brief anxiety attack, reader having confidence issues, loneliness, messy blowjob, degradation, leg humping, dirty talk, facial, power imbalance, dumbification if you squint, use of whore, religious themes, this is written for horny purposes only, priest kink, a lot of 'yes father's and 'forgive me father's

Comfort is what leads you to your local church.  

You wouldn’t exactly say you’re a believer, but coming to the church and sticking wishing candles into the sandy surface was one of your finest memories from your childhood. You enjoy the chocolaty smell of the wooden benches, the stained large panes of the windows that cast vibrant rainbows upon the polished floor when the sun hits them just right. 

When you sit on the bench, surrounded by a calm dimness and silent prayers, you feel contented, like the world outside doesn’t exist. 

You feel lonely out there in the modern world, especially after your breakup, which was the turning point that led you to the adorned wooden doors of the church in the first place. It wasn’t a messy breakup, still, it left you in shambles. He’d moved on so quickly. Just picking up his clothes and throwing them into the bag before he left. It broke your heart if you’re being honest. He was never overly affectionate or necessarily cared about the things you cared about, but it was better than being utterly alone. 

Just a little bit of comfort. That’s all you want. Just a sense of belonging. 

Here at the church, the sense of commune affects you, even if you’re not exactly a part of it. 

Sitting at the edge of the bench, you look up. The church is empty today due to the heavy downpour, there’s only one more person other than you. They’re busy in prayer so you don’t stare at them for long, not wanting to be rude. 

Your eyes move away from the person, they linger on the confessionals. You always found the idea appealing in some twisted way. As if asking for forgiveness from some random man will solve all your problems. You never went it, always feeling too paranoid that someone might hear how stupid you sound. 

The person finishes their prayer, and as they walk down the middle, you notice it was a youngish man, his hair stuck to his forehead. His steps echo, a second later the sound of his departure rings dull against the cold walls. 

You rise slowly, eyes once again fixed on the booths. They’re barely noticeable thanks to how dimly lit the church is, and with no sun there’s little light to guide you. 

You’re not even sure a Father will assist you when you open the door to the small space. It creaks loudly and your skin crawls. You’re hesitant, yet you still climb inside and take a seat. It’s small, dark, and smells overwhelmingly of wood. It’s oddly comforting. 

You’re unsure what to do with yourself until you hear the door opening and closing from the other side of the booth. 

“Welcome. I am Father Ezra, and I am here to listen, guide, and offer you the grace of God's forgiveness. As sunlit moments blend with shadows, so too do our lives weave intricate tales of both frailty and strength. With open ears and an open heart, I beckon you to unburden your spirit. When you're ready, please share your thoughts, knowing that your words are heard in the spirit of compassion and understanding.” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of his voice. He doesn’t rush his speech, taking time as if every sentence is a story of its own. It’s so smooth, enticing, beckoning you to pour all the darkness that lingers around your heart. You’re surprised to find yourself wanting to hear more of that honey-dipped voice. 

Father Ezra, you’ve heard his name before and from afar, even laid eyes on him. You can barely remember what he looks like now though. You certainly never heard him during sermons, you would’ve definitely remembered his voice if you had. 

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when you hear a creak and a soft flutter of a robe. 

“Sorry,” you say, quick and silent. “This is my first time doing this and I didn’t really have a prepared thing in mind.” 

His soft chuckle echoes—god, why does he sound so good? 

“Sweet, lost, little bird, you do not need to rush it. You can start by introducing yourself. Tell me your name.” 

A shudder that starts from your toes claws all the way up to your spine. All he did was ask your name, yet, it feels like he’s asking for something drastic like your life. You swallow around the know in your throat, lowering your gaze even though there’s no one that can see you. 

You give him your name and something you can’t discern shifts in the air. 

“What a lovely name,” he hums. “Now tell me, what troubles you on this rainy day.” 

“Nothing specific,” a sigh parts your lips, and again, a creak comes through the other side. Your skin prickles. You can feel as if his eyes can see through the thin wall that separates you both. “I’m feeling a bit lonely. I—I went through a break up a couple of weeks ago and. . . I guess I can’t help but feel it’s my fault somehow.” 

You wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, you continue. 

“This might sound dumb—” 

“There is no such thing,” you can almost hear the smile in his voice. “There’s no shame in asking for guidance and forgiveness.” 

“There were these things. . . that he said about me. Things like I was too needy, too dependent, and too much overall. And I feel like it’s true because no one ever seems to stay with me,” you let out a bitter chuckle as tears begin to well in your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m like this, maybe—maybe God is punishing me for a sin I don’t know and i-if that’s the case, Father, I seek forgiveness.” 

A breath. A low, violent exhale of breath. Your eyes flit to the grille, a pair of plush lips now visible through the tightly made slats. 

“You ask for forgiveness, atonement, yet do you actually believe?” he coos, voice low. 

“I don’t,” you answer a bit too quickly and blood boils under your nails. “I–I mean I don’t know.” 

“How do you expect me to help when you doubt the lord’s existence, little one?” Despite the provocative question, you see the faint curve of his smile through the darkness. “Are you desperate?” 

“I didn’t mean to offend,” you say quietly. The rain pour had begun again, drowning out the rest of the sound. “I’ve been coming here ever since the breakup. I enjoy watching people pray and smile, looking comforted. I just thought that if I did this, that comfort would extend to me as well. I’m sorry.” 

“The comfort is fleeting when you don’t believe it to be true,” he murmurs, ignoring your apology. “If you seek guidance, I can help you understand better and maybe then you’ll receive the comfort and the forgiveness that you crave oh so deeply.”

There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that you decide to ignore. It feels only right when you had outwardly said that you didn’t believe in the man’s religion. 

With an open heart, you accept his offer of guidance. 

You visit his office almost every night. 

You found yourself enjoying the church even more after hours. Ezra became a friend, which didn’t surprise you because that man had an essence about him that would charm the pants off of any devil that he might encounter. You guys did bible studies together and talked about other religions as well, and what it means to understand the words inscribed and given to the people. It was interesting to listen to. He would even give you assignments sometimes, telling you to read a specific paper or book. It felt like being at school again. He’d given you something you thought you had lost forever; A sense of purpose. 

It didn’t hurt that he was a sight to look at. His dark brown eyes always held a certain mischief to them, lighting up in amusement whenever you said anything peculiar. 

You knew it was cliche to have a crush on a priest, yet here you were, wagging an imaginary tail whenever he praised you for doing a good job. 

But tonight is not one of those days you feel all giddy and excited to see him. You enter the wide halls of the church and take a sharp turn towards his office, all you sense is impending doom, your insides riddled with anxiety. You’re shaking, barely able to feel your legs as you walk. 

When you enter, his eyes look up from the papers that lay in front of him, his gaze momentarily dropping to where your dress ends, then back up. His brows furrowing instantly at your heavy breathing, “Little bird, what’s wrong?” 

“Everything!” you exclaim, heaving a breath. “Everything is wrong—I’m wrong—I—fuck—” 

Ezra clears his throat in warning, “Language,” he says with a click of his tongue. 

“Sorry, Father.” you look down in shame, your hands balled into tight fists as you fight the urge to pace around his office. “I just—” 

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you take a seat and tell me what happened?” he smiles kindly. “And maybe you can stop shaking while you’re at it.” 

You nod as you take a seat. Your heart continuously rams against your ribcage and you can barely breathe, your throat convulsing in agony. Ezra gestures to you to look at him. When you do, he takes a deep inhale, making a demonstration in showing how his chest expands and contracts, his hand following the movement as if on waves. 

You breathe with him, the oxygen that fills your lungs calming you. 

“Good,” he hums. “Now tell me what happened.” 

“I saw him today. My—My ex,” you shook your head, reliving the moment. “He’s already seeing someone, which is fine if he was just honest about it. It’s some girl from work, the same girl I asked him about when he moved out,” a hiccup parts your sentence and you continue, your eyes dropping away from Ezra’s. “I said ‘is it her, do you like someone else’ and he said no. He pretended not to recognize me, even though his girlfriend did. I could see it in her eyes but he just walked past me, like I never existed.” 

A sole tear trickles down your cheek and you wipe it away with your sleeve, sniffling. When you feel another, you repeat the motion, finding solace in the softness of the fabric. “I’m an idiot,” you say, still not looking at him. “What am I even doing here? I should try to face reality not escape it in some—some church.” 

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. The church had helped you when you needed it most, it had given you Ezra, most of all. But you couldn’t help the words, you’re angry. Furious. You feel invisible out there, but here, here people recognize you, and ask where you’ve been when you came back the other day. It’s good to know that if you disappear some people would wonder about you. 

Ezra’s voice rings in your ear, and without even understanding the words he’s saying, you’re looking up. 

“Let’s try something,” he says probably again. “Come here.” 

You’re slightly confused but obliged. He pushes his chair slightly back, making some room between him and the desk. Your eyes drop to the end of his robes, two shiny shoes peaking from underneath. 

“Get on your knees.” 

You snort, “Excuse me?” 

“It’s going to calm you,” he says. “Do you trust me?” 

Your lips part with a faint gasp, you don’t blink as your eyes search his. There’s a tranquility in his expression that makes your heart throb. “Of course, Father,” you get on your knees. 

“Good girl,” he pats his thigh. “Now lay your head.” 

You do so without question this time, appreciating the firmness of muscle under your head. A moment passes, awkwardness starting to settle in, then you feel his fingers touching the back of your neck and gradually they move up to your scalp. Humming a gentle melody, he starts to stroke your hair, massaging your head as he went along. A deep sigh comes from the depths of your lungs, your nerves humming, your rigid muscles finally relax. 

“You’ve been doing so well these past couple of weeks,” he says, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice. “You’ve been learning, little bird, but you still have much to learn. The church is part of the real world, you haven’t been doing nothing.” 

Listening to him so intently, he sends shivers down your spine, the thickness of arousal pooling between your legs. He drags blunt nails down your scalp and comes down to your nape to squeeze from both sides. You’re embarrassed of the moan that rattles your throat but he doesn’t seem to mind it. You lean closer, pressing your cheek further against his leg. 

“Isn’t this nice?” he asks without needing the answer. “You, my obedient girl, listening and eager to please. You’ll always feel like this when you’re with me. No anxiety, no need to compete and try to accomplish something when all you want to do is. . . relax. . .” 

His voice had dropped to a whisper, every word a gentle caress to your skin. Eyes fluttering close, you only focus on the ups and downs of his voice, your body reacting to every stop and turn. The fabric of your underwear dampens, your folds becoming slicker the more you inch towards him. You ache for your fingers—or better yet his cock—but he isn’t allowed to touch you is he? 

You try to remember the lessons in celibacy but can’t seem to remember any of them. 

Your tighs instinctively press together, the brief friction doing little in dousing the wildfires between your legs. You wiggle a bit closer, his voice nothing but a siren song now. 

Ezra notices the constant movement, his fingers slip under your chin, and drags your eyes up to face him. Your breath hitches. The faint moonlight that trickles through the windows behind him cast his face in complete shadow, his features hardening with darkness. He slips his foot between your legs, the floor creaking under the sole of his shoe, “Now, why can’t you stay still when I’m trying so hard to soothe you, little bird?” 

He lifts the point of his shoe, the leather pressing directly against your throbbing clit. A surprised whimper rips from your throat, your body shaking as he drags the leather tip down. Your insides clench with want, with a primal need that you can’t seem to understand. 

You’re haunted by his words and the darkness that lurks in his eyes. Despite yourself, you press yourself up against his leg like some animal. You can’t seem to stop staring at him. And by the way he pushes his shoe further into you, borderline on almost being painful, you don’t think he minds either. 

Your eyes flutter as he parts his robe, your gaze immediately drops to the outline of his cock that’s visible. Your mouth waters. 

“Worship me,” he unbuttons himself with expertise but leaves it at that. “Until I tell you to stop.”

His leg still between your legs, you pull out his cock. The tip is an angry shade of red, precum dotting at the tip, without much thought you lean over and dip your tongue, tasting him for the first time. The taste of him coats the inside of your mouth and you swallow greedily, the blood rush to your ears muffling his voice. 

“Such a sweet whore,” he hums. “You like sucking cock, don’t you?” 

Dragging your lips down the length of him, you answer with him between your lips, “Yes, Father.” 

“I really do enjoy it when you call me that,” his thumb touches your cheek as you finally take him between your lips, you allow out your cheeks and flatten your tongue against the underside of his cock. “All you needed was a little encouragement and now you’re the perfect hole for me. There’s nothing wrong with you, all you need is someone to take care of you.” 

You hum in approval around him, taking him deeper while grinding against his leg, your dress rides up your thighs, your underwear nearly sheer in color.   

“I can feel how wet you are. So needy,” he lays back in his chair and spreads his legs. “I want to feel every inch of your mouth. I said worship, if this is how you think that works you’re mistaken, dove.” 

Your stomach churns at that. You want to make him happy—you truly do. You part from him, strings of saliva following the frame of your lips as you bend down closer to the floor, feeling the full shape of his shoe. You look up to him, the heft of his cock laying directly in the middle of your face, the scent of sex and him clinging to your nose. Opening your mouth, you lick between his balls, taking one into your mouth, you swirl your tongue around it. His eyes roll in pleasure, a thick drop of precome dripping to your forehead. 

“That’s it,” he raps and guides you back up, lining the bulbous head of his cock against your lips. He pushes forward, cock filling your mouth then inching down your throat. Tears trickle down your cheeks, your throat convulsing as you try to accommodate to the width of him. You swallow and swallow, until your nose is buried into the dark curls that crown his length. You can barely breathe. “I knew you could take it all, little one. I know that mouth could do more than talk.” 

The heavy palm of his hand moves down your throat, he feels the shape of himself through the skin. His cock twitches when it feels his hand, straining your mouth further. 

He pulls out and you gasp for air, his grin is wide as he looks down at you. “I want to make a mess of that face,” with the rough pitch of his words, you roll your hips, your clit catches against his shoe and a loud moan spills from your damp lips. He clicks his tongue with annoyance. “Ask for forgiveness,” he growls, hand moving up and down his cock with hard strokes. 

“For what, Father?” your voice is barely above a whisper. And you’re not sure why you asked when you’re going to surrender to his wants regardless of what they are. 

“For being a whore,” he spits. “For talking about a past flame and for taking pleasure without permission.” 

He watches with heavy eyes as you straighten yourself, his cock aimed directly at your face. You watch him with parted lips. His nail gently traces the vein that curls around the length of him, slick sounds filling the normally silent office. He swipes a thumb over his head and thrusts into his fist. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” you begin. “It has been two weeks since my last confession. I have behaved like a whore, talked about another man in the presence of the clergy, and taken pleasure without permission. I come before you seeking God's forgiveness and guidance.” 

“Will you repeat your sins?” 

“No, Father. Not unless I have permission to do so.” 

His hand quickens, his grip tightening, “Do it then,” he snarls with a devilish smile. “Ask me permission to be a whore.” 

Instead of a verbal permission, you part your mouth wide and stick your tongue out. His eyes widen with shock momentarily before understanding. He seems pleased and in return, you feel genuine jot for finally doing something right. 

He grips your chin, pulling you away from his leg and directly between his thighs. It doesn’t take him long to go over the age—one, two more strokes and you feel the first string of white come spurting over your face. It drips down your forehead from your face. The sounds Ezra make are unhinged, his hips lifting from the seat as he moans openly into the air, defiling you and marking you as his. His seed feels heavy over your face and with your tongue, you catch a bit of it, moaning as you swallow. 

Ezra hunches over you and you feel his tongue on your cheek, taking himself into his mouth, he presses his tongue into your mouth, forcing more of himself inside of you. 

When he parts away, you’re dazed, all pretense of the life outside of this church gone. 

“My sweet bird, so dirty now,” he purrs, this time he collects more of himself over his fingers and stuffs it into your mouth. Your eyes rolling you swallow over and over. “What do you say?” he asks melodically. 

“Thank you, Father.” 

[starsofang]

Call of Duty || Coraline AU || Part 4

Running away to start a new chapter and escape the troubles of your past, you find yourself in a darker predicament than you had hoped for.

Coraline with a twist. And COD men. Obviously.

PT.1 / PT.2 / PT.3 / PT.5

You pinched the skin of your arm. Still, the warped version of your mother stood before you. You pinched again, harder, so hard you could feel the slight swell of blood vessels rush to the surface. And yet she wouldn’t disappear.

This wasn’t a dream, nor was it even a nightmare. It was reality hanging in front of you, dangling on a string, swaying, taunting. Everything inside of your stomach turned, and the only thing keeping you grounded was Si perched steady between your feet.

“I was wondering when you’d show up, dear,” your mother – other mother – chirped. “Oh! And you brought a friend.”

The last word seemed almost spiteful, a slight dose of venom leaking through. You nearly missed it, the way it dripped off of her tongue, but you noticed it. Too stunned to let it sink in, you opted to simply stare while Si seemed to have similar ideas.

“Don’t just stand there! I’m making your favorite – chocolate chip cookies. Always a simple girl, aren’t you?”

She knew your favorite cookies. She was standing in the warmly lit kitchen, smiling and whisking away at a mix of ingredients in a bowl. Even the kitchen was strange to see – clean, not a single speck of dust in sight. The colors seemed much more vibrant than the dull ones of your home beyond the door in the wall, but it didn’t help with the unease. If anything, the new lens being placed in front of your eyes to peer through felt like a trick.

“How did you know that?” you asked carefully, eyes flickering between her thin fingers wrapped around the handle of the whisk, to her perfectly straightened hair, not a single strand out of place. Her skin was a ghostly white, much like your real mother’s but her smile wasn’t crooked like hers always was. Her teeth were too straight and bright to be your real mother’s, too.

“I’m your mother, of course I know that! Silly girl.” She threw another radiant smile your way, and for a moment, it caused your chest to tighten. Despite the button eyes and perfectly straight lips, she looked just like your real mother. She was giving you a glimpse into a world of what life might’ve been like, had your mother been a loving and doting woman.

“You’re not my mother,” you corrected with a frown of disapproval.

“Right. I’m your better mother. After all, I’d never hit you.”

The statement was a slap in the face.

“Go on, sit down. I’ll pop these in the oven and we’ll talk! Oh, I really have been waiting for you!”

Your eyes glanced over at the dining room table. Chairs perfectly arranged, a fancy tablecloth lining the top of the table, intricate details sewed in to create a beautiful piece of fabric. It looked as if she had made it herself.

It felt as if you had no choice but to sit down, so you complied. Taking a cautious seat, remaining on the edge in case you had reason to bolt out of there and back in the security of your real home, you watched as she hummed to herself, placing a baking tray full of cookie dough into the oven.

Observing the kitchen a bit more, you noticed that there was no tickling of fur itching at your ankles. Peering down, Si was nowhere to be found, and the slightest bit of panic welled inside of your chest. It was as if somebody had grabbed hold of your heart and squeezed it, harder and harder until breathing proved to be a task.

Your dread was interrupted by the sound of a chair being pulled beside you, and when you looked up, you were greeted with a smiling face. It sent shivers down your spine, the way it seemed so… emotionless. The button eyes were unsettling to look at. It was like looking into a black hole, peering into nothingness.

Realistically, it was nothingness. It was empty and desolate, despite the way she smiled, how her cheeks puffed up from the curl of her lips, how her chest rose and fell as if she were breathing. You wondered what she was. You hadn’t a clue, and Si certainly couldn’t tell you. God, it was silly to even wish for a cat to be able to talk.

“I’m so happy you’re here, sweetheart. I’ve been preparing for a long time, and now that you’re here, we can finally catch up on lost time.”

Red alarms went off inside your mind, yet for a reason unknown to you, you found no purpose in wanting to run yet. You hated your mother, truly, but seeing her in a form that was caring and attentive had your inner child reeling for that affection. She never spoke to you this way. Her voice was never so smooth and soft, like a string of melodious chords playing in perfect symphonies.

“Catch up…” you repeated, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought. “What are we catching up on? I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Oh, dear, don’t worry about understanding. There’s no need. Just know that you’re safe here, and that I’m so pleased to have you. Everything will be okay here,” she assured, but it didn’t feel all that comforting.

Something nagged in your chest, desperate to tell you how wrong this was. All of the warning signs were right in front of you, yet your shattered heart only wanted the pieces to be glued back together with this act of unadulterated love.

How long had it been since somebody had spoken to you like this? You couldn’t even recall a single time, when you really thought about it. Your real mother was always so cruel. She was a broken woman, so destroyed over her own life that she had taken you down with it.

“Well…” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “What would you like to know?”

You lost track of the time spent with your other mother. Over the course of your conversation, you had felt a weight lifted off of your shoulders for the first time in your forlorn excuse of a life. She listened and cared for what you had to say, button eyes staring into your own with that toothy smile gracing her thin lips. Everything about her felt safe in your heart, despite your mind telling you otherwise.

You told her about your real mother, about your escape, about how lonely you had been until that point. She told you everything you ever wanted to hear, feeding you bits of security. She soothed over the open wounds with a bandaid of love you had never received, and you fell into that pool of comfort like a warm blanket, waiting to engulf you whole.

The shadows of your mind overpowered the logical side, all too eager to step into a realm where for once, you could be a person again. Your other mother was the key in stitching up the holes in your heart, mending them with nimble hands and stuffing them with light so blinding, you dove right into it.

By the time you returned home, making your way through that lovely, little tunnel and back into the sorrows of your own dreadful sight of a home, the sun had risen just barely from the pane of your windows. The living room was quiet when you stepped into it, and you felt a hint of bitterness fill your mouth at the remembrance.

You were alone, in a world that was much too cruel to you. Your scars were still open and bleeding out, urgently needing to be tended and cared for. Lucky you, you had a newfound mother figure who wanted to give you just that.

“Good morning, Caroline,” John greeted you as you stepped out of your door hours later. “Heard quite a ruckus in your place last night. I do hope that you were alright.”

You took in the sight of John, whose kind smile looked more like a grimace the more you stared at it. Gaz was standing behind him, but offered no smile like John had. Instead, his eyes were hardened as they looked at you, shifting up and down your body like you had just said something to offend his entire family.

Confusion bubbled inside of you. Had you done something to offend them? Surely, you couldn’t have been so loud last night that they had heard you from their apartment down beneath your home.

“I’m alright, thank you. I apologize for any noise. I was doing some spontaneous cleaning around the house,” you lied with a forced smile, shrinking under Gaz’s gaze as his nose flared in what appeared to be annoyance.

“That so?” John hummed, eyes boring into yours for a moment too long. It felt like he knew you were lying, but how would he have known?

It felt like all three neighbors had eyes on you at all times, yet you couldn’t figure out how.

“That’s right,” you confirmed with a nod, attempting to appear more confident in your answer so as not to raise suspicion.

John said nothing and instead stared at you for a beat longer, before musking up another one of his bright smiles that was near hidden behind his facial hair.

“Alright then. Let us know if you need anything, yes, Caroline? Anything at all.”

Weird.

“Actually,” you spoke up before they could walk away. John raised his eyebrows at you, and Gaz glanced over at John then back to you. “I was wondering… you mentioned there might be something wrong with this house. We didn’t get to talk about it before, but I’m quite the curious person, you see.”

“…I see.”

“Right.” His stare was anything but amused. “Well, I found a door in the wall. It’s all bricked up, but I was a bit nervous about it.”

From behind him, Gaz tensed, shoulders tightening up. If it were even possible, his glare seemed to become more cold.

“Mm. And why’s that, if it’s all bricked up?”

Fuck, you had to come up with a lie. All you wanted was answers, but you knew John wouldn’t give them to you if you told him what you saw. He might’ve even thought you were a mad woman.

“You don’t think, um, rats or anything can get through it, do you?” you opted to ask. You could see his eyes glimpse over to Gaz so quickly, you nearly missed it.

He went silent for a moment, before letting out a thoughtful grunt.

“Don’t think anything can get in and out of that thing. It’d be best to keep the door locked. Don’t go meddling around in it if you don’t want unwanted guests, hm?” he asked. His tone was a bit off, that much you could tell, and it was clear that his words held a certain firmness that showed he definitely knew more than he let on.

You gave him another firm nod, flashing him a smile in hopes of easing the tension, though it crumbled a bit when Gaz sniffed and looked away from you, hands shoved into the jacket of his hoodie.

You bid your farewells to them, even when Gaz made no effort to look at you anymore, and once they were out of sight, you began your trek around the side of the house.

You hadn’t seen Si since he disappeared on you last night, but when you began passing by the stairs that lead upstairs to Soap’s apartment, you felt a pair of familiar eyes piercing into you. Halting in your steps, you bent your neck up to see Si sitting along the railings that Soap was leaning against during your last encounter. He was peering down at you, and just as always, studying you.

“Hello, Si,” you greeted politely. He blinked at you, eyes slightly narrowed into judgmental little slits.

Before you could continue your journey around the house, the door of the apartment flew open and out came the obnoxiously loud Scotsman. His grin was even wider than it was when you had first met him, and he joined Si in staring down at you from where you stood on the ground.

“Miss Caroline!” he exclaimed joyfully. “Lovely to see you made it out this morning!”

The smile you offered him dropped and was replaced with an uncomfortable frown. Si’s tail flicked lazily behind him, like always, and he didn’t tear his gaze away from you once.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you questioned, tilting your head at him.

“It seems somebody didn’t keep their promise. Ain’t that right, Miss Caroline?”

How did he–

“Si tells me everything, sweetheart. He’s a talkative, little thing, y’know.” Soap lifted a hand to affectionately swipe a large hand over Si’s head, causing him to purr. His fuzzy, little head nudged further into Soap’s hand, egging him on, to which Soap granted him scratches behind the pointed ears.

“Cats don’t talk,” you deadpanned, wondering if Soap was crazy or maybe hallucinating.

No. Definitely crazy.

“Si does,” he corrected with that signature grin. “Ratted you out like a little minx. Ain’t that right, SI?”

Si meowed in response, and you stared in bewilderment at how Si was so at ease in Soap’s presence.

“Is he yours?” you asked.

“He’s nobody’s.”

“That doesn’t make sense. He has a collar with his name on it. Surely, he’s your cat.”

“Wrong, love. He’s his own person.”

What the hell did that mean? This dude was definitely insane.

“Right.” You let out a sigh through your nose, shoulders deflating in defeat. Clearly, you weren’t going to get an answer on how Soap knew you broke your promise and went through the little door he warned you about. He would simply tell you that the cat talked.

“Suppose since you broke your promise, I’ll break mine. I’m going to blast my music a bit louder now,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he peered at you.

You glanced back up at him with a frown. Si shifted his gaze to look at you, and there it was again – that look of disapproval.

“Why do you play that silly music anyway? You have a secret circus in that place of yours?”

Your question caused him to roar with laughter. It was a heart laugh, one that came right from his gut, and it filled the dreariness in the air with a bit of light. Regardless of how infectious it was, you didn’t know what was so funny.

“No, lass, not at all. Si wouldn’t like it if I had a little circus army of rats in my place,” he mused once the laughter settled. You thought he said Si wasn’t his cat. “She doesn’t like it.”

This stumped you. “Who doesn’t like it?”

Soap’s hand trailed from Si’s head and down his back, causing the cat to arch into the touch. He offered you a knowing smile, but for what you still weren’t sure. These neighbors of yours sure loved to play a game of mystery, entangling you in webs of confusion and offering you no resolution in the end.

“You’ll learn to like it, lass,” he stated instead, picking Si up and cradling him to his chest. “Believe me.”

With that said, he turned his back to you and stepped back into his apartment, shutting the door and successfully cutting off any hopes of you getting answers.

[lostiolite]

Saw you liked dangerous fellows and are accepting requests, I was wondering if you could write headcannons for all the characters? Maybe include how they act the first time you meet in comparison to how they are after getting close with them. What they're like with physical affection, holding hands, kissing cuddling etc. Whatever you can think of about a headcannon basically. You don't have to but I'd also love if you could include other characters like Judy, Sue, Jae and Scarlett! (If you think she's redeemable 💀) Thank you so much! <3

so i didnt due jay or hailely but anyways yeah! sorry for taking FOREVR

and its not proof read because i am not proof reading 3.0k words on a laggy laptop

LAWRENCE  

He's interesting, a knight in shinnng armor with some… things going on. I don't think he’d change much over the course of your relationship. He is down for anything because it's you. 

He's kind, calm, and very attentive. He notices things about you that you don't even realize. He always seems to pop in at the most convenient moments. This has to do with the fact that he's extremely over protective and territorial of you. He doesn’t let  it show early on though. 

After you get close and kind of stuck with him is when he shows his much more overbearing side. Hes like a sick guard dog that scares anyone away. Anyone who steals your attention, female or male, platonic. especially romantic he doesn’t like. He gets jealous, like crazy jealous. Hes insane, he holds your worth over his own family (cannon), but that doesn’t mean he isnt above hurting you. Thank god it wont ever come to that though. Both in cannon, because its too dangerous and the lack of profesionall medical tools could mean the msallest injury could be fatal. And in a no zombie au because, well the law. Korea is the land of cctv afterall, his ass would get caught. 

Overall, hes very helpful. Hes always down to listen to you. To him, your voice and love is a cure to even his darkest thoughts. Hes very genuine in his love with you too. He wont hesitate to compliment you or give you a little kiss here or there or everywhere. He loves holding hands, kissing and cuddling. He wants to be with you, be you and be your savior. He loves you genuinely with all his heart. He could be stuck an eternity with you and you alone and he would be happy for said eternity. To him, you made all the wrong in life right, and the once dull colors vibrant. He actually enjoys waking up now. He’s a very complex man. I dont think he cares about pda, or public appearances much when you’re inloved. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what everyone else thinks, (he does actually).  I dont think he has much self worth. Its hard to explain. Hes smart, pretty and (probrably) athletic, or physically capible. He knows he the guy girls and even guys swoon over, but he doesn’t really have a personality. His only sense of self worth comes from his academics and what others think of him. Hes begun to find life dull, even so he doesn’t know what else to do. Everyone is snakes so when he meets someone (you) whos genuine he latches on with every bit of his being. You gave him the ability to find his self worth as a human and outside of academics, which also means you hold alot of power against him, even if you dont know yourself. I think he really just needs to learn that you love him for him no matter what. Then his extreme tendencies will lessen abit. As for love language i think he exceeds in all of them, though he may lack in quality time for his busy schedule. Study with him, he would really enjoy it. Even if you aren’t talking, just cuddling or embracing as you do your studies is something really intimate that makes every part of him warm. He could genuielnty get lost in thought looking at you. Will do your hair, doesn’t matter what kind of hair you’ve got. He will research and learn how to take care of it. Again, to him intimate moments like freshly showering and in pj’s is something that makes him so happy he could die. He’s also fine with matching outfits. But I think he likes matching stationary and studying tools more. It makes him smile. Back on the topic of studying, he LOVEs when you ask him questions, it could be a simple “9x9 is 81 RIGHT???” and he’ll smile as he nods. I think once he learns some genuelen self love and respect, he will be awesome. Tbh, i dont think he’d raise his voice in arguments, I think he’d be somewhat condescending. “Oh dont you get it?” “this is for the better”. Lowkey i feel like he’d deflate imeediatley after out of fear that you’d leave. When you move in together i think the highlight of his day will be waking up next to you. Wakes up an extra hour early jsut to cuddle you.

As for children, i could see 2 paths. Genuine love after he learns self respect. Or the Aishi route where he only loves them for being the actual embondiment of the love between you and him. But i like the first idea more so- he does everything his parents couldn't. Tries his best to promote their studies while also giving them love. 

EUGENE

Standoffish, and tsundere. Hes very cautious of people. He has firm boundaries of who he considers friend or foe. That being said he becomes much more attentive and protective (different than Lawrence) to you. He wont let anyone defame you and acts like a worried mother, telling you to dress up for the cold and chastises you for forgetting sick. Kind of like a worried mother. Hes very blunt and sometimes comes off as rude but he genuinely doesn't mean to. 

As for physical affection i feel like hes playfully aggressive. Big fan of hand holding in public. I think he likes to hold your head close to him. Hes a big fan of arcade dates, especially the rhythm game ones. He loves playing crane games even if they are rugged. Will do the cliche thing of winning a gift for you at a carnival / fair but its the cutest thing ever. Forehead kisser 100%. Composes music for you, its a huge way of showing his love for you. Makes playlists and burns cd’s for you and to listen to together. Would love it of you were to return the act. If you play an instrument or sing he would 100% wanna duet. Omg imagine starting a band with him. You don't even have to make the music, you could literally be the artist or music video maker. WOuldn't that be so cute (i cant help but think of niigo) 

Much more understanding of fandom culture and things of the like, so yapping about your fav artists or even characters would be nice because he actually understands most of the internet lingo. Likes all your social media posts and makes stupid silly comments. All your moots/oomfies know who he is because wherever you are, he is aswell.

When hes comforting you, he will usually bash the other party for being the cause of your sadness. He usually insults them and their viewpoints while rubbing your hair. Hes really stubborn, so please be patient with him. Hes trying to get better, because he doesnt want to hurt the person he loves.

ETHAN

Unioricnly, a nice bonding time would be sleeping lolololo. Hes extremely standoffish at the beginning, like usual. But once you get his socials, he becomes much more understandable since hes able to communicate better online through sms. Even though hes a rather dry texter, you slowly learn to understand him more. I dont think he would go out of his way to participate in cheesy coupley stuff. BUt, if you asked him to then he would. I dont think his personality toward you would change much and most people woudnt be able to tell that you are dating but thats honestly for the better because hes generally a more private person. However, just because its not visible doesnt mean that he doesnt love you. WIll put his life on the line for you in a heart beat. And considering his physical strength he will not hesitate to put someone in their place if they tried something on you. 

Despite his muscular figure, hes very cuddly and cozy. I feel like hes a crazy sleeper who sleeps in the wackiest positions. But, he always manages to wrap his arms around you. I feel like he would kiss you on the nose or lips.  Please help him study for all the classes hes slept thoruhg. In return he will do something like “this is for you ___” while hes playing baseball or something. Wether or not he misses it still enamores the people viewing because its so weirdw watching ethan, the usually cool and quiet one proclaim his love for you. On that note his teammates find his subtle change in behaboir cute. Like the way he starts constantly checking his phone during practice to see if he got a text from you. Or the small smile that tugs on his lips informing them that he got a text from you.

I just know he would be horrible at comforting you. Probably just stands there confused. He puts his hand on your shoulder then hugs you because thats all he can do. He will text you later, when his thoughts are much more composed. These messages are  heartfelt because you can tell he put effort into it.

ZION

He teases you with malice at first, like he does with everybody. But once he gets a soft spot the teasing become more endearing and he becomes much more protective of you. If you don't like the teasing he will (try) to stop. Only he can tease you and will get one anyone for teasing you (if it makes you uncomfortable). I dont think hes the biggest fan of PDA, more just things like hand holding and thats it. The nail in the coffin for your relationship is when he becomes vulnurbale and opens up about his past. Hes a big and small spoon tbh. As much as he portrays himself as rash, he is ultimately a big teddy bear. He definitely gives big bear hugs. Definetly just a straight up mouth kisser. Oh yeah he would square up with anyone who tries anything on you. Not to mention hes really rich so he would blacklist them from the neverland parks. Spoils you rotten, makes a while fiasco out of any achievement and throws a big fat fucking party, or if your not a party person just buys something really expensive and makes a big deal out of it. Takes you shopping for clothes and anything you like (like… figurines). I don't think he would be opposed to the idea of ordering custom plushies/figures of the two of you. As for his rich family, they obviously wouldn't be fond of him dating a commoner but he can always marry someone for political gain and just spend his time with his actual partner.

HARRY

Self-depricating and too kind for his good. Hes extremely nice to you as he is everyone at the start so you dont really feel special. Hes the type to be straightforward and as you out. Hes very old fashioned, or tries to be considering his lack of money. Im going to be honest i dont think hes in the best mental state. He would jump off the roof if you asked him too. He feels like a burden to his mother just for existing and will take along time to open up to you. Hes also very manipulatable, due to his lack of selfworth. Hes much more willing to indulge in pda. Afterall why woulnt he showcase his love for you? Doesnt have mch money so his dates usually consist of cheap convenience store runs or hanging out at his work. As self-loathing as he is, would probrabbly be the best partner. He will very much communicate his feelings. Hes very patient with you despite all your flaws. He loves you from the earth and back and would do anything to make you happy. Please get him a violin (im pretty sure he sold it in cannon to pay for bills?). Will play you dozens of love songs and your favoirtes. Shows up with flowers and chocolates on valentines because thats how he is. The very supportive golden retriever boyfriend who will cheer you on no matter what. Hes your best friend and number one fan.

JUDY

Happy trooper! Shes super jolly and just like Harry overly nice to everyone so its hard to tell how much you mean to her specifically. I think she would also be straight forward about confessing but much more nervous and blushing. She starts jumping with joy when you accept. Huge pda fan, will give the biggest fattest fucking smooch to you whereever whenever. Loves cuddling, doesnt care about big or small spoon. Just holding you close is enough for her. Super smily and her demeanor can lift you up in a ,matter of seconds. After getting into a relationship, not much changes other than the blatant kissing. sHe is more real with you and will voice her doubts about things that scare her. shes really good at keeping herself grounded and helping others. Posts you for national bf/gf day and says endearing cheesy things. I cant help but feel like shes silly with text but also unirronicly uses smily faces like an old grandma. 

SUE

Shes similar to lawrence, but like not batshit crazy. She also isnt as playful, espcially when you first meet her. Her treatment towards you will be either one, you dont really care about your studies and act stupid and she kind of just shoves you aside or you are her study buddy or someone she deems respectable. Shes also kind of like a nagging mother but not too a harsh degree. She always takes note of your state and brings you snacks/gifts because they reminded her of you even if she doesnt realize it. She kind of quiet and introverted but i dont really think she minds pda. She doesnt see why she should chare about what others think about her relationship afterall. Though, i dont think she goes out of her way to kiss you in public, she saves it for more intimate or important times. 

If i can recall correctly she was part of student council so trust she will be using that to her advantage if anyone tries to bother you. I think spending time with her is fun especially because she probably helps with school events so you two always have something fun to do. Afterall whats better than helping out at a fair and also getting to go on a date at the same time. Dating Sue has a ton of perks because (especailly if you were already a goodie-two shoes thats liked by teachers) teachers will be way more lenient of you. Practically letting you guys do things that the other kids cant do. Shes definitely big spoon and is surprising really cozy. I think fur coats would look nice on her so hugging her in the winter is definitely a plus. 

SCARLETT

Shes a hard one to get along with. Her abrasive attitude doesnt really change much and its really hard for you to tell when she starts to like you because again, her attitude doesnt change. Its smaller things like her worrying about you under the gaze of simply being curious. If your oblivious or just dont catch on to her, it will just eventually get to a point where she aporaches you, asks you out and demands an answer. Definitely a big pda person, and flaunts you around like “heh! Yea this is MY partner. Goes or drags you on shopping dates. Not only does she dress up but she dresses you up and she has a really great eye for fashion. Its very clear that shes the “bratty princess” characatchure.

Anyways i think she would have a fun time setting up a home date for the two of you, like doing your nails as you two listen to a tv drama channel or just gossip. Very iconic couple and gf 10/10. I think she would switch between big and little spoon, she doesnt have a solid preference, its more of a spur of the moment feeling for her. Kisses you with lipstick and takes photos.

[erinwantstowrite]

Hihi I wanted to say thank you ! Bit random but your fic has helped me realize that it’s okay to just have fun with writing a fic and it doesn’t have to follow any rules or such.

I used to only write main ideas for fics I wanted to write but was always too nervous about messing up or it sounding dull that I never managed to follow through, but while reading LoF and such, it’s helped me see that it’s a lot more relaxed than I thought it to be. I can happily say I’m writing my own contribution to the Spidey in Gotham niche and yeah I just wanted to thank you <3

And a a little question of how you decided on all the suits for your AUs ? Like Peter’s jacket in LoF or that INCREDIBLE venom AU suit (it looks so cool)

Ahhh that's so cool!! I really really love that!! Writing is supposed to be fun and crazy and adventurous! You write for yourself first, forget about what could be "cringe" or "lame" to someone else, and go for it! :) I hope your writing journey takes you far and you see many places to write about!

And I've always been fascinated by character design. It started with my first ever anime, Fairy Tail. The designs can be cheesy or fanservicey but I loved that they never really made sense in a set of time or era specific, and that they were always interesting, if a little cooky.

Designing suits is a pain in the ass, but fun. It's a lot of looking at artwork that I really enjoy that other artists made and seeing what I think the character I'm designing for would like the most- or looking at fashion from all different walks of life. It's also a lot of keeping in mind a characters story, the themes of their life, etc. Details, details, details.

I decided on the jacket that Peter wears in LoF because, well, he needed a jacket. It's getting colder and his regular jackets weren't going to cut it for the whole "secret identity" thing. So far in Peter's life, he'd been wearing what is "practical" to have and not what he wanted to have. In LoF, he's starting to branch out in his identity as Spider-Man. He looks up to Jason in a way (thinks he's cool) so I figured he'd want to wear something like Jason. He got the new jacket and he ended up wearing a domino mask too- something to symbolize that his time in Gotham is starting to change him. It's no coincidence that he gets these items and the same chapter, he ends up finally at the Batcave.

But with him designing the jacket, making it his own, and even putting an Iron Man patch on one sleeve? It means he's still himself, Spider-Man, and he's still got his home on the mind. It just also happens that Peter cares about Gotham now, too.

As for the venom suit, I took influence in the Venom designs I saw from the comics or fanart (I didn't make a board, so I can't pull up the exact refs right now), and also looking at other Spider designs from the Spiderverse movies. I kept it mostly the same suit I designed for LoF Peter, just with darker hands (as to say, blood stained), claws, a harsher/more vibrant red, etc, as a way to say that he has not moved past the kid he was when he was first bit, and Venom changed him for the worst. :)

I have more suit designs (such as LoF Peter's suit changing over time) but I can't share them yet,,,, They're technically spoilers,,,, RIP,,,,

[doahaesunshine]

Fallin' Flower

Summary

Seokmin was always the complete opposite of you. Vibrant, colorful, a little silly, and just so unapologetically him. He saw the beauty in the world and was able to capture special moments with his camera. You had no such talent, you mostly saw the world as a bit dull and empty. That’s why you painted. You would rather create something fantastic and other worldly than see the world as it actually was.

Tags

Alternate Universe - Magic, Magic AU, Trauma, Multiple POV, Toxic Behavior, Lose of Memory, Depression, Manipulation, Drowning, the frog the frog the frog the frog (don't worry about it), Different Types of Magic, Empaths, Cheol gets Angry, TECHNICALLY Ot13 if you squint, PTSD, and overall emotional damage.

Co-written by @wooahaeruby

Status: Complete

Word Count: 73,928

Chapter Count: 21

Chapters

Like a mix of sadness with a cold smile

Where the fallen heart goes

I realize that everything has a reason

I want to see you right now

Scars cure and buds shoot

I won't take you for granted

The fallen heart

We can smile together

Hiding my state of mind

To me you are very precious

I am here, you suffered a lot

Don't worry. Don't be scared

One Hundred Eighty-Three

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

Epilogue

AO3 link

[bloodmoonmuses]

it waits for dawn | lee taeyong

requested by an anon! send me an ask!

genre: taeyong x reader, friends to lovers, summer coworkers, non-idol au, fluff sorta kinda :)))

wc: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of blood, some swearing

summary: while working your summer job, you meet an eclectic boy who's obsessed with stars and the beauty of the universe.

Working at the planetarium was an odd summer job, sure, but it was about the same pay as the ice cream shop or (God forbid) the zoo. The facility remained pretty empty most days, save for the occasional field trip or savvy tourist. For the first two weeks you worked there, it was just you and the manager, Taeil. Then, one day, Taeil says he finally found another lackey- some guy who just finished his undergrad. 

You’re not sure why a college graduate would be slumming it at a planetarium, but you don’t question the matter any further. At least now you’d have someone to split responsibilities with. 

“He’ll be here any minute,” Taeil tells you.

When he walks in, you’re a bit taken aback. His cotton candy hair and smattering of tattoos almost clashes with the nerdy polo and khakis he’s wearing. You assume this is his attempt at looking “professional”, which is funny because you’re in a band tee and cut-off shorts and Taeil is practically in pajamas. 

“I’m Taeyong,” he says bashfully, dipping his head as a greeting. 

You shake his outstretched hand and his ears turn red. He has the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen, like a drawing almost. The prevailing word at the front of your mind is “cute”. He’s very cute.

Taeyong is a sticker book come to life, eclectic and vibrant against the dullness of the overcast day. You’ve never seen him around before. You would’ve remembered. He must be new in town- or a figment of your imagination. A part of you wishes it’s the latter.

“I’m ____,” you say, fixated on your still conjoined hands. When Taeyong realizes he hasn’t broken away from the hand shake, he drops his arm quickly, coughing to fill the awkward silence. Taeil is none the wiser. 

“If you could show him around the place, that’d be nice.” Taeil says nonchalantly. He walks back into his office, going to take his daily three hour nap. Taeyong looks at you confusedly.

“If you had any worry about this being a strenuous or uptight job-” Taeil’s snoring interjects, “-I can assure you, it is not.” you contend. “It’s like a movie theater, honestly. We run the projection presentations every other hour, and when there’s field trips, we walk the kiddos around for about 45 minutes or so.”

“Ah, really? That’s it, huh?” Taeyong looks a bit disappointed.

“Yeah. Pretty easy,” you say, shrugging. “Oh, and we stock the gift shop.”

—

The next day, Taeyong somehow manages to bomb his first real shift.. You’re shelving plushies in the gift shop when you hear a loud crashing sound. When you make your way to the supply room to see what happened, Taeyong is buried in a pile of commemorative cups on the floor. 

“You okay?” you ask, trying not to laugh. The moon phase tumblers are the most popular of the gift shop items, constantly needing to be restocked. 

“I think so,” he says. As you help him stand, you notice blood on his hand.

“Need a band-aid?” Taeyong’s eyes shimmer with tears, and he places his cut finger into his mouth, pouting a bit. He nods and you grab the first aid kit off the wall. It’s covered in a layer of dust from lack of use. You blow on its surface.

“How’d you cut your finger?” you ask, still giggling a bit.

“I tried to catch the box as it was falling.” He winces as the air hits his wound. “Ouch.”

You “tsk” at him, shaking your head as you open the first aid kit. “Taeyong, you gotta be more careful. Taeil doesn’t care if we live or die!”

He chuckles. “That’s not true! I think he has a soft spot for me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this cleaned up.” You take some alcohol and soak a cotton ball. Then, you clean his (minor) cut, unwrapping a bandage and securing it around his finger. He looks at you with wide eyes.

“Kiss it better for me?” he asks, jutting out his lower lip and extending his hand towards you.

“You wish.”

—

Taeyong and you become quick friends. If he comes in for a shift after you, he brings you ice cream. If the two of you close together, he walks you to your car. If you take a day off, Taeyong sends you pictures of Taeil sleeping.

He’s a great conversationalist as well. You learn a lot about him over the summer. He wanted to be a firefighter before falling in love with art, dancing and music. Now, he has a bachelor’s degree in visual art. He shows you videos of him dancing and lets you look through his sketchbook. He talks about his sister and how she’s just as kind as him. He tells you about his love of stars, and how he mediates on them as if they’re lost lovers. 

Despite the warmth Taeyong’s eyes fill you with, there’s also an underlying sadness in them- stress beyond his years swimming beneath their sparkling glory. He doesn’t speak much of it, but you can feel it. You can also see that stress leaving his body everytime he cranks up the projector for the solar system presentation. His favorite planet is Saturn.

You’re quite fond of Taeyong. You realize this when you catch yourself staring at him on a particularly slow day. A few elderly couples have come to see the permanent exhibit in the front of the facility, but other than that, it’s just you and him here. Even Taeil has taken a day off, the sloth of summer’s near end seemingly blanketing the entire town. The day progresses in slow motion.

Taeyong’s sleeves are rolled up, exposing his arms. You study his tattoos, committing them to memory.  His ever changing hair has been black for a few weeks now, which was a bit out of the ordinary for him. He looks a bit pedestrian, if that’s even possible, and not elven like his usually colorful hair makes him seem.

Despite the snail pace of the day, Taeyong is working way more than is actually necessary- always a self-starter and ready to please. 

“Take a break, Taeyong. You’re gonna have a heat stroke.” The A/C unit is busted. Again. You’ve plugged in a few portable fans, but they’re not doing much.

“Inventory’s gotta get done eventually.” You’re enamored with the multitudes of Taeyong’s character. He’s often an easy going guy, but stern when it counts. Not a killjoy, or anything to that extent, just more upright than you’d assume at first glance. Such is the issue with assumptions; they’re just asking to be subverted. 

You feel bad watching Taeyong lug around boxes by himself, so you push your laziness aside and begin helping.

“I got it,” Taeyong says.

You continue to lift a box, following him on the trek from the supply closet to the gift shop. “I know you’ve got it, but you’re gonna die if you carry all of these on your own.”

“I’m not gonna die,” Taeyong says, blowing a few strands of hair out his face as wobbles about.

“Tell that to the red flush covering your whole body, Superman.” 

Taeyong huffs at you. “You’re so mean to me,” he says. There’s that lower lip again. It’s becoming your weakness, the more he pouts at you. Sometimes you tease him just to see it more often.

“Fine. Want me to stop?” you say, putting down the box you’re carrying. You pretend to walk off.

“No, don’t leave! I feel like I’m gonna die!” Tayong shrieks.

You deadpan at the cartoon of a human standing in front of you.

__

It’s a field trip day and the planetarium is packed. Unlike the usual, Taeil is actually helping, saying something along the lines of “all hands on deck” as if that doesn’t entail a total of six hands. The children stream in like a school of fish, neon summer camp shirts glowing in the bright sun. They’re beaming at one another, skipping and running around with boundless energy. Their liveliness sparks something in you, smiling so much that makes your cheeks hurt. What hurts more, however, is seeing how sweet Taeyong is with the kids. He takes the lead on showing them around the permanent exhibit, explaining the solar system and composition of stars and other space rocks. You watch from the back of the crowd, blaming the flush of your face on the temperature and not on the fact that Taeyong’s smile makes your breath hitch.

You should think he’s the nerdiest person in the world right now. This whole exchange would be great material to tease him with (-something about how he’s a softie and a loser or whatever). However, all you feel is a terrifying fondness taking over you, ripping at your chest as if it’d been ravaged by a lovesick wolf, its claw marks creating deep caverns where your heart lies. It fucking hurts how much you simply like him. You don’t even want to imagine- no, you can’t  even imagine what’d it be like to fall in love with him. 

One of the kids asks about Saturn and Taeyong nearly erupts with excitement. He talks in detail about its rings, tracing his fingers along the ridges of the replica of the planet. His eyes are sparkling, mirroring the faux stars above him. 

When kids leave, you glance at Taeyong. A tired smile is plastered on his face and he contently sighs. “That was so much fun.”

“I’m not sure who enjoyed it more- you or the kids,” you state. Taeyong chuckles. 

“Definitely me. I almost don’t wanna go home,” he says. 

“Then let’s stay.”

After finishing your closing duties, you and Taeyong meet in the planetarium’s theater. In the center of the rows of seats is a projector.  

“Lemme start the presentation,” he says, queuing up a video about Navajo astrology and constellations. “I’ve never actually gotten the chance to watch Southwestern Skies from the seats.” 

After he presses play, the two of you sit right in the middle of the theater. The video comes to life on the dome shaped ceiling. Your jaw drops in wonderment, feeling less self conscious when you see that Taeyong’s mouth is also agape in your periphery. Then, you’re drifting in outer space with him, your seats floating away into the ether as you become completely absorbed into the stars that surround you. You rest your arm on the divider between your chairs, subconsciously inching your hand towards Taeyong’s. As it draws nearer, your desire to interlace his hand in your own grows. The nerve endings at your fingertips buzz. Taeyong is magnetic. 

“This is my favorite part,” Taeyong whispers, awestruck. You try to break away from looking at him, to instead look at the display above you, but you can’t. Instead, you watch the stars in the reflection of his eyes. 

The dome bursts with an explosion of stars as various constellations fade into view. Orion’s Belt, The Big Dipper, Libra and Virgo- Taeyong had told you about them in detail, insisting on thumbing through his astrology textbook as he explained. (He stole it from the library, leaving five bucks on the counter to rid himself of any lingering karma.) Finally, the Milky Way comes into view- referred to as It Waits for Dawn by the Navajo people. Taeyong audibly gasps. 

“I think the whole thing is your favorite part," you tease. 

“Mmm.” He nods in agreement.

Distantly, your mind wanders to how the summer is coming to a close. You’re not sure what will come of you and Taeyong’s friendship. You hope he won’t be a memory, or strangers like the two of you started as. You want him to be a fixture in your life- a constellation to familiarize yourself with and never tire of, even as the universe expands.

You realize you’ve been laying your head on Taeyong’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” you mumble as you move to sit up. 

“It’s okay,” he says. Then, he places his hand on your head, guiding it back to his shoulder. “Unless your neck hurts, or something. Then, I won’t force you,” he adds hurriedly. 

“No, no. It’s good. I’m good,” you say, returning your head to its original position. When the presentation ends, the lights in the theater automatically come up. Suddenly, the moment feels too intimate for daylight, and Taeyong must agree, because he’s tense. You can feel it in his shoulder, the anxiety radiating off of him in waves, but he doesn’t tell you to move, so you continue to rest your head on him 

“Does the universe scare you? All the stars and planets and the unknown...” Taeyong says out of nowhere. Before you can respond, he says, “Ah, nevermind. Forget I asked.” He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as he backtracks.

“I like the question, silly!” You consider your answer for a moment, lost in thought. “ How infinite it is, yes. But the universe as a concept is very romantic. Like, philosophically speaking.”

“How so?”

You shrug. “It brought us together.”

“What a pretty thought,” he says. 

Life’s a bunch of little universes sewn together. Self contained and finite worlds that exist within infinity. Like your summer with Taeyong- a blip in the grandeur of your life, simply due to how little time he’s spent in it. You want to sew a little bit more of him into your universe. To make him more than a blip. To make him your entire universe. 

“Can I kiss you?” you ask suddenly, throwing caution to the wind.

“I’d like that,” he contends. 

You lift your head from his shoulder and place a delicate peck to his cheek. Taeyong gently grasps your chin, guiding your face to his. He then kisses you on the lips, tenderly, his lips just barely grazing yours. The moment seems to stretch on for infinity, though only lasting a few minutes, and you make haste to sew it into the fabric of your memory.

a/n: unedited + feedback is always appreciated!

[fiberturkey89]

Flat colours for my AU version of Jiro the Lightning Dragon post season one of Dragons Rising(WIP, expect the final result to be different!).

If you look in the top left, that's actually what Jiro looked like before Imperium captured him. He was vibrant and striking, a Lightning Dragon in his prime.

After spending five years in Imperium, his scales have dulled dramatically from the lack of sun. The lack of nutrition and food. To the point where he gained major trembles in his hands and legs, it makes it a bit harder for him to do everyday things.

The scars are from the Photac Wolves. But the worst ones are these two massive ones on his chest given to him by Beatrix's sword. Because the damage was so deep, he struggles to take off in comparison to Riyu and Vigor who can just jump and beat their wings. Jiro needs to work up to that point like an Albatross or Eagle.

[hollywoodfamerp]

Welcome to HFRP University!

Welcome to HFRP University - the home of the lions! At HFRP University, you'll find a vibrant campus filled with diverse characters, each navigating the trials and tribulations of school life. Whether you're stepping into the shoes of a student or guiding young minds as a teacher, there's a story waiting for you to unfold. Located in the heart of New York City - Manhattan is your campus!

For Students:

At HFRP University, students are a minimum of 19 years old, bringing a wealth of life experiences to their academic journey. Here, you'll tackle challenging coursework, forge lasting friendships, and maybe even discover a bit about yourself along the way. Are you the diligent student balancing part-time work with a full course load? Are you dorming with friends? Perhaps you're the athlete striving for glory on the field while managing your studies. Or maybe you're the artist, seeking inspiration in the world around you and expressing it through your creations. No matter your path, every student has a unique story to tell.

For Teachers:

As a teacher at HFRP University, you have the opportunity to shape the minds of the next generation. Whether you're a seasoned professor with years of experience or a new educator eager to make a difference, your role is crucial. Guide your students through their academic challenges, offer advice, and maybe even learn a thing or two yourself. From intense lectures and grading papers to office hours filled with deep conversations, the life of a teacher is never dull.

What to Expect:

July 13th - July 19th

AU Week is NOT mandatory. If you wish to keep current threads going, you absolutely can!

No plot approvals are needed for AU Week! We just ask that you please tag everything accordingly if there are any triggers for the safety of everyone.

If you’d like a current plot to happen during that week, please message us for a date :)

ALL AU threads need to have #hfrpau in the tags so members know what threads are AU and what aren’t.

Starters are still allowed in the starter tag during AU week - please just remember to use the AU tag above and state which character you’re playing.

Remember, you're playing YOUR current FC in college. You are welcome to base this AU off of their real life college stories or be completely original with your story line!

Daily tasks/events will be posted throughout the week! Keep an eye on the main for an itinerary! Everything from vision boards to a college football game are in the works!

Please like this notice so we know you're up to date!

[lartiel]

Oh yeah this au- I forgot

A bit to vibrant, a bit to dull

Umm, the fic might be called ‘bugging out string-lights’

[windfish6654]

Art dump III come visualize my scarabs

Introducing my universes via the Orange Ones because it mostly revolves around them anyway!! Boo— i hate this one. Actual true yapfest so i’m going to cut this right here.

This is KTWIN-Original and KTWIN-New. It is the start of an entirely different set of universes, where the whole idea of “multiverse interference and interaction” reached Nowhere. The name comes from the twins in these universes having K’s in their names instead of C— which isn’t very important other than for AU distinction— but that IS what they were named at birth. Below is a variety of art showcasing Klaus' design and character. His hair USED to be a dull, pinky orange, but after being reconstructed— where K-N began— it’s now a vibrant orange. Believe it or not, Klaus was the first ever “Claus” I ever built upon— NEU 0, A and B Came earlier this year.

Klaus is often seen on his own doing whatever an aimless kid would be, or studying his own physical being. He’s very attached and protective of Lukas despite him being independant. Lukas doesn’t really mind because of a lot of things— but mostly it’s his understanding that Klaus isn’t ever going to heal in a healthy way so he’s going along with it. While that may sound awful, Lukas is very knowledgeable on how to put that robot kid in his place. They’re still very close after everything, it’s just a bit rocky when Klaus stirs up spite-induced trouble. They sure are a… dynamic duo!

K-0 and K-N. While I haven’t yet drawn a family chart for these two, I don’t know how I’d go about it anyway. That’s because the scarred up looking one is the original Klaus (K-0) before he actually dies . The metallic one is New Klaus (K-N), and is how he looks today— in real time, if not a solid year behind (because thats what time his universe runs on.) Poor guy is now bald! Everyone LAUGH.

Sketches and shittles. I rely on this universe to be extremely funny to me because genuinely this kid and his twin are very funny, they are subjected to my bullying and everyone else’s bullying. But they are also subjected to The Horrors™, mainly Klaus and his past self. I forget to mention Lukas can actually be so mean but its kinda just the “no more mr nice guy” trope but way funnier and more interesting. Also also, Lukas didn’t get the K in his name until waaaaay recently. Everything in this post is kinda outdated

Klaus — Body of a moving bullet train, soul of a 17 y/o that is permanently regressed to 13 or younger after being rehomed in the new vessel. Chatty, mischievous, but paired with dangerous and destructive mood swings.

He loaths the past but admits he wants it back, as he’s rapidly losing everything he remembers.

Abnormally bipolar due to energy stored in his physical being. He really likes bad ideas.

Klaus says... "HEY!!!! HI!!!! HELLO!!!!"

[percyaugod]

Chaos Reincarnate AU

This was part/the result of what I call "Racecar rambles". Where my thoughts are just zooming around and Don't always make sense or I forgot some stuff.

The fact the Rise turtles don't just happen through an accident and had to be purposefully made, unlike the others. The same dimension also has terrifying versions of baddies kike Shredder and Krang. So the turtles just wouldn't have existed at all without intervention?

That would leave Shredder, Krang, a well-meaning but humanity-killing Draxum, and misguided Cassandra loose at once with no one to stop them. It'd only be a matter of time until they got out to another, even weaker dimension. The entire multiverse is doomed.

So the Rise dimension "borrowed" some of the turtles from other dimensions. Just one from each, it'll give them back it later! The other dimensions can function with one less turtle.

12 Raph > Donnie

03 Mikey > Leo

Bayverse Donnie > Mikey

87 Leo > Raph

I was thinking of them at first feeling sick and tired, then eventually starting to physically fade then disappear, maybe their memories fading as well. This gives Bayverse Donnie time to set things up and make it easier for his brothers

87 turtles would be a bit worried, but weird stuff like this is pretty normal for them. They always figure it out in the end. Except they don't and now their brother is missing and have no leader to guide them.

Bayverse Donnie deteriorates even faster as he works frantically to try to find out what's happening before he's gone completely. He's so close but his hands start phasing through the keyboard. He starts breaking down and sobbing that it's not fair. He hid it from the others so he's just gone and they don't even know why.

03 turtles thinking Mikey is just being dramatic as usual. It's not until the turtle that can't sit still hasn't moved in yours that they realize this is serious. The last thing he said being him trying to make a stupid joke to lighten the mood and looking so happy he made Raph smile.

And that leaves 12 Raph. At first he's annoyed that he's sick, and annoyed with his brothers for the teasing he gets for it. But as it persists, the family becomes tense with fear. They've never been sick for that long, their immune systems are built for the sewers, and Raph is the one who gets sick the least and yet the illness isn't transfering to them

12 Raph hates being sick and ignores it until he collapses. This of course makes everyone panic. When he starts getting really bad he clings to the others. Raph's eyes are usually such a vibrant green, but now they're so dull. Raph likes to listen to Donnie anxiously talk about his science stuff as he works, it's oddly relaxing. When Raph finally does disappear Mikey and Chompy are there with him.

[a-taut-thread]

Just a little height chart reference thing here for the hell of it + some basic design stuff + heavy iterator generation lore. Warning; this gets LONG, so the rest after the height chart is under the cut. Massive lore dump inside, be prepared.

The height order of the main iterators mentioned in this AU, from tallest to shortest, is Wind > Suns > Moon > Pebbles > Sig > UI.

UI is pretty much around as short as iterators get, Suns is around as tall as normal iterators get. For comparison; UI pretty much comes up to around mid chest height on Suns.

Wind is a special case and is one of the tallest select few because they're a patriarch. For another comparison, Suns comes up to their shoulder at best. The tallest patriarch however, and iterator as a whole, is Pillars; they're at least a solid head taller than Wind.

Patriarchs, who mark the beginning of the first generation and the creation of iterators as a whole, are absolutely massive and are just generally quite bulky due to technological limitations so early in, making the progress towards a more streamlined design a later trait. They're built to last over to look good. There's more dramatic head shape variation in patriarchs than in other iterators. They tend to have dull main colors, often shades of gray, with bright markings.

Patriarchs are the centers of regional groups (multiple clusters of local groups forming a broader region), in charge of keeping watch of and keeping order in their regions. They're the ones who big issues are brought to, and their cities can pass laws that effect the entire region, although this level of involvement is rare.

Patriarch examples include:

Pillars of Change; they have a light gray puppet with green markings, a more blocky/squarish head shape, and short, straight gray antennae.

Chasing Wind/Grey Wind; they have a medium gray puppet with orange markings, a longer face (think that common Pebbles design trope type of head design), and long, mostly straight gray antennae.

Storm on the Horizon; they have a dark gray/nearly black puppet with light blue/cyan markings, a rounded head shape, and three sets of gray antennae.

First generation iterators are generally on the taller side and are rarely below where falls Pebbles in height, most being around the same height as Moon give or take a bit. After the time of creating the patriarchs, the rest of the iterators in this generation were generally designed with a very friendly appearance in mind, to help further increase public favor towards iterators. They often have a more rounded/"soft" looking build, although there are a few rare exceptions, and they typically have softer features and friendly looking design traits such as rounded or circular heads, vibrant or pastel color schemes, and big antennae. Not a lot of points and edges, lots of curves.

First generation iterators typically hold important roles in their local groups, and are usually the first sources younger iterators go to for guidance. Quite a few are group seniors; the heads of local group who act as leads of sorts, ranking directly below their patriarchs and reporting to them any issues that need greater interference than what they themselves have authority over. They are as vital to the functions of their local groups as patriarchs are to their regional groups.

First generation examples include:

A Hazy Sky; they have a dusty teal puppet with yellow markings, a rounded face shape (but a bit tapered at the chin), and short but wide, rounded dark gray antennae. They have a very chubby build. They're a local group senior under Pillars.

Sliver of Straw; she has a dull cream puppet with darker cream markings, a rounded face shape, and long, thin, straight antennae shaped similarly to thin rods. Her rather muted color scheme is notably somewhat rare for this stage in the generation. She has a slightly slimmer build than a lot of first generation iterators, but still a bit rounded/"soft" looking. She's a local group senior under Storm.

Looks to the Moon (we all know more or less how she looks); she has a turquoise(?) puppet with red markings, a somewhat long face shape, and somewhat rectangular light gray antennae. She has a more rounded/"soft" build that's typical of her generation. She's a local group senior under Wind.

Second generation iterators vary heavily in design overall, from height to build to colors to common traits. This was by far the longest generation, spanning at least 1000 kilocycles, and it shows in the sheer number and variety of iterators created during this time period. Quite a few of them have more unusual physical traits, as during this time the Ancients experimented with just about anything at least once. Technology was improving and changed heavily over the duration of this generation.

While iterators of this generation are typically no longer group seniors, early second generation iterators are also common sources of advice to turn to, and they may temporarily fill in for their seniors for certain tasks in the case of said senior being away, incapacitated, or otherwise temporarily occupied.

Second generation examples include:

No Significant Harassment; he has a green puppet with lighter green markings, a somewhat long face shape, and light gray antennae bases with no "proper" antennae. He has a very rounded, stocky build, more so than even a lot of first generator iterators such as Moon. He has a screen/LED type display for an upper face in order to make him more expressive; looking too closely or when his display is off can get creepy however, as what resembles pupils in the display are actually typical iterator eye cameras that are more visible due to the screen. He at one point filled in for Moon and acted as her replacement for a rather important project she couldn't supervise at the time.

Waning Fire; they have a pale gray puppet with orange markings, a slightly tapered head shape (sort of a heart shaped face look), and two sets of medium length, mostly straight dark gray antennae. They have a medium to somewhat thin build.

Seven Red Suns; they have a light yellow puppet with red markings, a tapered head shape (their face more resembling a mask in a way than anything), and long, outwards pointing triangular dark gray antennae. They have somewhat chubby build. They have quite a few odd traits. They have expressive antennae that are mobile sideways, unlike normal iterator antennae. They have very unusual eyes with colored "iris" lights in the usual black eye; the right is red and has an actual camera capable of zooming and taking pictures, the left is gold/yellow and actually has fairly poor vision due to only being intended to give them a proper field of vision and depth perception when not using their camera eye. They're also the last or one of the last few iterators in their generation, and they have some third generation level technology as a result.

Third generation iterators are usually on the shorter side, with most ranging in height from as short as Unparalleled Innocence to around as tall as No Significant Harassment. They're typically very slender, being quite sleek and streamlined in build, with a few sporadic models with a slightly bulkier build mixed in. Their colors vary heavily varied in range, with everything from muted monochromes to bright vibrant hues and anything in between. In a more canon leaning timeline this would be a very short generation, not even 100 kilocycles before ending in mass ascension, but mass ascension didn't happen here so it could theoretically last at least a good bit longer than that.

Third generation iterators have no real notable positions in the chain of command; they're simply made to iterate and get their tasks done while doing so. Unintentional built in flaws or outright oversights and careless design traits aren't uncommon in this generation, having started to pop up at the tail end of the second generation and becoming more common at this point.

Third generation examples include:

Five Pebbles (we know more or less how he's gonna look too); he has a pink puppet with yellow markings, a long face shape, and long, mostly straight gray antennae antennae. He has a thin, almost too skinny looking build. His appearance, especially head shape, is notably odd among iterators of his generation; this is this is because he was modeled after Wind, with intent to directly resemble them, and as a result he heavily looks like a smaller, more streamlined version of them with different colors, down to having the same forehead markings. This is also why he's the tallest in his generation.

Unparalleled Innocence; they have a white puppet with bright teal markings, a long face shape, and light gray antlerlike antennae. They have a sleek/slender build that's typical for their generation.

[steviestits]

Siren's Call, Sailor's Fall - Part 1.2

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (Later parts will be E) Summary: When Steve is dragged onto a business trip with his parents, he thinks that it's going to be a lonely couple of days under the California sun, until he meets Eddie and the other members of Corroded Coffin. Eddie takes a liking to Steve and initiates him into their little group. However, Eddie's group hides a terrible secret, one that is connected to the dead bodies that kept being found along the shore and the strange transformation that Steve is undergoing. (Lost Boys Au but with mermaids instead of vampires) Eventual TW: Hypnosis, Extremely Dubious Consent, Feminization in the Clownfish type of way, Mermaid Transformation, Bad Guys Win

(Link to previous part)

“The body of a local boardwalk security guard was found washed up on the beach early this morning,” the reported on the radio said. “Severely mauled and drained of all blood, this is the seventh case like this in the area. Police are cautioning-”

Steve reached forward and flipped the channel of his car’s radio to a different station, causing “Every Breath You Take” to melodiously cut the newscaster’s report short. While it was upsetting that a man had been found dead, he didn’t need his mood brought down by events that didn’t affect him. Maybe that was callous of him, but he felt that he needed his wits about him as he was driving down this California backroad to meet his parents at their summer beach house.

Usually, his parents forced him to remain at their home in Indiana whenever they were away on a business trip, but this time they decided that Steve should come along. He was getting old enough that he’d soon be entering the company since he had recently graduate from college, so they felt he needed to learn what that entailed. Not that Steve actually was going to try to learn anything, it was just that he’d never been allowed to go on vacation before and wanted to soak up a bit of sun before he was forced to return to his dull life in the Midwest.

Though Steve didn’t think they’d notice that he was goofing off, since his parents were a bit flaky and self-centered. Like he had thought that he’d be taking the plane with them when they’d invited him along, except the day before they were meant to leave, his parents told him that they hadn’t got a ticket for him and thought it would be better if he drove to the summer house instead. Steve hadn’t started working yet, leaving him with no choice in the matter and forced him to have to obey their whims.

Steve did enjoy the drive to California, but ultimately, he was left feeling lonely. He’d been left alone with his thoughts whenever he didn’t have the radio playing to drown them out, reminding him that he didn’t have anyone. All of his friends sucked because they were more like business associates due to them being picked out by his father, and his extended family were like his parents, busy with their own lives to care about anyone else. Everyone was too caught up in themselves to give a shit about him, and Steve would be lying if he said that it didn’t hurt.

A few more minutes of self-pity passed before the beach house was in sight. It stood there in all it’s square glory, looking more like a cement parking structure than a beach house. Since the property was private, there wasn’t any other house in sight, leaving the home as a dull silhouette against a background of the vibrant blue ocean and golden sand. The long driveway was empty and so was the expansive garage when Steve parked his car in it.

Getting out of the car, Steve got his duffel bag out of the trunk and slung it over his shoulder before he walked into the unlocked house. He took in the vast living room with its white, marble tiled floor and the expansive, mauve sectional arranged around a large fireplace with a grand piano pushed into the far corner. Steve used to play when he was younger, making him almost wonder if they had put it there for him, but he knew it was more likely for show and that he would be chastised if he even so much as thought of tapping a single one of the ivory keys. There was also a bar situated in the back of the room, and strangely, his mother was slumped over it, day-drunk after enjoying a full bottle of chardonnay.

Steve walked further into the beach house until he reached the long, glass staircase and noticed a notepad with writing on it sitting next to the phone. He picked up the notepad, eyes scanning the words telling him that his parents wouldn’t be joining him as they’d decided to stay at the hotel where the business meeting was being held for convenience. It wasn’t even written by his parents as Steve recognized the writing of their shared assistant from every late birthday and Christmas card he’d received over the years.

Casual acceptance overcame Steve as he wished he could be angry or disappointed, but this was so typical of them that he was barely surprised. In fact, he felt a little foolish for not expecting to find this note from the start. His parents had always viewed him as more of a doll that they could use how they wanted than a living, breathing person, then once they were done with him, they’d discard him without a second thought.

The loneliness that he had previously been felling came back tenfold, and Steve felt that the house was too suffocating, despite its large size. He could go out to the beach to escape the feeling as his swim trunks were in the duffel bag he was carrying, but there wasn’t anyone there given that this was private property. What he wanted was noise along with the physical presence of others milling around him to fill the void temporarily inside him.

Steve’s mind went back to the news report that mentioned the boardwalk. There was no mention of the murder taking place on the boardwalk itself, only that a security guard that worked there had been killed, so he bet that it’d still be crowded with fellow tourist like himself. Also, the guy was probably eaten by a shark or something, which couldn’t walk on dry land, meaning that he’d be completely safe as long as he didn’t get in the water.

With is decision made, Steve put down his duffel bag near the base of the stairs then headed back out the door to his car. He was actually a little excited as he’d never been on an ocean boardwalk and thought it would be a fun experience. Even if it wasn’t, at least he could say that he tried it before he eventually went back to boring Indiana.

Part 1.1 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 1.3