#darling i do

[twisting-echo]

(Click on picture for better quality)

Woo! I've had this huge manip/edit idea stuck in my head ever since the prompts were decided!

So, I have two Soulmates AUs embodied here. One is the Colorblind AU, and the other is the Red String of Fate AU.

The Colorblind AU is an AU where individuals are born colorblind, seeing the world only in shades of gray. However, when they meet their soulmate—whether through eye contact, touch, or some other connection—their vision suddenly bursts into full color. It’s a beautiful metaphor for finding completeness and connection with another person. 

The Red String of Fate AU is an AU where a red thread connects two people who are destined to be soulmates. The thread is always tied to their index, pinky, or ring finger. As they get closer to each other, the string becomes more visible, signifying their proximity to their soulmate. Some people don’t have this string, and for various reasons, some strings turn black. Legend has it that if soulmates share the same or similar loops or knots on their fingers, their bond can transcend lifetimes—even death can’t permanently separate them. 

In my soulmates AU, Belle and Sulley were, like most, born colorblind. The time either of them saw a color for the first time was when they noticed something around their finger. The colored thread was very faded and transparent at first, but started becoming more vibrant and apparent as time went on. They discovered that the mysterious thread was very long and seemed endless. It could phase through objects and walls. And they learned that they were the only ones who could see it. When they both decided to follow their strings, they found each other in full, bright, color~

Whenever I think of a Colorblind Soulmates AU, I hear the song “Darling I Do” by Landon Pigg and Lucy Schwartz play in my head, so the screenshots of Belle walking by a tree to her village, the sky above Monstropolis, and the bottom manip I edited coincide with the opening lyrics of the song.

For Belle x Sulley Week 2024

Day seven: Soulmates

Ship: Belle/Sulley (Belley/Sullelle)

Tag: @frie-ice and @twisting-echo

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[xx-sketchy-xx]

LOOOK, LOOK WHAT MY MOTHER MADE FROM CAKE. AAAAAAAAAA-

[hansoeii]

It's about who.

[niccolites]

friends with benefits!price except that is not how he views the situation

calling you both friends is a bit of a stretch, really you're his cute neighbour who always seems to need a pipe tightened under your sink, or your washing machine is always making a strange noise, if he could have a look?

and listen. you're a little lonely. inherited your parents house and the only neighbour that talks to you is the handsome older man next door who is barely there because of his work

you think you're being a bit forward when you bake him some muffins as a thank you the next time he's home. embarrassed at how earnest it is. his pupils blow wide at the sight of you standing in his doorway, bashful smile that quivers a little in the shadow of him

a tentative friendship, the barrier of neighbour just a hurdle as price views it

things come to a head when you cook him dinner and nervously gulp down glass after glass of wine. he nurses one and watches you. eyes like headlights and you have the quivering legs of a deer

bashful, shy, neighbour, acquaintance. these are weak-willed boundaries that you try to put in place, but price is always intent. driven. places a hand on your knee and accounts for the way you jump, the flex of flesh that absorbs your reactions. all catalogued, used against you

john just need you a little more loose, to understand things from his perspective. still so skittish, even with his head between your thighs, but his arm is a band around your middle, holding you firm until you finally get it

he lifts his head, your slick in his moustache and you're still so bashful even as your legs tremble

he bends you over the table with your home-cooked meal at your eye-line. feeds you his cock, smooths a hand down your spine until you melt into his praises

the next morning, beard burn on your inner thighs and cum leaking out of you from where he had turned you over and pushing your knees to your ears, 'until it took' he had said. you had been pretty out of it at that time. you sneak out. he lets you, eyes on you even as you think he is still asleep. you don't get it yet. that's fine, he'll get it through that surprisingly stubborn head of yours

every time he's back, he's at yours, lapping at your clit like its soothing him after a stressful time away. or you're at his, hands braced on the wall as he grunts behind you with each thrust.

its the most bizarre fwb situation you think anyone has been in, no time to talk about what is going on before he is dragging your mouth to his, thumb hard on your chin like he can stop the words before the curl on your tongue. fills your mouth with his spit then his cock to drown it out

you finally manage to slur out a joke about him being your fwb. your fucked out, draped out over his barrel chest, smoothing your hand through the hair there. he makes a disagreeing noise and you lift your head

he has your left hand in his, thumb on your ring finger. intent. driven. you're not getting it yet. living in that house, all on your own. lonely. he hears what you're trying to say sweetheart, that you're just too shy to articulate yet. i think we're well past friends, don't you think?

headlights. dear. the blank space before the crack of the crash. you let him tighten his hand around your ring finger.

[sketchy-tour]

Thank you, Remderem!

[xixovart]

if annabeth had been taken by juno instead you know perfectly well she would’ve remembered percy. bc percy was the first to acknowledge her as a person and not a warrior or an error. the only reason juno didn’t take annabeth was because percy would’ve pulled a ‘rage of achilles’ type shit

[sirenetica]

My beautiful boyfriend @spellboundcities made art of the wonderful DDVAU (made by @xmaruu11 and @kitsuneisi respectively) and, obviously, i took that as a CHALLENGE!

So here's some fanart for a wonderful AU!

[ventibesito]

the prince she was destined to be with wasn’t a prince at all… 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

[acid-ixx]

〔00〕 — 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 : perfect perception

DIRECTORY: concept, chapter 00, chapter 01

it was always just you, and your family.

just you, your mother, twin brother, and grandfather. the puzzle is complete, there is no need for an extra couple of pieces to add on to your already satiated life. there is no need to work hard, or to endure painful endeavors to attain what you want; not when your family would complete it all for you.

it wasn't like you could, or should, complain, no? you have everything granted to you from when you were born. scarred hands, jagged figure, weary eyes; those aren't necessary for a person like you, who will always be sheltered, in both cozy blankets and loving arms. oblivious to the cruel world and pesting hands that claw on innocent beings like you.

a steady house life, a mother who shielded your innocence from all the bloodshed within the family's ordeals, who read to you fairytales, who had you sleep in her bed when you feared, when you foresaw what you thought were monsters under your bed. instead of inhibiting hatred for an heir who'd flinch at raising hands and the sound of clanging swords, she encouraged your meak demeanor and even spoiled tantrums. she runs her hands across your silky tresses, and kisses your forehead a thousand times if you'd even mention it in a passing moment. she dresses you in jewels, in velvety, silky clothes, and bathes you in toys and gifts you never seem to ask for. your little body sleeps on her chest, and listen the steady beat of her heart, calm and beating, all for you.

you teach her softness, and the joys of being a mother. a concept foreign in her eyes, raised opposite to you. she sees herself in you, and projects what should've been her childhood to her youngest twin child.

you have a twin brother, who, despite being born only a few minutes before you, was significantly older than you, both mentally and spiritually. from the moment he was taken into the world, his duty to take all your pain away and to become your very light was established. and like the warrior he is, he takes that daunting task and transforms it into motivation. he is your knight in shining armor, the prince who catches you when you fall, the one who braves your nightmares, the swordman to your royalty. he trains, all day and night, from such a young age to protect you from unnecessary dangers he understood even his mother fears you'd be subjected to. he does not complain, he does not find reasons to gripe; he takes the scars, the bruises, the punishments and missions all in stride. if it meant seeing you happy and unaware from all the cruelty of living; then so be it. as long as, by the end of the day, he comes back to your shared room to find your tiny form drawing a childish imagery of the little family you love and cherish.

you teach him compassion, vulnerability, and share with him the admiration for arts.

then there is your grandfather. a hardened leader, a monster to all those who serve, but an idol in the eyes of oblivious you. he justifies violence in the wake of achieving his goals, he doesn't tolerate mankind's treatment of nature and its animals, and takes the lives of those who dares oppose. but you are treated differently, like glass that shatters at the softest of hits. his words are sugarcoated and stripped down to the most infantine of comprehension, his eyes are soft every time he kneels to your level to gently request that you return to your room. ra's does not kneel, he does not plead, he does not stoop to those younger than him. but to you, naive and dewy-eyed, akin to a fawn hiding behind a mother's legs, he does. every week, he takes in various experts in the field of teaching to become your mentors in whatever passion you have. he is the foundation of your growth, and he prides himself in that regard.

from him, you learn your love of animals. from you, he learns of weakness, and defeat to such platonic desires.

with your little family, you are happy. you never have to find reasons to complain about food, clothes, or any luxuries their family, akin to royalty, could obtain. you have a family smothering you in affection, attention, to the point where all you have to do is smile at the slightest thing and notice how they melt to your whims.

you were never alone when you didn't want to, you were always guarded, safe, and constantly served.

as you should, as it always should be.

and it was a routine you were used to. you never complained, you never pondered beyond primitive knowledge, you had never desired for more, or wanted less. life was normal despite the strange arrangements with servants always being by your beck and call, or how your brother would always seem to come seeking you after another day of "hard work" your mother doesn't permit you to try, with gashes that litter his tan skin and usually sharp eyes, still fixed with a glare though softened once your arms come to coddle him as a reward.

he finds comfort in your hold. it never once registered within you his ever-growing strength and how his hold on you would always seem to to tighten whenever a potential friend would pass by.

yet you are loved either way, you are cared for. what more is there to ask when you have and always been the singular pearl dripping with grace, poise, and a softness beyond the brutish weapons swung within the training grounds your brother finds himself in.

you are loved by everybody: by your mother, by your brother, by your grandfather, and you're the necessary voice that calls out mercy for whenever a servant would be punished for maintaining a less than satisfactory performance when it comes to serving you. you're the light of reason beyond instictive swings of the sword and the impulsive raise of a voice demanding for battle to settle a deal; biting your lips in disappointment every time your mother attempts to punish a small mistake a servant would do right in front of you.

although certain voices in the hallways find your presence... unsavory, out of place, or they simply pity you; whispers filtering through the kind words everyone else never withdraws from you— nonetheless, they'd have no choice but to obey your childish whims, to smile at you, to be kind and diligent to your emotions.

everything is perfect.

yes, yes it is. an undeniable fact within the factions of your heart. you ignore the subtle strain within your chest, the way the emptiness becomes blatant, and the misunderstood desire for something else... something greater, far beyond the honor of your current family; and replace it with temporary joy.

a joy that softly smiles at the piling gifts, a joy that teaches itself to be good, to be grateful, and to dismiss the ever-changing spotlight you have for your family.

to ignore their hushed whispers whenever your small, eight-year old form with wide eyes, holding a toy between your chest, inquire about what they're discussing with that requires such... strained air and ridged poses.

to ignore their careful words, their gentle hands that pats your hair, that beckons you to come to a different room, and the irritation and bubbling tantrums paired with the heat that wraps your boiling thoughts and clenching hands.

you ignore, and try to neglect that growing ache that insurmountably never passes.

even if you lay in bed every night, unable to sleep, gaining consciousness slowly but surely after another day passes.

you ignore, and dismiss, and it all becomes a cycle that you ought to never break, to never rupture with childish curiosity and the thirst for wisdom.

... because everything is perfect.

everything is perfect. like the candlelight beams of the moon dancing through victorian styled windows, fluttering past the curtains to kiss your resting body every night you lay sleeping on a king-sized mattress, surrounded by soft, cotton plushies and silky, cool blankets as your brother coddles you; your head laying on his chest like routine.

it is perfect like the gardens of flowers all planted with your favorites, an array of colors harmoniously dancing to the sway of traversing winds and bumbling pollinators.

it is perfect like the daily hustle and bustle of your servants, buzzing through wide spans of hallways with their voices mingling through busy air and the wafting scent of a new delicacy your mother ornately chose for you to try.

everything was perfect, until it wasn't.

until the illusion of completeness, of unity and satisfaction were shattered like the bones of your brother's opponents, powderized to mere dust.

until you take notice of the hollow piece in your heart, until your servant mentions a father (a word so foreign, so similar to mother... but different all the same) in mere passing when you two had conversed whilst they were tying your shoes.

at first, you didn't pay a mind, proposing to yourself that you'd ask your mother instead after you've finished your daily assignments.

but then, unlike every other time where you dismissed, ignored and forgot— you began to ponder.

the word, the meaning, its possible etymology and every historical relationship it might've contained; a lesson your brilliant mentor taught you, one that served as a paveway for curious, little you, to investigate.

a trait you're sure nobody really tackled within your family.

if that is so, then where does your stubbornness, your drive to seek answers, come from?

you try to solve the puzzle pieces, ones you thought were never present in your life, your mind wracking through stored memories of a young, prying individual like you; until you came to a conclusion.

does it possibly come from a... father?

father...?

father?

father.

... your brother, too, said the same word.

when he was tired and beat from his training, when all he wanted was a singular hug, whose hands were stained with dripping ichor and knees bruised from hitting upon rocky ground. his emerald eyes were seeking your presence, and you find how his delirious state, itching for calm after another stormy trial of missions, was abnormal; unlike you who flinched at the dizzying scent of blood.

too mature, now you've noticed. a presence that exudes superiority, that takes the lives of those who rebel, that punishes anything less than perfect; that only softens, whose shoulders only sag when he takes in your presence within the same room as him— traits too foreign in the midst of a brother the same age as you.

so when you denied him of oasis, when your young brain was too scared, too worried and all the more wishing for answers on why he always comes back bleeding and injured, rejecting his offer for you to come closer— he all but seethes, and instead sighs; watching your quivering lips and the igniting fight in your eyes, a shaded mixture of your mother's and his.

"you're exactly like what mother told me. stubborn like our father when inconsolable... but i love you too much, akhi/akhti, to care for your lesser."

he muttered under his breath, emerald eyes gleaming under moonlit glow as he looks at you, emotions too miscellaneous beyond the swirling pools of green that always keeps a watch on you.

sometimes, he feels less like a brother and more of a knight. sometimes, you wish to rebel and instead dig deep into what's been happening to your brother these past few years, shaped by experience you never once caught yourself transpiring through. sometimes, you wish he doesn't treat you like a glass ornament.

sometimes, you wish you had a normal family.

as much as his words were sweet, as much as you would've felt warmth at the mere affection and exception he holds you in regard to his heart, even if he takes your body in his arms prior to your previous rejection, all but melting and rocking your body to sleep; a common method he utilizes to make you feel drowsy, and to eventually forget the blood on his sheathed sword and sinful hands once your eyes drift to a close—

you still reflect upon his words even if weeks had already passed by after that incident, even if he must've thought your somnolence was enough to dismiss whatever was the 'grammatical' mistake he'd mumbled that night was a product of fatigue after a long day of work.

... because despite being the perfect family, despite the love and care they foster within your heart; washing off the beating emptiness in your chest was harder than any injuries you've obtained after momentary clumsiness.

at least you knew when those scars were incurred, at least you had people to comfort you through the tears that escaped through your eyes.

but this immaterial emptiness has long since festered within the confines of your caged soul.

it beckons you to choose rebellion, it traps your thumping heart and tightens its hold on it, snaring it in a pit you couldn't crawl yourself out of.

desire drives you further away from delusion, from the foundations of weaved lies and rose-tinted picturesque perfection.

and you began to crave satiation to at least mend the missing puzzle piece in your heart; piece by piece, stitch by stitch.

who is your father? what is a father? why did dami told me i'm like... our father?

as you sit alone in your bed, toys long forgotten, alone with only the cool breeze fluttering by your window to accompany you. the questions begin to grate at your mind, yet all you do is bring your knees closer to your chest, lips dry at the forgone isolation you put yourself through after a cycle of endless thinking.

"momma will be here soon," you mutter to yourself. your voice, meek and highly pitched, young and cradling childish curiosity; it breaks at the seams when your fingers bring itself to touch and wipe away at wet cheeks and tender, aching eyes.

dami was right; you are stubborn like your father.

because even if they try all necessary means to shroud your life in seclusion from reality— you don't easily back out of a losing fight.

even if the tears you shed from the lack of progress were insurmountable, even if you knew you were at a physical disadvantage shall push come to shove where you'd have to fight your dearest brother, even if it means struggling against the invisible shackle your beloved family locked you in.

because your perfect perception of your fucked up family has long since dissipated from the moment your servant and your brother mentioned a foreign word.

a simple word, a small mistake, yet acting as a newer path of life that long since diverged from the only way you knew how to live.

and you still wish to solve the mystery of your forlorn emptiness.

will you give up just so easily? would the tears you shed all become mere depression?

no, not even as you sit in your too-huge bed, with no clue on where or how to start a hopeless journey; too young to plan, too little to fight, too tenderhearted in the views of your family.

even then, your red, rubbed raw eyes seek to look back on your first hint from within the room

a dictionary was sprawled across the opposite end of the bed, thrown haphazardly, opened to a certain page that highlights words closest to 'father'.

you crawl, with sore arms and wobbly legs, to retrieve the heavy, hard-bound and gold-encased dictionary, lounging on your bed with a damaged spine.

your fingers return to traverse multiple pages yet again—

stubborn, impatient and impulsive.

earlier, it came to you in the form of realization that the dictionary your mentor assigned you to read had a missing word cut precisely with a blade and replaced with an unintelligible one.

earlier, you realized just how much your perfect family was only perfect because they've hidden the truth from you.

earlier should've been years ago, earlier should've never been swept off the rug so easily. but what could an eight year old like you do? you've none of damian's talents to quickly learn, you're raised differently. it is only now you wish you weren't so gullible.

and as your fingers strum against pages, near to ripping out expensive paper, tears unceasing, lips bitten 'til bleeding— you learn, and you grow beyond simple comprehension.

motivation, and the drive to uncover all things unsaid, even if the end would result in something negative.

through them, you'll soon learn of spite, of anguish, and bitter contempt.

but for now, you're merely left alone, with only a mantra of words all circling back to dami's words; so many questions left unanswered.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: honestly don't know half of what i wrote + i don't like this as much as i wanted it to come out. this went through multiple revisions with an added fact of me trying to discern why my writing style keeps fluctuating 😭 guys please comment about what you think of this. if this flops, i'm gonna quit writing LMAO. this is a bit more formal than my usual style (re: again & again) because i wanted to capture the regality of the al ghul's family partly told through the perspective of a child.

taglist: @th0rn118, @obsessedwithromance @rogueofbullshit @ch1cky-093, @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd, @confused-they @biiibs01, @ghostdoodlen, @earlqurl, @chericia, @herebyaccident0, @ilovemyhusbandnanami, @mintynilla, @lilyalone, @anonymousdisco, @plsfckmedxddy, @maria-figueiredo, @143637-hrrm, @neerathebrightstar, @jsprien213, @realifezompire, @sammytheotakunerd, @sh4rk-k1d, @confused-they, @peptox, @lillian-morningstar.

[moyazaika]

got the craziest idea. hear me out chat. you know those promises you make with your best friends when you’re both young?? it’s so silly and sweet, but the words ultimately mean nothing—

“promise me if we’re still alone in twenty years, let’s get married to each other.”

“i promise.”

—to you, at least.

you moved on, from not only that promise you made, but the person you made it with as well. you moved away far beyond his reach when you got older and wiser and realised that actually, the way he touched you and spoke to you and promised you he’d kill everyone who looked your way? that wasn’t okay.

and so you left; and he’ll be the first to admit… it worked. for years, he had no idea where you’d gone. he searched desperately, always keeping an eye out for his darling childhood friend, but whilst his life was consumed by your abrupt absence… you had forgotten him entirely.

you’d forgotten all about the sickeningly sweet declarations of his obsessive affection, and the violent threats he’d always make towards anyone who ever so much as spared you a passing glance. at some point, you’d forgotten what it even was that you’d run from in the first place.

well, until he shows up on your front door, twenty years later, with a ring in one pocket, and a pair of handcuffs in the other—

—he’s going to cuff you, one way or another.

just let this be your lesson not to make promises you can’t keep, next time. :)

[kitnightowl]

I feel like Wally has done the classic ‘artist drinking paint water’ by accident while he is in the zone painting.

[sketchquill]

Wally Darling as the Corpse Bride or in this case Corpse Puppet!

[emedeme]

While the world is ending (again), the Hero of Ferelden and his son are on a journey together...

(AKA why the Warden and Kieran are missing, they're somewhere else having their own family adventure)

[bertoyana]

You've never looked more beautiful, darling.

X-Men: First Class (2011) Dir. Matthew Vaughn

[sketchy-tour]

Beta playing pool beta playing pool beta playing pool beta-

ANYWAY! I brain rotted about this idea for a hot minute! Take these beta doodles. Putting them in your hands. Now I can properly beam Beta playing pool into your minds with a visual! Enjoy