#prompt: soulmates
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au where some people see the world in black & white except for when they meet their soulmate
#inuokko#ottoge#inumaki toge#okkotsu yuuta#yuta#inumaki#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#art#inuokko week 2022#day 3#prompt: soulmates#inumaki reading skip to loafer CANON
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Burn Your Name Upon My Skin
Just a short little fic for Willow Wednesday.
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Summary: The name is burned upon her skin, but it’s not the one Kit wants to read.
AKA
The Soulmate AU
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The first time the name is burned upon her skin, Kit had cried out in in pain. She had not known in that moment, that it would have been the least excruciating part of the whole ordeal.
Kit had waited impatiently for the day to pass her by. She had read the same lines in her books, hardly paid attention to her lessons, and fumbled her way through the most elementary of parries and dodges. Blows from the heavy wooden training sword easily landing on her fingers, her arm, her ribs.
//
When the time came to be alone, she had cried tears that burned hot against her face. She screamed into her pillow until her voice was ruined. She had poured herself empty from the sheer anguish.
The name above her heart was not the one she had wanted to read.
Yet it stood there, unchanged. Mocking her..
Read it on AO3
#willow 2022#willow wednesday#kit tanthalos#jade claymore#tanthamore#kit x jade#soulmate AU#my fanfic#prompt: soulmates
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Fandom: The Flash
Characters: Morgan Wells (OC), Eobard Thawne/Harrison Wells (“Eowells”), Tina McGee, Eliza Harmon, James Bennet-Evans (OC), Caitlin Snow, Cisco Ramon
Pairings: Morgan & Thawne, Morgan & Tina, Eliza & Morgan, Caitlin & Morgan, Cisco & Morgan, Morgan/James
Summary:
“Soulmarks are merely an indicator of extra special people in your life...whether friend or lover or anything of the sort. But there's no obligation to act on them…and you can absolutely have close relationships with other people.”
“Do...do you have any?”
He smiled and showed her the one on his left shoulder: a cluster of stars with a golden aura. “It's why I call you Starlight, you know.”
She beamed.
Morgan's known about soulmarks nearly her whole life, and she's known just as long that one of them is her dad's. She should feel lucky, to know such a thing so early—parent-child soulmate matches aren't common and are often auspicious.
So why, instead, does she feel so uneasy?
As usual, thank you to the wonderful @occreatorexchange for hosting this 🥰 this was a fun AU to dip my toes into, and I hope to write more of it in the future!
Taglist (send an ask or DM to be added or removed):
@arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @raith-way @vexic929 @ironverseocs
@thechaoticfanartist @goldheartedchaoticdisaster @negative-speedforce @starstruckpurpledragon @angst-is-love-angst-is-life
#happy crisis day! here’s a fic i managed to finish in time to post today 🥰#ocx prompt bingo#ocx creator bingo#oc creator exchange#prompt: soulmates#morgan wells au what-ifs#mw soulmates au#oc: morgan wells#eobard thawne#eowells#tina mcgee#eliza harmon#oc: james bennet evans#caitlin snow#cisco ramon#the flash
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Day 2 - Soulmates
Tied to You
Summary:
A soulmate is a gift from the Force. Everyone has one, but only Force-sensitive individuals can see the red thread leading to theirs.
Obi-Wan wants to get to know the commander better before telling him of his. He waits and waits, until Cody nearly dies.
@codywanweek
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Cup of love
This Mini-Story is dedicated to @lordoftherazzles's lovely fic Dragonhearted!
Words: 1.6k
Characters: Interviewer, W, Teacup-Ori
Prompt: Soulmates
The woman who wants to remain anonymous and to whom I’ll refer forthwith as “W” sits down in the comfortable armchair provided for that express purpose and looks at me from steady, dark eyes that seem to hold an expression of slight challenge.
After the initial, customary exchange of insipid greetings and void niceties, I encourage her to describe – in her own words – how she’s found herself in such a peculiar situation as to be convinced that her soulmate is in fact a teacup.
Here is what she’s confided to this eminent paper:
I was walking in the woods that lead nowhere in particular, which, in and of itself, is strange because you’d think that a forest like that would surround some stately manor or at least separate two villages. ‘Tis not so in this case; whoever enters this densely overgrown patch of land will invariably find themselves turned around and disoriented.
One has to admit that this peculiar effect has been a source of amusement and merriment amongst the people of my village for many years and so, it has become a habit I cherish greatly.
So, there I was, courageously defying the magic of the dark trees by padding noiselessly through their shadows, not expecting anything untoward or unusual to occur.
Suddenly, something thoroughly unanticipated made me freeze where I stood though. In front of me, not five steps away, lay an abandoned teacup in the snow.
To my surprise, it seemed hale enough! Believing that no wild beast would have any real use for such fine porcelain, I picked it up gingerly.
“Hello,” the cup spoke and I almost dropped it then and there, which – I can only surmise – might have been severely detrimental to its health, as far as one may use such terms for what still seemed to me to be but a piece of expertly fashioned ceramic tableware. “I am Ori.”
Stunned, I stammered out my own name with much less poise and gentility as was warranted by a formal introduction, but the spirit inhabiting the teacup is as gracious as it is kind and so no hard feelings remain from that unsuccessful first meeting.
“Your hands are warm,” he – for it was a male teacup – praised and nuzzled his handle firmly into my palm.
Of course, I asked him all the questions that rose to the forefront of my mind haphazardly. Who was he? What was he? Why could he speak? Where did he come from? Was he magical?
Unfortunately, Ori – the little cup man – was rather cagey about the specifics of his circumstances and merely provided evasive replies such as “My name is Ori, I am evidently a teacup, I was taught to speak by my family as were you, I suspect.”
Alas, he would not divulge how he had come to meet me on my stroll or where he’d return to once our meeting had drawn to an end; moreover, he was rather tight-lipped about the undeniable flavour of a seemingly rather whimsical supernatural power of which the whole thing smacked.
“That sounds fantastical,” I cry out, my eyes bulging out of my head as I stare at the mousy, little woman still sitting in front of me.
“Ha! That is exactly what I said,” W grins and takes a sip of the tea I have supplied; she makes a face on account of the bitterness of the lukewarm beverage, but – loony as she might be – she’s too polite to put her distaste into cutting words.
“And what did he say?” I prompt her, remembering that it is bad form to interrupt the eyewitness account. It has taken too much time to put her at ease to snap her out of her talkative mood by side-tracking her with inane interjections.
She leans back in her chair with an almost handsome smile that illuminates her rather stern mien.
“If you’d let me go on, you’d hear all about it,” she chides with the benevolent severity of a schoolteacher and then continues her account.
“I feel like I’ve fallen into a fairy tale,” I said to him, holding him up to my face and seeing my breath fog up his countenance.
“A retelling of one, more like it,” he quipped, visibly comfortable with being held and handled. “If it pleases you, we could meet again soon? It is time for me to hop back to the secret place I have escaped from for a breath of fresh air, but I’d much enjoy some outside company.”
Now, it is known that my people have always believed in the concept of soulmates. My grandmother – wise and toothless as she has been as long as I can recall – has ever told me that, when you meet the soul that will complete yours, you’ll just know.
There was no flash of lightning and no roll of thunder, but my heart clenched in terrible recognition of the one I was meant to find.
All of this, naturally, might sound rather fanciful to a serious investigator of the hard truths of life, but I am a simple woman who does not presume to doubt beliefs that have been upheld and nurtured by my people for countless centuries.
So, what then was I – lonely, poor, and wretched – to do other than to agree wholeheartedly to seeing Ori, a sentient piece of crockery, at his earliest convenience for another round of fruitless discussions?
“Yes,” I breathed and set him down as carefully as if he was made of glass. Come to think of it, that was not all that far from the truth, and I did well in handling him with the utmost care and respect.
I watched him go, listless, and my whole soul was quivering as a bowstring stretched too far by the reckless hand of an inexperienced archer.
Every day, I’d thus return to the forest in hopes of meeting the enchanted object – quite literally – of all my hopes and dreams once more.
A week after our initial meeting, I had almost convinced myself that there had been no such incident and that it had been but an absurdly detailed fever dream that haunted me now with the aftertaste of the devastating loss of something I had never even possessed to begin with.
Nonetheless, I returned to the woods one last time to mourn the demise of my sanity.
Just as I was about to turn homewards once more, a soft clinking sound resounded, and I spun around to find Ori sliding down the narrow forest path cautiously.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “there was a lot going on…in the secret place. I’ve brought you a drink though!”
I stared down at the pitiful remnant of brownish sludge that had survived his trek through the overgrown bushes and the dense, gnarled roots of the tree sentinels guarding his enigmatic home.
“Am I to lift you to my lips?” I asked, afraid of committing an unforgivable faux pas by simply grabbing a sentient being as if it was indeed but an inanimate kitchen utensil.
“If you want to,” Ori replied breathlessly, a pinkish hue tinging his impeccable glaze all of a sudden. “I fear that the quality of the tea must have suffered a little, but it should still be somewhat wholesome to drink.”
He was kind, you have to understand, and so terribly sweet in his courteous, shy demeanour. To be truthful, I cared very little about the rather subpar tea, containing the odd stray leaf, he offered me; it was of no consequence to me compared to the immense pleasure of holding him in my cupped hands again and lifting his slender, delicate, terrifyingly fragile beauty to my trembling lips and tilting him ever so warily to refresh myself.
Afterwards, I gave him a little bath in the nearby stream – the water was shockingly cold – and we sat and talked for a little while. He would still not tell me about where he had come from and what bound him to that place, but my absurd instinct that he was the One for me solidified, nonetheless.
As insane as that sounds, he seemed to understand me perfectly – humming at the right moments and uttering tinkling peals of laughter at others – and I felt comfortable and cherished in his presence. What does that say about me that it took a cursed item for me to get the sensation that I was being perceived favourably by another soul?
W looks up at me defiantly at this point of her narrative, blinking back tears she visibly refuses to spill in front of such an insensitive audience. “We met up several times after that, stolen moments in the woods far away from our usual cares and worries; it was precious, and I wonder what has kept him lately.”
I admit that I am taken aback by her vulnerability and her frankness, so I look for the right words to say to her; of course, I also wonder whether I should inform her of the ongoing climate of unrest and the riots that would probably break out before long.
“That’s all,” she concludes aggressively and wrings her small, pale hands in her lap. “I met a magical creature, and I might even have had a chance at love in the long run, but now, we might never know.”
Just as I am about to give her some reassuring but empty words of polite solace, a great ruckus resounds outside, and she dives towards the window in a flash of flying hair and trembling limbs.
Flames in the night and an angry mob moving towards her beloved, enchanted forest; I stand transfixed and witness the choked cry of horror that seems to deflate the once proud woman who has just finished telling her story.
“Let’s go,” I say in a mournful voice, taking her by the hand. “Let’s see what all of this is about.”
So, my dear friend, I hope this made you smile!
@fellowshipofthefics I am still at it.
Lots of love
#og post#IDNMT writes#fanfiction#writing#tolkien writing#jrrt#fotfics february bingo#february challenge#prompt: soulmates#hobbit#the hobbit#fic: Dragonhearted#DH my beloved#teacup Ori#Ori#Ori the dwarf#Ori propaganda#interview style#trying new things#read DH
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HJP Week 2023 - Day Five
Prompts
Quidditch
Sex Toys
Soulmates
Prompts - SFW , NSFW , Tropes
Rules & Guidelines - here or here.
AO3: here
If you want the blog to reblog your work, please tag @harryjamespotterweek and #hjpweek2023.
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Prompt:
✨Soulmates!✨
Click here to see everyone's 'soulmate' prompts.
Click here to see all prompts!
#Willow Wednesday#Prompt: Soulmates#WillowWednesday#willow#willow 2022#willow series#willow tv show#Renew Willow
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Soulmates, but with the British meaning of “mate.” Two homies bound by a platonic string of fate.
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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.
#ghostlights#dc x dp#dp x dc#dcxdp#dpxdc#prompt fill#my writing#i dont really know much abt jld so they are not really in here#just duke trying to live his life and have a nice day with bruce#when his soul mate gets thrown at him in the form of an ORB#(ghost core but they dont know that yet)#dannys gonna have to answer so many questions once hes awake bc not many know abt realms beings#its gonna be rough for him bc he's been asleep for 2 years in his core bc he was never safe enough to recover#until duke gave him a boost (plus the power of soulmates really helped him) and he woke up#in a cave with his soulmate and a whole crew of superheroes#what a thing to open ur eyes to. rip danny lol#thanks for the prompt!
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Prompt 45
Hear me out. Danny gets de-aged and thrown into Gotham, everything’s sort of normal there. He’s somewhere between 4 and 6 and absolutely tiny. Looks a little sickly, covered in his death-scars and looks like some sort of fae child or something.
Now it’s Gotham, normally this would mean he’d have gotten kidnapped, gotten stolen from the streets or something. The thing is though, he wasn’t dropped into Gotham all alone.
It’s kind of hard to take a child when there’s a giant eldritch abomination of a knight seemingly living in the kid’s shadow that causes terror with its very presence.
#dcxdp#dpxdc#prompts#danny fenton#fright knight#No one wants to tell Scarecrow#Scarecrow finds out anyway#He has found his soulmate#And there's even a child who is immune to his fear toxin too#Oh no he has to pspspsps this feral child to try and flirt with their father?? Caretaker???#Scarecrow x Fright Knight#Crowknight
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soulmate au where your soulmate's thoughts appear on your skin except your soulmate has adhd and your body becomes a living canvas of nonsensical, never-ending, constantly entertaining trails of thought
#like out of all the soulmate aus i always found the 'thoughts on skin' one most unrealistic#because my damn brain never shuts up! there's no way my soulmate would just be getting one random thought appear on them 😭#imagine your otp#soulmate au#writing prompt#drarry#wolfstar#jegulus#buddie#lestappen#maxiel#landoscar#sebchal#martian#sambucky#sterek#IF ANYBODY WRITES OR FINDS A FIC LIKE THIS FOR ANY OF <<THESE SHIPS PLS PLS SEND MY WAY 🙏
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Over the years Tim had lead, taught and helped countless other teens come into thier powers and said teens looked at him like he hung the stars. They admired him greatly and wanted to do something to make thier mentor/big brother figure proud.
So when they found Tims soulmate they were absolutely ecstatic.
Yeah sure, the guy was the child of evil mad scientists and apparently the heir of a creepy fake vampire supervillian but they'd seen weirder couples in the hero community. They just needed to convince him to join the heros side!
Naturally they try to kidnap Danny and he has no idea whats going on other than a bunch of kids in superhero costumes are trying to abduct him. Between his powers as Phantom, that they seem to not know about (thank the ancients that ghosts don't show up well of pictures and that he started wearing a mask) and his own parents paranoid housebuilding techniques Danny escapes them easily.
Danny figured they would leave him alone eventually, right? If not he would have to call the cops for stalking and harassment.
If that didn't work he would just set all the house lazers to stun. Worst case scenario he might have to call the Justice League emergency line and yell at them to come get thier kids.
It would also be funny if he just kicked them out as Phantom
#dpxdc#fanfiction prompts#prompts#soulmate au#soulmates#danny phantom#danny fenton#red robin#tim drake#braindead#brain dead#the kids are trying okay?#they didnt think to ask#communication failure#they could have just asked i guess#but if hes a villian than telling him any sensitive info would be a bad idea#and they cant exactly lead him to thier hideouts or take him to the watchtower#though it would be hilarious if they successfully kidnap danny to the watchtower WITHOUT knowing hes the child of villians#how much trouble would they get in?#batman: youre the son of villians?#danny: yeah#batman: are *you* a villian?#danny: *makes the hand motion for so-so*
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DPXDC Prompt #128
No one was quite sure what happened, They had gone after Joker and while Batman was hesitant to allow Hood along he had gotten better about his anger and everyone else was busy with other rouges. one second Red Hood had a gun in Jokers face the next, there was a shift in Hood like he wasn’t himself anymore. Unfortunately it finally happened for Hood, his soulmate had reached 20 years of age and the two switched places. The person controlling his body now though was Danny Fenton who happens not to like clowns.
Danny was panicking and not realizing he was holding a gun pulls the trigger causing the Joker the go flying and Danny’s panic to increase 10 fold. He whips his head to get a look at his surroundings and that’s when he panics further and slowly places the gun on the ground and slowly raise his hands into the air. There in front of him was Batman and he knew he was in trouble. Still panicking he squeaked at the dark knight’s approach, “I’m sorry!! I- I guess I’m this guy’s soulmate. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone”
Jason meanwhile wasn’t fairing any better. He was pissed the clown was right in front of him and he was so close! He was in this scrawny body, his soulmate happened to be in Gotham but by the looks of it, he was in rough shape, a small fever was forming and it seemed like he had bandages wrapped around his torso. Jason doesn’t know what happened to him but he’s taking him to Alfred, he wasn’t going to let his soulmate bleed out in an alley even if he did have the worst timing.
Part 1 :
#dp x dc prompt#dp x dc#dc x dp#danny fenton#danny phantom#writing prompt#poor danny#Jason and Danny are soulmates#dead on main#soulmates au#danny kills the joker#body swap#my asks are open#all my prompts are free to use
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Ok kinda funny/a bit angsty idea danny has a soulmate mark that shows how your soulmate is doing in the alive injured critical dead sense when the soulmate dies the mark goes black
Now Danny's mark has been through most/all the phases he was a bit worried about the dead part but they came back so he's not that worried
Danny's soulmate on the otherhand a batfam member is freaking the fuck out every single day his soulmate dies amd comes back to life what the hell if wrong with his soulmate that he can keep coming back to life
Basically when danny transforms to phantom his mark registers him as dead and the bat family are freaking out because one of their members soulmate has died like 63 times this week what the hell is up with him
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp#dp x dc prompt#I'm trying to leave it open as to which batfam member it could be#but I'm just envisioning all the times they are freaking the fuck out because their soulmate died for the 5th time today#meanwhile danny is using his powers to float up to a high shelf
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Tim knew his soulmate's eye color was blue. He'd known since he'd been very small. It was the only color he'd be able to see until he met his soulmate.
At least, he thought that was how it would work until he woke up from a nap and couldn't see blue any more. According to the color swatch photo he found online, he was now seeing green.
#dp x dc#dc x dp#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp prompt#it would be funny if he thought that his soulmate was Jason for a while since his eyes sometimes turn green#soulmate au#soulmate eye color au
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DP X DC Prompt: Conspiracy Cryptids - Soultouch
Soulmate bonds were looked upon as a blessing. For they were rare and few and far between.
With the added presence of extraterrestrial lifeforms, there was a guarantee that it made it even more difficult to find any potential Soulmate that someone might have.
And of course, not all Soulmate bonds were the same, most differing in variety. The point being, it was very difficult to find one's soulmate if one did have them.
However, the media stated that it was always worth the effort. Soulmate bonds always worked out, either that be platonically or romantically, soulmates would be with each other for life.
So, what exactly did one do if their soulmate kept dying over and over again?
Tim, Bernard, Danny, and Wes all shared a soulmate bond. A touch-bond based Soulbond. They could feel anything their soulmate physically came into contact with. Skin on skin. And they could also feel any injuries their soulmate acquired.
Which, wasn't inherently an issue.
At first, the group couldn't actually tell how many soulmates they had once they realized what the soulbond was. The general consensus amongst them all was that they at least had more than one soulmate.
Danny didn't look to deeply into it. Wes and Bernard had been curious but had also left the detail alone. And Tim was the one that had been the one that had actually spent hours upon hours of sleepless nights trying to figure out just how many he had.
(He had even learned morse code in the hopes of communicating with his soulmates, but not being able to actually get his soulmates to do the same thing had more or less ruined the point.)
Everything, other than that, had been fine for the most part. Besides the general occasional scraps and bruises, everything had been fine. That was a normal occurrence amongst a touch-bond based Soulbond.
And then, Tim Drake became Robin at thirteen years old. And the injuries got a bit more severe. They were much more serious.
This started Bernard down the path of looking into Gotham's vigilante's. It was no secret that Batman took on Young prodigies, that other heroes at times would do the same. With the injuries his soulmate was receiving, Bernard began his search.
Danny and Wes had considered that their soulmate might be apart of an abusive household. But besides hugging themselves, they couldn't add much for comfort.
And then, Danny died when he was fourteen. His end of the bond going quiet. Tim, Bernard, and Wes all assumed one of their soulmates had died. That was until Danny's end of the bond came back as if nothing had happened. Sometimes with even more bruises they didn't feel happen originally, or completely unharmed.
Tim and Bernard assumed their soulmate was in the hospital, going in-between life and death. Tim doing more than a few illegal things in an attempt to find one of his soulmates. Wes had thought the same until he had saw Phantom bleed once. Noticed how Phantom always appeared when that end of the bond went quiet and was nowhere to be seen when it came back. He drove himself insane looking for Phantom.
Danny decidedly, did not in fact know of the frenzy he was putting his soulmates through. Or the fact that he was apart of making his soulmates as insane as they are about their conspiracy theories.
#danny fenton#dc universe#dp x dc#dp x dc au#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc prompt#dps fandom#Tim drake#conspiracy cryptids#bernard dowd#wes weston#soulmates#soulmate au
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