#longer meta coming soon

[wingedblooms]

Three sisters for the faces of the Mother.

In acowar, we learned that three stones represent the faces of the Mother in scrying (which is what some do to access magical sight, like seers):

The three Archeron sisters seem to represent the three faces of the Mother like the sacred sister peaks.

As the first face of the Mother, Feyre healed the Cauldron and the rip in the world with Rhysand’s mighty magic.

As the second face of the Mother, Nesta healed Feyre and Nyx with the Trove.

[…]

[…]

And as the third face of the Mother, Elain is perfectly poised to heal Wyrd and her sacred land in body and spirit with her gentle, gardener hands. Like the green hands cupping the lake in the healing land.

Where ordinary faeries who prefer solitude still dwell. Where the heart of the land slumbers.

Where the mountains watched and the rivers guided Nesta to the source of healing.

An earthen mirror of the gardener, whose iron crown from Wyrd is covered in sleeping buds. Her sweet and delicate scent—a promise of spring, a sparkling river—even guides Nesta to the source.

Elain, glowing with health. Warm and bright and lovely just like the pure life in healing magic. ✨

[sweetandglovelyart]

Knightfall in Dream Land - Page 9

Meta learns that he is a Star Warrior, decides to stay on Popstar, and prepares to duel the king of Dream Land.

[todayisafridaynight]

We’re having an emergency meeting to discuss Chris Johnson and the whitest name ever

absolutely fitting for our white man now innit

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 15

Hood remained silent, even as he clenched the gun tightly in his hand. He hadn't even seen a hint of green portals or blond elfs but 200 witnesses couldn't all be wrong.

All of them had stated that a white haired meta with a gas mask was working with a blond elf with a leaf mask and that they had been the ones kidnapping the kids and teens of Gotham.

Jason had heard stories of fairies snatching kids and infants, sometimes swapping them out with a sickly one of thier own. But there were no trades that Jason knew of. Only missing kids.

Hell, all of the biggest child gangs around Crime Alley and the Narrows were gone.

As in gone gone. Not a single member was left nor any trace of where they could have been taken to. As much as he hated to admit it, he might need to ask for help from the Justice League Dark...

---

Link stared down at the kids from his rooftop perch.

They looked...cleaner. Happier. They had gained a healthy amount of weight, no longer stick thin and weak looking. They had season appropriate clothing without holes and others hidden away in chests and armours for the coming seasons far off from now.

His spirit friend, Phantom, had panicked a bit after he realized what they were doing was trafficking, but calmed down once he pointed out that these kids would have a much better life in Hyrule than they would have had in the rotting trashpit that was Gotham.

If they would have lived much longer at all

Still, thier presence here was mutually beneficial. Hyrule had lost over 80% of its population in the Great Calamity and they were no where close to regaining the population they once had. All of thier forts, training areas, ect were specifically targeted and destroyed in the attacks and gardians and monsters were left in the ruins to ensure they could not rebuild what was lost

Which led to the bigger issues at hand. All the empty occupations.

The castle, and thus castle town, were ground zero for the disaster that wiped out the Hylian peoples. With it many businesses and trades were lost. Hyrule had few soldiers and those they did have desperately needed armor, weapons and training.

That wasn't all. Hudson construction had attempted to repair Castle town and eventually the castle, but they were wood workers, not stone masons. They knew little of the craft that was needed.

There were lessons and information in the castle archives covering most of the jobs and trades, as well as how to proform them, but the princess didn't see it as a priority. They didn't have the people necessary to teach these crafts and the castle and town surrounding wasn't really a priority anyway. Not with all the people who still needed help around the kingdom.

Phantom helped a lot too. Other than helping them build towns for the kids (the child gangs actually really liked having a town all to themselves) he did a lot of other random jobs around the kingdom, much like Link himself.

Unfortunately, his next trip to Gotham lead to a run in with the "Red Hood" and the phrase, "Was that a fucking fruit grenade?!" Link did not know what the word "Fucking" meant but the Hood man would not tell him. He is learning a lot of new words from this guy, words that Phantom appearently didn't like cause he loudly scolded Red Hood like a naughty child the first time they met. It was hilarious to see this tiny 15 year old tell off a giant tank of a man.

Link couldn't see the mans expression due to the odd red helm the man wore, but he could tell he was cowed, even if just a bit. Then he began speaking to someone who wasn't there while pressing his finger to the side of his helm where his ear should be. Is Red Hood ill? Does he have a mind sickness like the ones Phantom told him of when describing his parents? Or is this something Link doesn't yet understand...either way he doesn't think he's getting more children for Hyrules future in this trip...or anytime soon if those ominous masked people landing on the rooftops around them had any say in the matter.

[tachiguin]

Is Tanizaki really more evil than Dazai?

I don’t think I’ve ever written a longer meta about “Tanizaki is the person who comes the closest to “evil” among all the Detective Agency employees”, which is something Asagiri mentions at a BSD Exposition, but I do have a lot of thoughts about it. I think the most popular reaction to this statement is ‘more than Dazai?!’ which is fair. Because Dazai is a former Port Mafia executive and has a rap sheet longer than Tetchou’s saber. But I think there’s multiple angles at which you can tackle this: The qualifier being “among all the [ADA] employees”, what makes someone more evil than another, how you define ‘evil’. 

The easiest way to justify this if you firmly believe that Dazai is more evil than Tanizaki is to separate PM!Dazai from ADA!Dazai. Say that PM!Dazai is more evil than ADA!Tanizaki, who is more evil than ADA!Dazai, who after Oda’s death promised to be on the side that saves people. Current Dazai is making an active effort to be less evil than he may have the potential to be, and that counts for something. Whereas Tanizaki knowingly throws all pretenses of being a good guy out the window as soon as someone he cares for is put in danger. 

Though, I raise a further question: if PM!Dazai is more evil than ADA!Tanizaki, who is more evil than ADA!Dazai, would PM!Tanizaki be more or less evil than PM!Dazai? Perhaps we will get our answer if Tanizaki does end up transferring to the Port Mafia.

However, I also don’t necessarily want to shut down this discussion by just saying “Well Dazai is in the ADA now, he was definitely more evil when he was a PM executive”. It feels like a cop-out. Rather, I think that depending on how you define ‘evil’, you can definitely argue that Tanizaki is far worse than Dazai. Is it evil to be indifferent to committing evil acts, or is it evil to situationally want to commit evil acts? Is it evil to be aware of one’s moral faults, or is it evil to think oneself innocent—normal, even—as one is willing to do any atrocity under the right circumstances. Honestly, we can argue morality and try to assign quantitative values to “evil” back and forth, all day until we die. There’s really no “correct” answer here. But for the point I’m making that’s good enough. Depending on how you view “evil”, you could easily see how Tanizaki is closer to evil than Dazai, who never really saw a real difference between evil and good.

I think one of the most ‘evil’ things about Tanizaki is that he thinks he’s normal, with his whole chest. He’s the first person to suggest murder as a solution to a problem, and he just doesn’t understand why everyone else shows reluctance.

He seems to have some vague awareness that his morality is somewhat less than that of his coworkers, as in the Light Novel he thinks that he “[has] a mediocre sense of justice]”, but he mostly equates this to just being cowardly and timid, rather than the full blown self-awareness than we see in Dazai, who is able to articulate to Oda that he feels there is no real difference between the side of “good” and the side of “evil”, and embraces this knowingly.

I also think that to a degree its Asagiri's nihilism at play. Because BSD is a world full of characters with shifty morals, and characters like Kunikida who cling to their principles like a lifeline are a minority. So in a way? Tanizaki is the most ordinary guy.

And he’s not evil on purpose, or performative about it (like other characters, to a certain degree, like Fyodor) it’s completely ingrained into him. It's just that he isn’t a good person, but he’s not necessarily invested in being a bad person either. He simply cares about himself and the people within his circle, to the point that he doesn’t care what he has to do for their sake. I think this is also something that appears subtly in his irl counterpart’s works: the idea of love/affection as evil. Tanizaki-sensei used this kind of oxymoron a lot: ugliness and beauty, hurt and pleasure, destruction and love.

"[his] self-immolation, [...] with which he changed his whole life in an instant, turning the ugly into the beautiful, [...] it was very nearly the act of a saint." — Tanizaki Jun'ichirou, A Portrait of Shunkin

"Little by little, the loathsomeness changed into an unfathomable beauty." — Tanizaki Jun'ichirou, A Fool's Love (Naomi)

"It was evil incarnate, without any question, and at the same time it was all the beauty of her body and spirit elevated to its highest level." — Tanizaki Jun'ichirou, A Fool's Love (Naomi)

Maybe that’s why Tanizaki is closer to evil than Dazai. Because ‘evil’ is second nature to Tanizaki, in part because it goes hand and hand with love and care.

I don’t think Tanizaki’s “evil” could be reasoned with, in the same way you might be able to convince Dazai or Mori not to do something awful. Because Dazai’s evil is ruled by indifference, and Mori’s evil is ruled by logic, they’re both less personally invested in their evil acts than Tanizaki, whose evil is ruled by emotion. You might be able to give Mori a reason why the more logical approach would be to not commit a homicide, but the same reasoning would never work on Tanizaki, because his evil is coming from a more fundamental desire to commit the morally corrupt action, rather than seeing it as a means to an end. In this regard, you could easily see how Tanizaki is closer to evil.

Still, returning to my point about how nebulous the definition of “evil” is—you could also argue that it’s more evil to coldly commit evil acts as a means to an end, as opposed to doing evil acts out of love or affection for another person. However, I think it’s clear why Asagiri made a statement that implied Tanizaki to be more morally corrupt than Dazai, regardless of whether you agree or not.

[fukcnoplease]

Things Always Go Wrong Pt3

Pt1 Pt2 Pt4 Pt5

Gotham was truly testing her abilities. Usually she could vibe check the building and be good but the vibes of Gotham were rancid everywhere she went. Every building and street had some varying level of unsafe and she could feel Danny slowing behind her. He wasn't going to stay on his feet for much longer. Thankfully there were plenty of alleys they could probably hide in and even though it was already midmorning the thick smog on the city made it look like the dawn had only just broken. The alleys were still dark and as soon as she paused at the back of the alley she felt Danny collapse into her. His breathing was ragged and he was slick with sweat. She tried vibrating her core at him and the response she got was uncoordinated and harsh. It was as if two things were trying to respond to her, attempting to drown each other out.

“Shit.” she said. Jazz would be mad for her language, you know, if she didn't kill her for killing her brother. 

“Found you, wretch.” A voice said and Dani shot up into a fighting stance. The entrance of the alley was blocked by five people, all dress head to toe in white and aiming several weapons at them. They were all men and significantly bigger than her. That would be fine in her ghost form but transforming in front of them was risky.

Danny groaned from the cold alley floor and Dani grimaced. She growled, inhumane and low, and punched her palm as she went ghost. Showing her transformation was a small price to pay to protect Danny and they probably had her, or Danny’s, ecto-signature if they had managed to follow them cross state lines so accurately. 

Their weapons hummed as they charged and Dani caught a glimpse of color above them. Praying she had seen right she took in a breath and shouted her words.

“I am the princess of the Infinite Realms. Any harm that comes to me is a direct attack on the entire dimension of the Infinite Realms and cause for a war between our worlds!” Internally she cringed at her words but she prayed they had the right effect. 

“Ha! Like you could fool us, you manipulative ecto-sum! You’re coming with us. If you're lucky you might even make it in one piece” The leader, she assumed as he was standing at the front of the group, said. She tensed in case her gamble went south and prepared for something to hit her. 

Thankfully she didn't feel anything and a yellow hero came crashing down on the agents with a ferocity she wasn't expecting. He used what she thought were escrima sticks but they were connected together with a long wire and looked modified. He downed the panicked agents in seconds and turned to Dani. Unconscious agents littered around him.

His sudden movements made her drop into a defensive stance and he froze. Gently putting away his weapons as he raised his hands to show he meant no harm.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I was just trying to help.” The man paused as he looked over the two disheveled siblings. The white haired girl was glaring at him but looked more wary than aggressive and the dark haired boy on the floor looked incredibly ill. “Would it be ok if I helped you? I can call some friends and we can get you to a safe space.”

Dani stared the man down. He could fight, and right now she wasn't confident she could take him. Not while protecting a very incapacitated Danny. He had a black bat symbol on his chest which was good but also bad. Good because Batman was a hero and helped those in need. Bad because Batman was famous for not liking metas and while she and Danny weren’t metas she doubted Batman would care enough to make the distinction. Hopefully if she played up the royalty bit she could get maybe some leeway.

“Ok, bumblebee, but I want you to promise you wont hurt me or my… ambassador,” Danny was going to be so mad when he woke up, “or I will bring the entire Infinite Realms down on this world.” She did her best to sound threatening and maybe using some energy to make herself scarier but she wouldn't admit it.

“Of course, your… highness?” Bumblebee asked. Dani frowned, she didn't like ‘your highness’ but she couldn't give her actual name…

“You can call me… Elle.” She felt her insides crumple up at how cringey that name felt and she was very glad Danny was out cold for this conversation. The bumblebee hero nodded and said something into what she assumed was an earpiece. After a few minutes of discussion he went quiet and began watching the roofs. Dani floated off the ground slightly, trying to see what he was looking for. She didn't notice the surprise that flitted across his face at her show of power or the silent black hero who landed gracefully beside Bumblebee. 

“Hey Black Bat. Can you help me gather these guys up? Batman should be en route but might take a minute to get here.” Bumblebee said. Dani whipped around to see the new hero, black bat apparently, silently working her way through the knocked out GIW.

“Batman is coming?” Dani asked, anxiety making her fidget with her hands. That wasn't good. She couldn't pretend to be a princess around him, he could practically smell lies, or fear, and maybe she could be the princess of the Infinite Realms but she wasn't officially! Not yet at least. And Danny definitely wasn't her ambassador. Shit, maybe if she played up with the sad little girl image? Batman was known to take pity on kids… or was that one of his allies. She should’ve listened in on the conversation the bumblebee had had earlier, maybe she would have had something to work with then.

Black bat and bumblebee worked together to tie up the GIW and leave them in an easily accessible spot for when the police came around. Black bat touched bumblebees bicep and he looked up to see the scary shadow of Batman looming over the alley. Dani notices him too and landed in front of Danny, spreading her arms to block him from Batman's view as he landed beside the other heroes.

“Report.” Was all he said as he looked over the scene. His gaze lingered on the unconscious boy and Dani had to resist growling at him, in case that ruined her case for receiving help. Bumblebee took a breath and nodded.

“I found these two as they were about to be attacked by a group of people,” he gestured to the tied up men in white, “it looked like meta trafficking and I stepped in. Elle,” he gave a smile to Dani who cringed internally, “gave the men fair warning about their attack being against royalty and at risk of ruining dimensional relations, they refused to back off.”

Batman responded with a noncommittal ‘hn’ and narrowed his eyes at Dani who prickled under the gaze.

“For the record,” Bumblebee added, a little hesitant, “I believe her.”

Batman nodded and took a step closer to Dani and this time she did growl. The man stopped and regarded her. She glared back. He wasnt coming near her or Danny. Not in his state.

“Would you like to come with us?” Was all batman said. Stern and quiet. Dani didn't move, she looked over Batman’s unmoving face and then back at the bumblebee and black bat. The bumblebee hero looked worried but more for Batman than Dani and the black bat seemed relaxed as she watched.

“Where are you going to take us?” Dani asked. Batman frowned slightly and Dani worried he would just try and grab them. 

“A place where we can keep you safe and confirm your royal status,” he said. Dani didn't really like the sound of that but she could feel Danny getting worse and she was running out of time to make a decision. When he chose that exact moment to let out a pained groan Dani almost smacked him. Batman’s frown deepened and Dani felt her throat bob.

“We might even be able to help your friend.” He offered.

“My ambassador,” She corrected, if she was gonna sell this she had to go all out, “And I don't want you to lay a hand on him.”

Batman gave her the slightest, stiffest nod she had ever seen and she relaxed. Batman nodded to the other heroes and black bat vanished, bumblebee paused before leaving himself. Dani felt her anxiety come back threefold at being left alone with the big bad bat but in a few seconds a fancy black bat shaped car skidded to a halt outside the alley. In the passenger seat was the familiar bumblebee, he grinned and waved at them. Batman stared at him in what Dani thought could be disapproval but said nothing. The doors to the suped up car popped open and bumblebee stepped out.

“You can get in the back seat. Do you need help with your ambassador?” He said as he stepped back into the alley. Dani shook her head and Batman made a grumbling sound.

“Signal.” he said. Bumblebee, signal apparently, shrugged and continued towards Dani until she stiffened.

“I just wanted them to have a familiar face so the journey wasn't too stressful. Black bat and Spoiler are covering me while I stick with them.” He said, smiling at Batman and then turning back to Dani. He moved to help her pick Danny up but she shook her head at him and he stepped back. Batman made another ‘hn’ sound before retreating to the driver seat of the car. 

Dani moved Danny around and picked him up by throwing him over her shoulder. He wasn't heavy but he was bigger than her and it made him difficult to carry. Signal, she preferred bumblebee, hovered around her but was careful not to touch Danny as she carried him to the car. They managed to get Danny securely in the back seat of the batcar and Dani slid in next to him. He looked worse. Maybe moving him wasn't the smartest idea but Dani didn't know what else to do. If the GIW had their ecto-signature there wasn't a safe place to hide. Maybe Batman would be able to protect them but it would only last so long. She pushed aside her fears and gripped Danny’s too warm hand. The scenery went passed too quickly for her to see and the drive was silent. She was starting to hate road trips.

~~

This is short but the next one is gonna be LONG I got distracted anyway I love that people are enjoying this, i like writing it :)

[absolutebl]

TOP 10 BL Trends of 2023

This is just me with my analysis hat on. 

1. 2023 = the year EVERYONE went outside their lanes

Everything went topsy-turvy this year in BL. 

For example, Korea gave us agonized yearning and outright queerness (The 8th Sense, The New Employee) while Japan served up soft office workers and tender family (Our Dining Table). 

The BL world went askew for a while, especially in the spring of 2023. 

Not that we still didn’t still get Korea’s soft angsty bubbles or Japan’s “what are you doing and why does it hurt?” kink-fests. But there were quite a few BLs that made us chronic watchers sit up in confusion and wonder if Korea was dabbling in Taiwan’s territory or Japan in Thailand’s. Then they fudged the kisses and we were like... okay, back in familiar territory. 

In contrast, Thailand stayed course-correcting for the damage they’ve done in the past with tropes (2022) and self referential meta criticism (2021), but also almost aggressively returned to their BL roots after last year’s series of shockers. Certainly, they are reexamining those roots, transplanting some, aerating others. But they really went back to classic Thai university and high school BL and pulps in a big way in 2023. 

Taiwan is always difficult to gage because they produce so few but they seem to have stuck with what they do best with no deviation while producing more this year than they have in ages. I’m happy for that, why change a good thing? But there is a tiny part of me that really wants them to hit it out of the part with a quality piece soon. For me, We Best Love still reigns supreme, but I would really like the HIStory franchise to give us that level but longer - like a happy version of Your Name Engraved Herein. I think Taiwan has the chops to give us something as good as The 8th Sense or Old Fashion Cupcake but in their style, and I would like to see them exercise their talent for good rather than just profit. 

I know, what a very odd thing for me to say. But if any BL is going to break into the mainstream American market, I genuinely think it’s most likely come from Taiwan. 

Vietnam and the Philippines are falling behind, in general. They just didn’t bring out very many shows in 2023, and what the brought out tended to fub the endings. This is forgivable in Japan (because of their style and quality) but not what watchers want in the lower production value propositions. In other words, if you do a pulp, you can’t mess up the ending (by romance standards). that doesn’t look to be changing anytime soon. 

2. The Office Romance Dominated

After years of Thailand serving us an endless (and slightly bland) buffet of university (and a few high school) BLs, this year Korea was basically like...

Ofiice. We like the Office. It’s cheap to film we can use grown up actors, acting (mostly) their actual age. 

And yeah... it totally worked. 

To be fair, Japan has always given us office live action yaoi from the beginning (they had the source material) but this year everyone else, including Thailand, seriously started playing in this setting. 

3. Boys Danced with Boys

The darling @heretherebedork​ was a big fan of this one, and I rather like it myself. Prior to this boys dancing together was very very rare in BL, but this year we got way more than our fair share. It was lovely. 

Never Let me Go

My School President 

Bed Friend 

The Day I Loved You 

Step by Step

Be Mine Superstar

Tie the Not 

Dangerous Romance

I think there were a few more. These are the ones I remembered to write down. 

4. Getting (even more) Meta With Tropes 

BL has been getting more and more meta over the past few years but this year they really focused in on tropes specifically. Calling out their own biggest and most favorite tropes in a massive way, especially Thailand and especially GMMTV. 

Like they tunneled in on damaging tropes with Bad Buddy and the like over the past 2 years, and now they are just having fun with us. 

I mean they just started the dancing trope and already they are calling it out? That’s like rapid-fire regurgitated meta there, GMMTV. 

5. Cameos are the norm now 

Taiwan has always loved cameos but in the past the other countries have been show and steady with only one or two a year. (Unless Japan does a parody.) 

This year Korea got in on the game.

Korea rarely starts trends but they do adopt smaller and lesser known existing ones and make them super popular. 

This year they did that with cameo couple appearances, even borrowing a few of Thailand’s pairs (TutorYim and MaxNat traveled north). They did it so much I stopped tracking. Love Class 2, Why R U?, and Jun & Jun were the heaviest hitters. 

Taiwan, of course, came back swinging. Kiseki was the gum-ball machine of pair cameos. (In Taiwan mafia = gay.) 

6. We are entering the cross pollination age

The number of remakes picked up or started this year was startling, not just countries revisiting their own content (Thailand, Japan) but countries revisiting OTHER countries stuff.

Lemme explain...

Korea has started remaking Thai content (Why R U?) alongside cameo'ing Thai pairs.

Thailand is doing Korean IP (My Dear Gagster Oppa) and has 2 Chinese ones slated for next year. 

GMMTV acquired a lot of Japanese IP (Cherry Magic, Ossen, and My Love Mix Up) - and then had problems distributing it. 

This is probably the most surprising trend for me. Especially the Japanese stuff. I would have thought these properties well outside of Thailand's price range (even GMMTV's) not to mention Japan’s legendary IP issues (I swear I typed this pout before the pulled TayNew’s excellent Cherry Magic). 

Also why not option some of the older popular manga instead? Bet that's much cheeper. (I did see a NEW Thai translation of Finder into Thai, which is 90s yaoi, so I have my fingers crossed on that front.)

I shouldn't be too surprised. 

Thailand is running out of y-novel content. Their publication industry is just not robust enough (I was just talking to a friend about this at length recently). But I didn't think they had the funds to option, especially from Japan. 

Perhaps the option deals are for peanuts?

7. Korea got cheeky

I’m not sure quite how else to put this. 

After finally figuring out boys can kiss, Korea started to do not just higher heat but playful higher heat, with more aggressive word play and linguistic innuendo, like they are entering their racy rom-com teenage years (Why R U? Love Class 2 and Jun & Jun in particular.) 

I guess: Welcome to your BL teens, Korea? 

It’s cute of them. I am very much enjoying it. 

And now that comedy is warming them up, we get to see them play with actual queer burgeoning physicality in shows like The 8th Sense. 

It’s nice. I like seeing Korea stretch its wings. They still stick to their bubble, but that bubble seems to be expanding. 

8. The Amnesia Trope is back

And I, for one, would prefer to forget about it. 

9. BL got trendy 

I’m not quite sure how to articulate this category but basically we started seeing a lot of “modern” romance trends out of the west (like a/b/o) show up in our BL. Not a ton and sometimes quite small, but there has a been a steady rise of things like: no seme/uke, femme gay, out gay, condom use, messy gay. 

We also got an increasing range of sub genre frameworks (like mafia, office setting) that’s moved BL pretty firmly (even in Thailand) out of school and into the workplace, whether actual working is involved or not. 

It’s not to the point where it feels like we get more non-school BL than school BL (if I include all countries in this assessment).

Japan, in classic Japanese fashion, quietly started moving in the opposite direction. It’s what they do. 

10. The Vampires are coming 

This is an announcement trend, which I don’t usually report on but it’s so CLEAR. 

So last year we had a spate of announcements of possible Omegaverse (2 from China, 1 from Japan, 1 from Thailand - the only one that’s happened). 

This year we got 5 Vampire (or vampire-esk) Thai BLs announced including one from GMMTV. 

Whether all 5 will actually get made is unlikely, but having had (basically) none prior to this (Kissable Lips), I’m pretty confident that we will get at least 2 of them. And I wouldn’t be surprised if at least one other country made one as well. (Side eyes Taiwan with interest.) 

Final thoughts

It feels like we are also seeing a decline in BL (both by quantity and quality) from Vietnam and the Philippines. As you all know, I don’t track or really watch either of these two very closely. But it feels like, now, no one else is either. 

I think we have likely seen the BL heyday already in both places and their industries are now on the decline. 

We might be witnessing a thinning in the players in the BL field. 

FYI we had approximately 

136 BLs in 2023

Previous Years

2022: 117

2021: 95

2020: 62

2019: 40

2018: 30 

2017: 44 (China’s last gasp)

2016: 27

2015: 17 (50% micro)

2014: 17 (50% micro)

And that’s it! Let me know in the comments if you’ve spotted any additional trends you want to call out.

Last year, 2022′s trend report

2021′s Trend report

Last Year’s Stats & Predictions

(source) 

[fishofthewoods]

Oh my god I woke up this morning and my Stardew Valley meta post had almost 150 notes????? Hello?????????? Anyways I started writing this last night because @moon-is-pretty-tonight left nice tags on the original so thank you so much!!

We know from the starting scenes of the game that the farmer's grandfather loved Stardew Valley. So why did he leave? Pelican Town is a good place to grow old; George and Evelyn are just fine. It's a fine place to raise a kid, but maybe he just wanted to raise his child closer to real schools and other children.

Or maybe, just maybe, he understood.

Was there a day when he was in his thirties where he looked at his friends and realized they weren't like him? That he could run faster than them, work longer, explore deeper into the hidden places of the valley?

Was there a day when he went to the wizard to ask him for help, for knowledge if nothing else? Did he learn then that his family was different? Special? Chosen? And how did he react? He couldn't possibly raise a child in the valley if they would be as strange and fey as him. He had to leave. There was no other way.

But years later, on his deathbed, did he regret that choice?

Is that why he gave the farmer the letter?

Is that why they went back home?

When the farmer steps off the bus that first day, the valley is still on the cusp of winter, just barely tipping over into spring. The flowers are starting to bloom, but a chill still hangs in the air. As soon as the farmer's boots touch the soil there's a change. The air gets warmer. The trees get greener. Not by too much, not all at once, but it changes.

The junimos watch the farmer as they do their work. They're new to farming, but take to it with frightening speed; their first batch of crops is perfect. None of the townsfolk tell them that parsnips don't normally grow in less than a week, that cauliflowers don't grow to be ten feet tall, that fairies don't visit when the sun goes down and grow potatoes and beans and tulips overnight. The junimos talk amongst themselves in their strange, wild language, and agree: this is the one. They're back. The valley recognizes its own, even when they've left for a generation. The farmers have come home.

Things change fast in the valley. The community center, empty and decrepit for so many years, is rejuvenated. (Lewis says it was abandoned only a few weeks after the farmer's grandfather left. Strange coincidence, he says, that it both came and went with the farmer's family.) The mines and the quarry, similarly abandoned, are explored for the first time in ages. The town becomes cleaner, brighter, more vibrant, happier.

And it is happier. Not just the environment, but the people. It's the talk of the town for weeks when Haley does her first closet purge. Leah's art show in the town square is a huge success. Shane's smiling for the first time since he moved to the valley. All of them, when asked, say it's all thanks to the farmer.

People love to ask why Lewis didn't fix the community center on his own. Why Willy never repaired the boat to ginger island. Why Abigail or Marlon never went down to fix the elevator in the mines, or why Clint didn't fix the minecarts.

But isn't it so much more interesting to ask how those things were there in the first place? How they got so broken down? If the stories the townspeople tell are true, the valley was once a beautiful place, flourishing and full of life; why did that change? When did it change?

Was it when the farmer's grandfather, the locus of the valley, its chosen representative, left town?

And if so, what happens when the farmer comes back?

[the-kirby-movie]

ATTENTION KIRBY FANS!

Do you want to see a Kirby movie more than anything, but Nintendo keeps letting you down? Well, today's your lucky day! I'm in the process of creating my very own, fanmade Kirby movie based off of Star Allies - and I'd like your help. I believe that with the efforts of a community coming together to work on this passion project and give something that we love our all, it will turn out better than anything official that they could come out with. Overall, while this project is serious to me and something that I am very dedicated to, I also want it to be fun and for everybody to have a good time creating this art together. If you do decide to jump on and help, there's no need to worry about deadlines or stress or needing to have a ton of skill. But, without further ado....

Animators

I'm looking for people that have experience working in Blender here. Pretty much any skill level is okay, though I will still request that you show me some sort of example (just to verify that you know how the application works at all, basically). Ideally I'd like to have enough people working on this that I could step back from leading the animation, eventually, and focus fully on writing/storyboarding and other design aspects instead - but I understand that this might be unrealistic.

Storyboarding

The more the merrier! Regardless of the level of your art skill or your style, if you can sketch out scenes in a way that's decipherable to others, you're more than welcome here.

Voice Acting

The big one. Voice actors for Kirby, Meta Knight, King Dedede, and Bandana Waddle Dee would be very much appreciated. I also have a longer list of characters that need voices that includes many of the Dream Friends, Hyness, the Mage Sisters, and more. This is the one thing I will likely be a little picky on, and require you to audition for the role.

Writers

Honestly, I'm not looking for many other writers right now. I think I have it mostly under control, but I could possibly take one or two co-writers on with me.

Sound Effects/Miscellaneous

Do you think you have something to bring to the table that I didn't list before? Great, this is for you! Let me know what you want to do, and honestly, I doubt I'll have any reason to turn you away. Whether it's stitching music and effects together, editing extra graphics, or literally whatever you think will be helpful, tell me so that I can get you in.

Community

If none of that sounds like something you'd be interested in, well, you can still do something to help. Just stick around here! Throughout development I'll be posting updates, questions, and polls about decisions on this blog for you to influence. I want this to be something that the community creates together and can enjoy together. By us, for us, you know? And everyone who wants to deserves to be involved.

- Closing -

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! This blog will likely be changing a lot in the upcoming days as I update and personalize it to be more effective. I also now have a discord server! Anyways, though, the long and short of it is that I'd love to work on this with other people but I will complete it, no matter what. So this is your official guarantee - sometime, in the indiscriminate future, you will have a Kirby movie. And I hope you enjoy it just as much as I'll enjoy making it, because honestly, this is just my dream. I hope I see you around, and have a great day!

progress as of 8/15/24: trailer scripted and (mostly) storyboarded. possibly starting animation soon!

[luckyfox3000]

DC X DP PROMT #7

Lo' Kits! New promt!

Jason's been having weird dreams.

He dreams of a realm in green, small weird green blobs floating around, and strange creatures and people.

He feels like he knows what it is, that he left somthing or someone important there.

He can never properly remember how it looks when hes awake, but sometimes, when he relaxes, when he just takes in the fact his heart is beating, hes alive, he hears a soft voice whispering in his ear.

The voice sounds like a young boy, with a carefree laugh. He finds himself wondering who it could be.

For some reason when he thinks about the boy behind the voice he feels a strange sense of protectiveness and longing.

He never talk about the dreams, never mentions them to anyone.

They feel private, and important, like something just for him.

He never thinks about if the dreams could be real, if the cheerful and lively voice is a person. Never until he no longer just hears it in his dreams, and the whispers of his mind.

Theres a new case, one with a "ghost".

They found a possible meta in Gotham, who turns invisible and runs as soon as he sees them, yelling how he really doesn't want to fight.

And, for some reason his voice sounds familiar.

Batman thinks the boy could be a threat or trouble if someone gets his hands on him (batman speak for worried).

So, they track the boy down, they corner him slowly, not realizing their not the only ones.

Two people come speeding in a white van wearing white suits and send a shot at the "ghost" boy.

And jason. His body just moves.

He lunges to the boy, shoving g him out of the way, a panic he hasn't felt ina long time taking over.

He watches the boys eyes grow wide when he pushes him to the pavement, as Jason's shoulders shot.

And his then comes the pain.

Jason screams as what feels like hot fire runs through him. His eyes begin to haze as the pain becomes too much and he passes out.

The last thing he sees is the boys horrified face coming closer, mouthing something he cant hear. He welcomes the darkness enveloping him with open arms, anything to get away from the pain.

*static*

Jason?

Feel free to add on or use!

Ps. Quick question, but do you lot think I should stop with the greetings up top? Let me know!

[outmakingmoonshine]

The conversation Syd has with Shapiro in 3x10 is of course about the job he offered her but the main questions of the conversation are: Has Syd told Carmy yet? Why hasn't she told Carmy yet? Does she still want to tell Carmy? When is she going to tell Carmy? Then a noncommittal agreement that she will tell Carmy "soon". As much as it's about the job offer, all these questions are about Carmy too. The questions are forcing Syd to think about why she can't just tell him, and deep down she knows why. (S1 Syd wouldn't have hesitated this long to tell Carmy and take the offer, especially since the way he's been treating her in S3 is worse than what made her leave in 1x07. Syd, unlike Carmy, is more aware of the kind of treatment she does and doesn't deserve.)

So we can assume as their conversation comes to a close and Shapiro walks off giving her a minute alone to think, Syd's mind is on Carmy and the reason only she knows, why she hasn't told him.

Well just after Shapiro walks away and Syd has her moment to think Big White Cloud by John Cale plays through the next few shots

(Syd's in a room full of wine bottles, mind you. I don't wanna divert the topic too much but in the table scene, the wall of alcohol bottles is always behind, above and "weighing down" Carmy's side of the table for the entire 5 minute zoom in. The table they're both fixing "their side of" which represents their relationship and them "keeping their side of the street clean." <<Thank you to @yannaryartside for writing this incredible meta! I think the bottles represent Carmy and him being a type of addict, in repeating traumatic patterns, not necessarily an alcoholic.)

The chrous of the song repeats the same lyrics over and over again starting from the last shot of Sydney and ending at the first shot of Carmy, with a Chef Terry & Syd parallel transition scene connecting them.

The lyrics:

Oh I love it, yes I love it Oh I love it so Oh I love it, yes I love it Oh I love it so Oh I love it, yes I love it

I think the song is about more than just Carmy, but I think it's also strongly about Carmy. Especially based on all the questions Shapiro was asking right before it. It's also about the restaurant Syd's been building and everyone working there too, but I think this might be subliminally telling us why Syd hasn't told Carmy yet and why she doesn't want to. She loves the restaurant, she loves the family they've built there together and the most painful, frustrating part that's keeping her from jumping at Shapiro's offer is she loves Carmy.

The Syd and Shapiro scene ends with Syd walking out and if the camera was following her like it follows Chef Terry in the video, we would be seeing Syd's back walk away. Instead the next shot is CT's back walking away. She walks up to this hanging art thing, stops to admire it for a second, then sees Carmy pass behind her and goes to find him.

The Chef Terry transition scene makes it seem like these two scenes of Syd & Carmy aren't connected by this song but the CT scene is a mirror of this scene of Syd looking at the same art earlier in the episode:

In both scenes the art is in the shot first, Syd/Chef Terry walk into the shot, they stop to admire the artwork for a second, (they linger a bit longer in CT's scene to drag out the space between the shots of Syd & Carmy while this song is playing) then they both walk away to find Carmy.

They also walk in the same way. The CT scene is the perspective we would've seen if the camera follwed behind Syd like this when she walked up to the art when she arrived but the camera in Syd's scene is waiting where the scene ends in the hallway that Syd walks down. You can see the same plant in front of the grey wall on the left of CT that's on Syd's left as she walks past, the design on the white wall, the flower arrangement ahead that Syd walks towards etc

The scenes are almost identical, they're just shot from different angles so they look and feel completely different. But imagine if it was Syd in CT's scene, the resulting conversation Chef Terry had with Carmy outside is exactly the kind of open, honest conversation Syd & Carmy need to have.

Also notice Syd walks down the hallway into the restaurant to find Carmy but finds a very absent, unfocused version of him. Chef Terry turns back the way she came and goes out of the restaurant to find Carmy and she finds a more present, attentive version of him. Sydcarmy deperately need to connect outside of work. It was magical when they did in the apartment in 2x02 but then he didn't show up to Kasama and started dating Claire...which shouldn't have been an issue if their connection & story was just about work & friendship!

The song continues to play and as the third "oh I love it" comes in we go to a shot of Carmy with his back to us facing a bright artificial light. (Remember he left Syd behind in the restaurant? Syd is represented by natural light, not artificial light and we know it's likely Carmy goes back to Claire in S4, hence him looking into the artificial light here with his back to the restaurant where Syd is. And maybe coincidence, maybe not, the last line Syd said before the song started playing was "I'm right behind you". Chef Terry, who was just mirrored to Syd, walks up behind him.)

Also the clothes rail on the left looks very similar to the one we saw Sydney picking her chef's coat from in 3x09 while trying to figure out how to break the news to either Carmy or Shapiro and those look like Chef's coats, just like Sydney had on hers.

And I just left the start of the conversation between Carmy & Chef Terry in because it sounds so sydcarmy coded, further making the point that these scenes are connected to their story together.

Chef Terry tells Carmy later in their talk that she's closing the restaurant because she just wants to go out and live life and Carmy seems to think about that and wonder if he could have that too. Considering Carmy's willing to bend over backwards to keep Syd around and doesn't seem to give anywhere near the same energy to anyone else, I'd say he wants to be able to do that with Sydney but doesn't feel like it's possible because she wants a star and he's determined to make her happy, even if that means suffering in the darkest parts of his mind for months just to get it for her.

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Brotherly Love Pt.6 J.T D.W

Summary: You get hurt by a frightened Meta-human, and your brothers become defensive.

Warnings: injury, a gun, death threats.

~☆~

It was Friday, and you agreed to spend time at Penelopes apartment with her and Reign. Not yet used to the idea of staying the night with someone, but they were happy with whatever you were comfortable with.

The three of you laughed in sync over a stupid joke, until you were cut off by a loud crash coming from outside, screams of terror following soon after. Penelope let out a yell as Reign held onto her as a way to calm down her nerves, which hardly helped because she could feel how badly he himself was shaking.

Reign yelled out for you as you creeped up to Penelopes bedroom window to see what the noise was. In the middle of the street, you could see your father...well, Batman. Robin's unintelligible yelling could be heard, but you couldn't see him, that is until he popped up right in front of you, suprise evident on his masked face as he realized who you were.

Reign and Penelope retreated further into the apartment to try and distance themselves from the noises coming from outside, screaming your name as they tried to get you to follow them.You fought with yourself on whether you should go help or not. On one hand, you were a trained assassin. On the other hand, you were a random Gotham civilian.

Your legs moved faster than your brain as you ran out of Penelopes apartment, running down the flights of stairs rather than taking the probably non working elevator. Stopping your movements once outside you gazed into the street, watching as Batman tries to talk to a boy around your age. Robin is creeping up behind him, a thick type of collar in his hands as he attempts to get close to the boy. A hand landing on your arm alerted you, causing your reflexes to move faster than your brain. Your movements falter as you recognize the man, Red Robin, Tim, your brother.

"Get inside Y/N." He says in a stern tone that's still laced with concern.

"But-" you try to argue with him.

"Y/N!" You could tell by the slight whine in his voice that he's wasn't telling you he's begging you. You nod before turning to look at your father one more time, instinctively your gaze moved to the boy he was talking to. Your eyes trailed down to the boys hand. It flexed as if he was going to shoot something out of it. Looking back up at his face, you could see his eyes dart to the side, trying to see Robin, as if he knew he was there. He must have heard Robin because his hands shot up towards Batman, your legs ran towards your father, attempting to push him out of the way. Whatever invisible force the boy shot at Batman was now colliding with you, sending you flying into the brick wall of a building. A jolt of pain overtook your body, and the air was knocked out of your lungs, making you gasp. Each breath only filled you with agony. Your eyes drooped as you watched a fugure run towards you, cupping your face as it finally got by your side. You attempted to keep your eyes open for longer, but being able to hold them got harder by the second, a muffled voice came out from beside you, yelling out at the men in the street then whispering to you.

"Y/N, please stay awake!" The muffled voice pleaded as they watched your eyes close, darkness engulfed your vision, and ringing in your ears started as you passed out.

~☆~

Your eyes slowly peeled open as you awoke, the bright light above you made it hard. A hand grabbed your arm as you finally got your eyes open, coming face to face with the same green eyes you had hardly seen before passing out. Damian's voice slowly filled your ears as he attempted to tell you where you were, you knew exactly where you were. Tucked into the corner of the Batcave, in the little makeshift hospital room that was added on for moments like this.

Your body attempted to sit up much against Damian's protests. However, you didn't make it far because the pain overtook your ribs. Damian tried to coax you into laying back down, but you continued to try and get off of the bootleg hospital bed, Damian's hands snaked around your abdomen as your feet touched the ground.

"Where is he?" You croaked out, trying to find out if the boy was okay.

"Absolutely not." Damian stated, already knowing that you were going to try and talk to the boy. Tim came around the corner, still in his Red Robin gear.

"He's out here." He whispered as he took you from Damian's hold.

Walking further into the batcave you spot a giant clear box, the boy from earlier inside of it, with the collar Damian held in the street around his neck. Tim held you up before you swatted his arms off of you, leaning against the cage that the boy was in. Tim guided Bruce away from the two of you, sensing that you wanted to be alone for the moment.

As you heard their footsteps get further away you finally looked at the boy, his dirty blonde hair fell into his eyes as he looked down at the floor.

"Hello." You whispered, trying to grab his attention. His head shot up as he stared at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at your hunched body.

"I-im so sorry." He whimpered out, seemingly trying not to cry as he looked at you with banages around your torso. You let a gust of air out of your nose as you chuckled, trying to lighten up the situation with a laugh.

"You were scared." You smiled at him "You were scared, right?"

He looked back down at the floor, picking at his fingers before nodding his head.

"Whats your name?" You asked, his head once again shot up to look at you, confused as to why you were standing here asking for his name after he threw you into a building.

"Arkin...kinda like Arkham." He whispered.

"Hello Arkin, I'm Y/N." You introduced yourself, smiling even wider, causing Arkin to quickly look back at the ground.

"They're gonna take me away." He whispered again, breaking the silence that had taken over the cave.

"I know, but I'll make sure you're okay." Arkins head slowly rose back up to look at you, blush evident on his cheeks. A shy smile crossed his lips before quickly falling again as Red Hood stormed into the cave.

"GET AWAY FROM THEM!" He yelled at the boy, talking about how Arkin was right in front of you now, rather than huddled in the corner of the cage. Jason was obviously seething with rage as he grabbed you from behind and pushed himself in front of you, pointing a gun at the clear material that kept Arkin separate from you. You were about to try and calm Jason down before your father and other brothers stepped in to help.

"Hood, please calm down." Batman tried to coax Jason.

"CALM DOWN? HE HURT Y/N!" Red Hood yelled.

"Guys please stop!" You yelled out, only your words fell onto deaf ears.

"I'm siding with Hood, you should be seething father." Damian calmly spoke, not caring that Arkin heard him call Batman 'father'.

"Please, he was scared!" You tried to reason, Tim nodded along with you, trying to signifythat he's on your side no matter what.

"I SHOULD PUT A BULLET IN HIS HEAD!" Red Hood screamed, pulling his gun back up to the box, obviously it meant nothing, the material that held Arkin was made to stop meta-humans, no bullet could peirce through it.

"JASON, ENOUGH!" Bruce yelled, making everyone stare at him.

"IM PISSED BELIEVE ME, BUT HE IS A CHILD!" Bruce yelled again.

Everyone stared at Bruce with looks of shock, Jason lowered his gun before looking away, jaw clenching as he thought of what to say. He turned to look at you before pushing against Bruce and heading up to the Manor. Bruce let put a sigh as he turned to look at Tim and Damian. Your eyes landed on Arkin, who had tears streaming down him face.

"Take Y/N upstairs." Bruce whispered, turning to look at Arkin himself.

~☆~

The two boys held you around your waist and shoulders as they held you up in the hidden elevator that the batcave had, Damian eyes never once left your face. The doors opened, displaying the luxurious Manor, Alfred was already waiting for the three of you to arrive. He tried to take you from both of the boys' arms only to earn a glare from Damian.

Tim stepped away as Alfred took his place at your side, walking you upstairs to your room.

~☆~

Alfred lightly layed you in bed, Damian just stood watching your aching body try to stay awake. Even though you had just awoke from being knocked out, you still had the desire to sleep for the rest of your life. Alfred made sure that the pillows were layed to your liking and you were tucked in comfortably before pressing a kiss to your forehead and walking back downstairs.

"Go take a shower." You told Damian who hadn't left the room yet, his Robin costume still clinging to his skin. The boy stood watching you a little longer before finally leaving you to your slumber.

~☆~

When you awoke, there was a body next to you, petting your hair with their hand. You breathed in, seeing if you could uncover who it was without opening your eyes. Gunpowder was the first thing you smelled. It was strong, masking the other scents that clung to the body. Tobacco, leather, slight scent of lavender, and the smell that sticks to the room after you've baked.

"Jason?" You croaked out, trying to see if your guess was right.

"Yeah kid, it's me." He whispered, still playing with your hair.

Your eyes opened, finally revealing the man beside you. He wasn't in his full Red Hood gear like he was earlier. He lacked both masks, and his jacket was discarded, along with his shoes. His hand that wasn't toying with your hair lifted up to point at your nightstand, well, the book that layed upon it. It was the same green book that Jason had read and given to you when you met him, the one that had its name rubbed off and the spine falling apart.

"What did you think?" He asked with genuine interest.

"I didn't really take you as a romance type of guy." You teased him, both of you let out a chuckle at your comment.

"It was good though, i liked the part where Madelyn punched that one guy." You confessed. Jason stared down at you with a smile on his face, watching as you went into more detail about the book, but were cut short when you tried getting out of bed.

"What are you doing?" He questioned, sitting up himself.

"I want to go see Arkin." You told him, Jason only furrowed his brows.

"Who?" He asked you, you only looked back at him with wide eyes.

"I...I need to go down to the Batcave." You whispered, turning away from Jason and standing up.

"No!" Jason almost yelled as he walked around the bed, trying to get you to sit back down. "Absolutely not, Y/N." He said sternly.

"Jason, please." You whined, looking up into his eyes.

"He hurt you!" Jason tried to reason, holding you tighter as you tried to escape him.

"Jason he's scared." You whined again, still trying to get out of his grasp.

"Y/N, No!"

"BRUCE!" You yelled out, hoping that he would barge in and help you. Jason's grasp on your arms loosened as you yelled out for your father, giving you and opportunity to get out of your room. As you walked down the hallway you passed Bruce, who was seemingly heading to where you called him, your hand raised as you pointed to your room, where Jason still stood, hoping that Bruce could talk to him.

~☆~

You walked down into the batcave, wanting to bid goodbye to Arkin before he was sent off to God knows where. Damian however was already stood infront of the cage that Arkin layed in, seemingly asleep.

"Go back upstairs Y/N." Damian spoke, already knowing it was you who was walking up to him.

"I wanted to see him." You whispered, the way you were hunched over put you at the perfect level to look into Damian's eyes. The boy next to you let out a sigh as he let his eyes land on you, his body still facing the cage.

Damian and you stood there until Arkin started to stir, that was enough to make Damian walk off, back to the Manor.

"Y/N?" Arkin croaked as he caught sight of you.

"Hey..." You whispered to him.

"What are you doing?" He questioned.

"Um, I have water." You mentioned, opening the lock that opened a little window for things to be placed in. Arkin watched you, expecting you to place the bottle into the cage and close the window back up. His eyes widened as you didn't let go of the bottle, a small smile stretched on your lips as you waved your hand a bit, giving him a go-ahead to grab the water. Arkin slowly scooted forward, reaching an arm out. Your fingers lightly touched each other before Arkin quickly retracted his hand.

"I'm sorry." He whined, retreating further into the cage, distancing himself from you.

"Hey, you're okay, Arkin." You smiled at him, lightly placing the bottle on the ground. Arkin's lips slightly raised at the corners as he listened to you. The boy in front of you grabbed the bottle, downing the water inside, his eyes stayed locked on your own as you watched him. The door to the little window stayed open as you and Arkin sat in silence. You knew you were gonna have to talk to Bruce about staying in contact with the boy in front of you.

~☆~

As you made your way back up to the Manor, you decided that it was probably best if you call Reign, knowing he'd still be with Penelope. Your disappearing act probably wasn't the best thing you should've done to them. The phone only rang twice before it was immediately picked up.

"Hey are you guys okay?" You questioned, hoping that they would say yes.

"Are we okay?!" Reign yelled "Y/N, you're the one that ran out there and didn't come back!" He exclaimed, still speaking loudly.

"I'm fi-" You started before being cut off.

"Y/N, BABY! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!" Penelopes voice yelled, desperate to hear from you.

You let out a little chuckle before talking about how they shouldn't wory, you're back at home and taken care of.

The three of you talked until the elevator doors opened and you walked into an empty room of the Manor. After bidding goodbye, you walked into the living area of the house that was surprisingly empty. You would've figured that at least someone would've been in there.

You plopped down on one of the couches, allowing your aching body to relax from your standing. Almost immediately, Ace ran into the room, jumping up to your side and resting his head on your thigh. Dick came running into the room after him, yelling out your name and settling on the other side of you, hugging your head in between his arms. You let out a groan as your ribs started hurting from the way your body leaned into Dick. He immediately let go of you and rested his head on your shoulder. Tim walked into the living room after hearing a commotion, Ace jumped from the couch and onto the floor, next to your feet.

"You feeling okay?" Tim asked as he sat beside you. You let out a tight smile and nodded your head yes. Your body was tense because of both of the men resting their heads on you. Physical contact was still something you were getting used to.

~☆~

Bruce and Alfred walked into the living room side by side, but stopped in their tracks as they caught sight of the three of you on the couch.

Dick, Tim, and yourself were passed out cold, leaning on one another for support. Alfred retrieved a blanket to place over the three of you, whilst Bruce watched with a smile on his lips.

~☆~

Yes, the name Arkin is taken from Arkin O'Brian... I like both of those movies.....<3

Taglist:@sanjanapm

@unofficial-jaytodd-wife

@texaschainslvt

@godknows-shetried

@wendds

@celestair

@lorosette

@knoxx-seresinbradshaw

@agent-nobody-knows

@5sos-wdw

@lil-baby-nor

@simligul

@luvly-writer

@neptunesdreams2007

@zonked-times

@i-3at-kidz

@myxticmoon

@xxgrimripp3rxx

@samstersv

@vanessa-boo

@greengarsstuff

@illya-roma

@luna025

@fruittiest-of-loops

@classymusicgalaxy

@randomlyappearingartist

@bluejay390

@venomsvl

@marvelworldlover

@ceshacat

@killercranberries

@hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog

@greenkiki

@herascave

@cryinghotmess

@ladyagagaslefttoe

@b-barnes04

@theitchbbbb

@theclassicvinyldragon

@loxbbg

@tami123

@lunalixya

@randobeetlehouse

@1lovehotmoms

@esposadomd

@american-idiot21

@mildvalue506

@ziaphene

@cryinghotmess

@persephil

@ya-mya-22u

@lilylovelyxo

@soupasses

@dnarez

@mandyboolove

@scorpionmotordemon

@dangerous-girls-world

@darkfaethedestroyer

@violet2507

@urminebutidontwantyou

@d3m0nch1ld

@mxtokko

@thereeallink

@venezsuwayla

@im-in-too-much-fandom-help

[cuubism]

bookstore cryptid dream part 11 -- the kidnapping installment

--

“Whatever happened to that poetry book?” Hob asks one day, sitting with Dream in the living room. He’s not sure why it comes to him.

Dream looks up from his book on the history of chocolate, tilting his head in question.

“The cursed one,” Hob elaborates.

“Ah.” Dream closes his book, looking very serious now. “I locked it away, somewhere safe, suitable for books such as that.”

“Didn’t destroy it?”

“Releasing such magic can sometimes have… unintended consequences.” He shakes his head, as if remembering prior such instances. “Best to simply contain it.”

“How many books like that are out there?” Hob asks curiously. Every day, he learns some new thing about the world from Dream. And how dangerous some books can, apparently, be.

“There are a selection. They are rare. For most books, their power lies in the words themselves. No need for occult spells.”

“Huh.” Hob supposes that makes sense. “But you don’t lock those ones away?”

Dream shakes his head. “No. They can be dangerous, though.”

Hob is still wildly curious about these actually magic books. Not that he’d particularly enjoyed getting cursed, but still, he wonders if any such thing will ever cross his path again. He supposes he should hope not.

It is fascinating, though.

--

Dream is missing.

It isn’t like last time, when The Library itself had been gone. That had freaked Hob the fuck out at the time, but now, he knows what it meant — that Dream had felt The Library itself was under threat, and had locked it for safekeeping.

Now, The Library is still there. The door creaks open, unlocked, as Hob pushes on it, letting him into the tiny foyer and first winding halls of stacks. The selection changes periodically — today’s categories include HOPE & ITS DISCONTENTS, “Libraries” (rather meta, Hob thinks), Books of Emptiness (Hob takes one off the shelf out of curiosity and finds it, indeed, empty), and S P E L L S, most of which seem to be dictionaries, actually? Strange. But then, that is The Library.

This is the third day of Hob coming back to The Library in the hopes of finding Dream, and having those hopes dashed. Hope and its discontents, indeed.

Everything is in its place. But Dream is nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been coming home. His books are still on the nightstand, his cardigan forgotten on a chair in the cafe. His study is the same, too, cluttered with notes and journals, abandoned cups of coffee on desks and side tables.

It hurts Hob’s heart to look at, even more than finding The Library gone. The place feels empty without Dream there. As soon as Hob steps in the front door, he can tell Dream hasn’t returned, simply for how grey everything feels.

He hopes nothing’s happened, that Dream was just called away on some urgent errand in the middle of the day, when Hob was busy, and it’s taking him longer than expected to resolve it. Dream is criminally bad at using his phone, to the extent that Hob sometimes isn’t convinced he owns one, and might just have forgotten texting is something he can do. They’ll have to have a talk about that, because he’s giving Hob a heart attack, but still it’s the best case scenario.

But it’s the worst case scenario that’s swirling in Hob’s head.

Dream has disgruntled customers at times. He’d gotten into a fistfight with one, back when they’d first met. What if someone took their ire even further? Hell, what if the owner of that cursed poetry book came back for it?

Hob sighs, slumping into Dream’s desk chair. Even if something terrible has happened, he hasn’t the first clue how to go about finding Dream. He’s kept an eye out, while exploring The Library, for any indication of what could have happened, but to no avail. He’s well and truly starting to panic. The Library has doors everywhere. Dream could be anywhere.

His eyes land on Dream’s journals, still laid open on the desk. Normally Hob doesn’t pry into Dream’s notes. But these are dire circumstances. Hob’s going to lose it if he doesn’t do something.

He picks up the top notebook and reads the entry it’s open to:

— MG thought destroyed ack. lost 1916? JC report OAM magic picked up Sussex summoning what??

Hob groans. “Dream, could your notes be any more fucking unintelligible?” Apparently, his mind works too fast to write in full words, instead of just shorthand.

He flips through a few more pages of notes, skimming them, but not getting much. Then a few pages in, he finds a letter tucked into the journal. In someone else’s handwriting, it reads:

Dream—

You never use your goddamn fucking phone so here’s a note. You know I wouldn’t have to be so obscure if we could just use encrypted texts? Fucking luddite. Anyway. I found the damn thing. R.B. + Co. Pretty sure we’d know if they succeeded in using it so we still have time. I think I have a way in. If I retrieve can you neutralize it? AND FUCKING CALL ME WE’RE SHORT ON TIME!

—JC

In case you forgot how phones work: 020 9281 5555

Well, that’s something. The same JC from the notes? What exactly are the two of them trying to neutralize?

Hob has no idea. But at least he has a clue now.

--

Hob paces back and forth in his living room as he calls the number for “JC”, absolutely no idea who he’s going to get on the other end. But hopefully, they might know what’s happened to Dream.

“Hello?” A gruff woman’s voice answers the line.

“Hi, I’m looking for…” he doesn’t actually know her name. “…J?”

“What?”

“Look, I’m looking for Dream,” Hob says in a rush. Might as well lay it all out. “I’m his boyfriend. He’s been missing for three days.” Maybe “missing” is overstating it. But maybe it’s understating it. “I found your phone number in his notes and wanted to know if you’d seen him.”

“Likely story, pal,” she says with a scoff. “Dream keeps his boyfriend out of all the occult shit. And good thing, too. I wish I could keep myself out of it. What do you really want with him?”

It’s sort of gratifying that other people in Dream’s circle are also protective of his secrets, even if it’s frustrating in the moment. But, ‘keeps him out of the occult shit’? Exactly how much ‘occult shit’ is Dream dealing with on a regular basis?

“Exactly what I said,” Hob says. “He doesn’t usually disappear like this. His notes said you two were looking for something? Something dangerous?” Did Dream go after it? Is that what happened?

“MOTHERFUCKER!” she screams, and Hob pulls the phone from his ear with a wince. “I am going to KILL HIM!”

“Don’t hang up!” Hob yells before she can do just that. “Will you come meet me? I’ll give you my own address, if it helps. You know where The Library is?”

“The Library’s got multiple doors, mate,” she says, sounding marginally calmer now.

Right. Fuck. He gives her the actual street name this time, and she says—

“Be there in a mo’. Your idiot boyfriend’s got himself in a right mess I expect. Because he’s a fucking idiot.”

Just as Hob feared, then. “Tell me about it when you get here,” he says, and then, when she’s hung up, goes to gather Dream’s journals.

--

A smart, tough-looking woman greets him at the door to the cafe, which Hob’s closed for the time being, an hour or so later. “Johanna Constantine,” she says, sticking out a hand, which Hob shakes. “So you really are the boyfriend. Huh. Hob, right?”

“Yeah.” Hob isn’t sure whether to be touched or alarmed that Dream talks about him with his random occult acquaintances.

“He has a photo of you two on his phone,” Johanna explains. “Not that he uses it, the rat bastard. God I’m going to murder him when I find him.”

“Let’s sit down,” Hob suggests. He has coffee ready, more for something to do to still his restless hands while waiting than anything.

“Right,” Johanna says, as she sits down at a table. She gratefully takes the coffee he offers. “So, I’m choosing to trust you. If you fuck me over we will have a serious problem. Okay?”

Hob raises his hands in surrender. “I literally just want to find Dream. I’m worried sick about him.”

Johanna takes a long sip of her coffee. “Right. So. My business is managing occult stuff, yeah? Exorcisms and the like. Stopping it before it hurts anyone. I’ve been trying to track down this particular book. Spell book. Dangerous stuff. What it can do—doesn’t matter. It was thought lost for ages, or destroyed—wouldn’t that have been great. But Dream and I both wanted to get it off the streets, once it popped up again. There’s no good hands for that book to be in.”

“You two friends?” Hob asks.

“Eh,” says Johanna, “sorta. Mostly work friends, I guess. I first got Dream’s help with a spell book a few years back. He’s the best one to go to for that sort of thing, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Yeah,” Hob agrees, mulling over this whole side of Dream’s business he didn’t know about. It makes sense, though. Dream, the expert on all books. Even this book, whatever it is, must ultimately belong to The Library.

“And now he’s gone after this book,” Hob guesses. “By himself.”

“I told him I would retrieve it,” Johanna says, gritting her teeth. “All I wanted was his help locking the thing away after. But no. Had to do it all himself.” She sighs.

“It must have really concerned him,” Hob says.

“It concerned me!” Johanna exclaims. “All the more reason not to go alone! Idiot.” It’s said with fondness, though.

“So, what are we going to do?” Hob asks.

“We?” says Johanna, raising an eyebrow.

“Listen, I don’t care about the book—”

“You should,” Johanna says seriously.

“—Well, I don’t. But I do care about Dream. If he’s in trouble, then I’m not just going to sit here.”

Johanna looks at him appraisingly, then nods, satisfied. “Good,” she says. “I know who has the Grimoire, so I know where he’ll most likely have gone. How good are you with a cricket bat?”

“How about a knife?” Hob says.

She startles. “Christ. Alright, then. I won’t ask, but good.”

“Just tell me where to go, and I’ll be there,” Hob says seriously, and for the first time, she gives him a smile.

“I’ve been hoping for an excuse to give Roderick Burgess a good thrashing. Guy’s a prick. Alright, Dream’s boyfriend—let’s go get the stupid librarian."

--

It’s decided Hob should be the initial decoy because, according to Johanna, “people always think I mean trouble, and you have this sort of wholesome coffee shop owner thing going on. Knife skills aside.”

Hob’s not sure if it’s a compliment or not.

“He’ll definitely think he can scam you,” Johanna adds. That one’s definitely not a compliment.

So Hob goes to an event Roderick Burgess is hosting, showing off all his antiques. He brings with him an old book from The Library, ostensibly to “sell”. Forgive me, Dream, he thinks, as he pulls Magicks of the World off the shelf. Promise I won’t let him keep it.

It’ll get him in, he hopes. It’ll get Roderick Burgess’s attention, at least enough to let Johanna slip past. The book is proper old, nearly falling apart, and while it may not be actually magic, it at least is about magic. He hopes it’s enough.

“Remember,” Johanna says, as they’re stepping up to the door, “just keep his attention. I’ll search the house to see if I can find Dream, or the Grimoire.”

“You really think he’s keeping Dream hostage in this house?” Hob asks incredulously.

Johanna snorts. “If he thinks Dream can help him decode the thing? Yeah, absolutely. I told you. Guy’s a selfish prick.”

That seemed to be putting it lightly.

Hob isn’t sure he’ll be content with being the distraction if he finds out Roderick actually has Dream captive. But he calms himself for the time being.

--

Hob absolutely hates Roderick Burgess the second he lays eyes on him.

He’s managed to corner Burgess in the sitting room of the old manor house. His book in one hand, drink in the other. The man is fucking seedy. Hob could tell immediately, even if Burgess pretended at gentility.

Hob’s already decided that Roderick does have Dream locked in a room somewhere. Call it instinct.

Roderick gives Magicks of the World a look of cool disinterest as Hob hands it to him, but it shifts to grudging surprise. “This is actually old,” he says. “Unlike the fake crap people keep trying to pawn off on me.”

“I was told you had a discerning eye,” Hob says with false admiration. “1612. Genuine article.”

“Hm. This is of some interest,” says Roderick. “Come to my office.”

Hob follows him, hoping Johanna is having some success finding Dream.

Roderick’s office is much neater than Dream’s study. it feels like the affected study of someone trying to come acrossas a studious gentleman. Hob hates it.

And there on the desk is a thick, leather-bound volume that Hob knows instantly is the book Dream and Johanna have been looking for. He isn’t sure exactly how he knows. He isn’t at all magical. But he just knows. He can feel the eerie energy of the thing.

“I’ll give you six hundred pounds for it,” Roderick says, laying Magicks on the desk.

Hob startles. That’s actually a lot of money for a single book. Sorry, Dream, he thinks.

“Where did you get it?” Roderick asks.

“Old bookshop,” Hob says. “Don’t think they knew what they had.”

“They never do,” Roderick muses.

He hands Hob six hundred pounds, cash. Hob takes it, dumbfounded.

“Tell me,” he says, pretending hesitance. “I only know how to tell the age. How to know if it’s genuine. The magic stuff—that’s beyond me. How do you make sense of it?”

“I have my sources,” says Roderick. He seems to delight in being enigmatic. “There are… certain experts. If one knows where to look.”

Certain experts. Hob grits his teeth. “You willing to share a name? I have a few books myself I’d love to get better appraised.”

“I’m keeping that to myself for now. Trade secrets, you know.” He smiles to himself, meanly. “Valuable sources, those, in this business.”

Hob decides two things. One: he can definitely take down an old man. Two: he doesn’t care if he goes to prison.

He picks up a heavy statue from the desk and, before Roderick can react, cracks him across the head with it.

Roderick drops like a stone, and Hob snatches up both Magicks and the Grimoire, and flees.

Shit. That might have been ill-advised. What if Dream isn’t in the house, and Hob just caused permanent brain damage to the one person who might know where he is? Shit.

Nothing for it now. He hurries through the halls, books under his arm. He turns a corner, then another, and where the bloody hell is he? Then—

He nearly runs directly into Johanna and Dream.

Hob thrusts the books at Johanna, and takes Dream in his arms instead, pulling him into a tight hug. Dream hugs him back, pressing his face into Hob’s neck with a soft little sound.

He looks rough. His hair is a disaster—more than usual—and he’s wearing the same clothes Hob vaguely remembers him putting on that morning several days ago, before he disappeared.

“Hey,” Hob whispers, “I was really worried about you.”

“‘m sorry,” Dream murmurs, clutching at him.

“This was extremely fucking stupid, Dream,” Johanna says, in a tone that suggests she’s said so already. There’s worry there too, though.

“Yes, point taken,” Dream says.

“I love you,” Hob murmurs against his cheek, before pulling away to look at him properly.

There’s a bruise on Dream’s cheek that makes Hob very glad he smacked Roderick upside the head with a statue. More than that, he looks a bit… haunted. Hob will have to get more details later. Right now, they need to get out of here.

“Where the fuck is Roderick?” Johanna demands.

“I might have killed him,” Hob says, not feeling very bad about it. “Not totally sure.”

“No loss,” says Johanna, holding the books tightly.

Hob keeps Dream close. Dream is looking at him in wonder. Like Hob is the last possible thing he had expected to see. Freedom itself.

Hob kisses his forehead. And then they get the fuck out of there.

--

“You should really rest, Dream,” Hob says.

Dream is currently doing something to the Grimoire. Binding the pages. He doesn’t seem willing to let it go until he’s made the thing safe.

He sighs. “In a moment.”

“Dream…”

Dream finally puts the book away in a drawer in his desk, kneels before the desk, and draws some complicated symbol on the wood. Perhaps he had done the same with the poetry book, Hob thinks.

Though Hob suspects that the Grimoire is significantly more dangerous.

Finally Dream stands. He seems… a bit listless, now, having finished with the book. Even in the soft lighting of the Library study, the awful bruise on his face is stark, a deep plum mark. He looks at Hob, hands twisting together, expression vulnerable.

Hob’s heart hurts. He hopes he did kill Roderick. But now, he holds out his hands to Dream.

Dream steps over to him, and Hob brings him into an embrace. Holds him tight. Whatever determination had kept Dream going thus far seems to evaporate, then, and he sags against Hob, trembling slightly.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Hob murmurs against his hair.

“Yes,” Dream sighs.

He locks up the study, which Hob has never seen him do before, and then, once they’re downstairs, locks The Library’s front door as well. He leaves a sign that says, “Closed for the time being.”

Hob leads him across the street, back upstairs to his flat above the cafe, and steers him to the bathroom. He perches him on the edge of the tub as he turns on the tap and lets the hot water fill up.

Dream is still shivering a little. The poor thing is probably desperate for a bath, not to mention food, Christ.

“What did he want with you?” Hob asks, helping Dream out of his jumper. Dream winces as he pulls it off over his head, and Hob grits his teeth. “Did he hurt you?”

“He had been trying to use the Grimoire,” Dream says, as Hob kneels to help him with his slacks. “But there was a symbol he could not decode. My… approach… to try to take the book back was… not as clever as I had hoped, and I was intercepted. He demanded I translate it. When I refused…” he trails off. He’s naked now, and Hob can see a dark bruise stretching up his thigh, another working its way up his back and over his shoulder. “Well, he did not take well to being told ‘no.’”

“Bastard,” Hob swears, and Dream’s lips quirk up.

“Quite.”

Hob kisses the bruise on Dream’s thigh—if only that would do more to actually heal it—and Dream smiles faintly.

“What’s that book do anyway?” Hob asks.

“It’s meant to summon Death,” says Dream, and Hob feels a chill, like the universe itself is protesting that possibility. “I do not think it has ever been successfully used. But the magic is certainly potent enough.”

“Good thing you got it back, then,” says Hob. He helps Dream up, then supports him as he steps into the tub, sinking down into the warm water with a sigh.

Hob strips off his own clothes and follows him, slipping behind Dream and pulling him back to his chest. Dream leans his head against Hob’s shoulder.

“That was all very silly, you know,” Hob says against his cheek, arms wrapped around Dream’s middle. “I was very worried about you.”

“I am sorry,” murmurs Dream. “It was… poorly thought out.”

“Just a bit.”

“But,” says Dream, a hint of wonder in his voice, “you came to rescue me.”

Hob kisses his cheek. “Of course.”

“Hob…” starts Dream. “How may I say this… you are not exactly a rough type I would expect to be performing heists.”

“Hey, you don’t know everything about me,” Hob says indignantly. “Second, you’re a librarian, and you tried to break into the man’s damn house first. Thirdly—”

“And yet,” Dream interrupts, “you still came to help me. Roderick Burgess is a dangerous man. That was ill-advised.”

“Didn’t seem very dangerous when I smacked him in the head.”

“I am saying I appreciate it,” says Dream, with a little chuckle. “All the more so for the danger you put yourself in.”

“You’re my boyfriend,” Hob says. “I love you. Of course I came after you. Don’t be silly.”

He wishes he had gotten there sooner. He chokes up, thinking of Dream stuck in some room, uncertain of any rescue. He tucks his face into Dream’s shoulder, tears beading along his lashes. “Poor darling.”

Dream reaches up and strokes his hair. “I’d be curious to hear about your criminal past sometime,” he murmurs, which has Hob chuckling. “Did you really kill Roderick Burgess?”

“Dunno,” says Hob. “Hope so.”

“My boyfriend is more dangerous than I thought,” Dream observes, lips tugging up. He sounds quite satisfied about it, and Hob kisses the corner of his lips.

“If he comes back I’ll kill him again,” he says.

Dream shivers, leaning more heavily against him. “You’ve unlocked the two keys to my heart,” he whispers, and it’s only partly joking.

“Oh yeah?” Hob says, lips still brushing his cheek. “Violence committed on your behalf is one?”

Dream nods.

“What’s the other, then?”

Dream’s lips twitch. “Scones.”

“I’ll have to fulfill that one in a few minutes then, too,” Hob says, grinning.

“So you shall.”

“Would it make you doubly horny if I killed somebody with a scone?” Hob asks. “Or—?”

Dream turns around in his lap to kiss him, wrapping his hands around the back of Hob’s neck. Hob rocks back with the force of the kiss, leaning back against the tub. “Yes,” Dream declares, and gives Hob another peck on the lips.

“I’ll find someone to kill,” Hob promises. “You have anyone in mind?”

Dream giggles. Joy looks good on him, after everything. He tucks his nose in against Hob’s shoulder again, and Hob holds him close, runs a hand up and down over his back, careful of the bruises.

“I will think of something,” Dream promises.

Hob kisses his temple, and resolves to keep a closer eye on his boyfriend’s supernatural activities in the future.

And to buy Johanna Constantine a drink some time, too.

[vladdyissues]

I like the idea of "halfa's ghost form changes with their personality". First of all, it looks the age halfa feels himself/herself (so, yes, I doubt that Phantom is forever 14). I guess, Danny will get a full knight armor and, maybe, some stuff like a cape.

As for Vlad, I have more headcanons (but I should warn you, I see his hair as long and loose which is better for bitter broken lonely soul). The first change should has happened after "Masters of All Time": Vlad was at full force all the time to heal yourself, preventing ecto-acne symptoms, but since he is cured, his ghost form is in normal state, Plasmius' eyes aren't the whole red anymore, it's human-alike but still red, maybe, there're some pink inclusions.

At the start of Vlad's redemption arc he must develop his creative skill (ecto-constructions, weapons that works on his pink ectoplasm), trying new forms. Slowly but surely he will approach to his dream - to raise a child - he will learn how to create a life. It will take decades or even centuries but soon he will learn to make something beautiful and durable. Something like this will add to the ghost form, something like a… pink rose's tucked behind the ear.

And the last change in Plasmius' look I see is breezy hairstyle which is formed after the mutual love confession of Vlad and Danny.

I'm sorry if these hcs sound too corny for Vlad but after all I see the bitter broken lonely man who develops by love and the young halfa into the beautiful burning soul but still bitter-sweet because he can't forget what he comes through. (I love him)

No no no, these headcanons are great! Beautiful, actually. (I firmly believe there's no such thing as a "corny" headcanon. That's like saying only certain hopes and dreams have value while others are worthless—and what are headcanons but our hopes and dreams for stories and the characters within them?)

Evolving ghost forms, especially for halfas—who, unlike spectral entities, are still changing and aging—makes a lot of sense. And the idea of Vlad having long, flowing biseinen hair is very appealing 🌹

You also brought up a fantastic point about Vlad's ecto-acne being cured in Masters of All Time and how that would affect him going forward. I have a pile of headcanons about that myself but I'll make a separate post about it since it's more general meta.

But yes, imagine if Vlad was allowed to be more than a 2-dimensional cartoon villain, and curing his ecto-acne removed a terrible, irritating thorn from his side. When one is no longer suffering or in chronic pain—or living in fear of the next flare-up—imagine the difference that would make mentally and emotionally.

How could Vlad possibly be unchanged after that? The Fentons cured him. (Okay, it was more Danny discovering the cause and Maddie developing the vaccine, but still, it was their combined efforts that ultimately saved him.) If there was going to be a turning point for Vlad's character, that would have been the place to start, just like you said.

And hey, we can still dream that's what really happened, right? 🔮

[missingdadneto]

Surfing Session gone wrong

Dad! Orm Marius x Fem Reader x Daughter

[ A/N: I am dying because of the limited Orm fanfics there are, so I decided I wanted to write onee, This is all for fun so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.]

-

-

-

-wordcount: 1196

After Orm was erased from Atlantis, he no longer lived in the waters, he is now one with the land. The home of the Surface Dwellers, and soon enough it became a land weather he fell in love with Arthurs's best friend, Y/N, a Meta-Human who could adapt to any living circumstances, making her able to breathe in the Waters. She was a part of the Justice League but she rather lives her day-to-day life in her cottage beside the sea, close to Arthur’s house. Orm would spend time with Y/N as much as he could, they would talk for hours, about how Y/N’s interest in the sea rises, as well as how Orm’s interest towards the surface land also rises. 

Soon enough Orm and Y/N were together, and a year later they got married and had their daughter Pearl. She inherits her Dad’s blonde hair, with her vision colors resemble her mother's green hue. Junior on the other hand was Mera and Arthur’s son, he had curly red hair and tan skin. 

Pearl and Junior were as close as ever, their cousin relationship felt as if they were siblings because of the 2 year difference. As soon as they reached their teenage years they would meet up every Saturday morning to go surfing in their Ocean backyard. 

Orm was cooking breakfast as Y/N was reading on the sofa, Pearl came down the stairs and ran to grab her surfing board. She makes a quick stop to hug her Mother as well as to her Father. Orm hugged her back as he kissed his daughter’s head. 

“Be safe, and don’t forget to always watch out for whoever's in the Waters,” Orm warned his daughter every time, every week, and every second she was going in the Ocean. Despite her being half Atlantean. “There are people always hunting for us and if they do-”

“I Know Dad! Besides I’ll always be with Junior so I won’t be alone” Pearl laughed as she went away from the hug. She smiled at her Mother as she opened the back door. “See you guys!”

“Bye Pearl” Both Orm and Y/N smiled as their daughter went to the Waters. 

Pearl ran to Junior as he was already setting up in their usual meet-up spot, they lived quite near to each other as the beach they lived in connects, resulting in them meeting right in the middle.  “Hey, Pearl! I bought this new surfboard and it’s rad I would say” Junior showed off his board to Pearl as she looked somewhat amused. 

“That’s cool Alright, now come on! Let’s go!” She motioned her board towards the bog waves hitting the fine Morning, the sun rises higher and higher as their skins are getting tanner each weekend. 

They surfed as usual, with Junior always making it a competition on who gets the higher waves. Strangely enough, Pearl stopped as she sat on her board to see the corals beneath them. “Junior come look! The corals are more colorful than before…” Pearl spoke as Junior sat on his surfing board as well while looking below. “Hm, that’s weird, yesterday none of them had any colors” Junior confessed as Pearl looked back to him with her eyes rising out of her betrayal state. 

“YOU WENT SURFING YESTERDAY? AND I DIDN’T KNOW!?” She exclaimed with Junior laughing and defending himself, “See in my defense you were not home, YOU WERE OUT!”. Pearl stopped what she was about to say as she looked at the waters once more “Wait look Junior, the water is turning purple”. The color scattered slowly as Arthur and Orm were just about to greet their kids. “HEY PEARL!” Arthur shouted to the two teenagers as Orm followed, “Hi Junior, you guys okay?”

“Hi, Uncle Arthur!” Pearl shouted with Junior following “Hey Uncle Orm!”. “The corals are more colorful but the water is getting purple and it just looks-” Pearl stopped her sentence as he dad shouted to Junior and her. 

“GET OUT NOW!” Orm commanded as he looked at Arthur with a stunned face, Junior and Pearl were confused but they paddled as fast as they could before the purple waters reached their touches. Orm and Arthur swam as fast as they could to grab the surfboards of their child as they pulled them to the shore. 

As soon as they reached the shore Arthur and Orm reached for their child full of worry, Orm hugged Pearl quickly as he looked at her hands and feet that touched the waters. The two Fathers checked for any signs of infection in Junior and Pearl’s skin as Junior cut off the awkward state that they were in. “Uh guys, is everything alright?”

Arthur hugged Junior as tightly as he could and Orm’s arm half hugged Pearl, a relief stance of a Father for their child. “Chemicals have been reaching close to our waters, but we didn’t know that it would be this fast, and thank the Gods it didn’t reach any of you, Atlanteans touching such waters could leave a more damaging stance than humans. Orm sighed as he looked at his daughter as well as Junior beside her. 

“What, who would drop these chemicals?” Junior looked at his Father, Arthur breathed as he shook his head. “We’re going to find out…but let's just go home first and we’ll meet together at lunch okay?” The family agreed as they went back home. 

Orm helped Pearl with her surfboard as he looked at her when they reached home, “Those chemicals….” Orm stopped as Pearl waited for her father's confession “Those chemicals were the same consistency that killed Atlantean children years ago, I just can’t lose you two, I can’t lose you” Y/N opened the door as she heard Orm’s sentence, she looked at Pearl as she also checked any signs of infection in a quick pace. 

“Mom, please! Dad already checked me” Y/N is afraid to lose her only daughter as she looks at Orm. “Oh God, I know you’re fine but I’m just double checking…it’s so close to us we need to be alert sweetie.” 

Pearl shook her head as she washed her foot that was full of sand, “I’ll get ready for lunch, It’s just still a shock” Orm nodded as he smiled slightly, after Pearl went up to her room, Orm and Y/N looked at each other in the backyard, looking at the sea. 

“Have Arthur called for help from Atlantean soldiers to clean the chemical corals?” She looked towards the sea as small waves were being created, somewhat like a small tornado in the waters being summoned by Atlanteans. “I seem like it hun, I was just-” Orm stopped as Y/N’s hand reached Orm’s cheek, “It was this closer to Pearl and Junior, if they have touched the waters they-”

“Shh I know, but Thank God they’re safe now” She smiled as she looked at the waves once more. Orm then leaned to kiss Y/N’s cheek as he went inside to get ready for lunch at Arthur’s house as well. This is going to be a heavy topic for lunch.

[osunism]

Crystalline

Eyes meet, you know where this goes Her keys in, they take off their clothes They're soaking, caught in a dream Her skin shines, like crystalline —The Midnight, "Crystalline"

🪧 Summary: On the night Yuji Itadori consumes Sukuna’s Finger, Satoru finds a familiar face at the epicenter of a shocking discovery. Takes place three months after If. 🔞 Rating: Explicit ⚠️ Be Advised: Explicit sexual situations, recreational drug use, descriptions of violence, blood mention. ❤️‍🔥 Pairing: Satoru x Sundari [🧿👹]

🔏 This is a commissioned fic by the lovely @septembersums. With her permission, I finally get to post this fic so folks can understand how Satoru and his goddess met. September was kind enough to see my vision and bring it to life in her gorgeous writing style as part of my growing Parallax 'verse. She's an absolute joy to work with and talk to and I highly recommend commissioning a fic writer to bring your vision to life! September's AO3 <- Support her work too!

⛩️ AO3 𑁍 FFN 𑁍 Fic Masterlist 𑁍 Parallax OCs 𑁍 Sonder OCs 𑁍 HCs & Meta ⛩️

       Satoru is getting bored. 

         As much as he loves shopping, and he does love shopping, even Satoru has a limit when it comes to how long he can wander between food stalls browsing the options. Although boredom might not be the best word for it. Restlessness, maybe. 

         He’s been idling away the hours while he waits for Megumi to call with news that he’s secured another of Sukuna’s fingers. It’s a difficult job for a first year, considering how cursed spirits tend to flock to the cursed fingers, but Satoru is fairly confident Megumi can handle it.

         If not, Satoru will just teleport there as soon as he senses danger. Simple, easy. In theory, it shouldn’t go wrong. That idea does little to quieten down the sense of unease settling into Satoru. There’s something in the air tonight, something that tastes like intuition, something that feels off.

         Satoru attempts to shake the unnatural anxiety by purchasing some more kikufuku. Sweets usually help when he gets a bad feeling like this, which is a decidedly rare occurrence. Even with his impulsive spending, the feeling persists, and it gets stronger. He considers teleporting himself straight to Sendai to see what’s causing it but ultimately decides against it. He’ll know if something happens. 

         A shiver runs down his spine while he’s standing in front of a food truck that sells crepes, and he knows that his intuition was right. In an instant, he’s standing at the peak of a skyscraper, looking over the city. The wind whips at his loose-fitting clothes and his hair, as he pulls his blindfold down to get a good look at the situation at hand. 

         What he sees makes no sense whatsoever. It raises the fine hair at the back of his neck, makes the skin of his arms prickle with goosebumps. 

         Gaze cast towards Sendai, he sees something there— a ripple of cursed energy that looks like Sukuna, but much smaller and less destructive than one would expect of a freshly incarnated Sukuna. It’s a threat, whatever it is, and there’s no question about that, but it’s nothing compared to the other surge of cursed energy in the distance. 

Sendai is a blip on his radar in comparison to the potential nuclear explosion of cursed energy he sees building in Tokyo.

         A massive, ever-swelling fog of cursed energy covers an entire block, settling over the street like a storm cloud. The longer he looks at it, the bigger it grows. 

         It makes little sense, considering that he knows something significant just happened to one of the cursed fingers in Sendai, but it looks like Sukuna himself just appeared in Tokyo. A fully formed Sukuna with all of his power, decidedly unlike the tiny hints of it he catches when he’s near the fingers. 

         This is the real fucking thing— full-fledged, entirely unregulated, a ticking time bomb of a person who will detonate and kill hundreds of people if they aren’t contained and controlled quickly. 

         “How the fuck is Sukuna in two places at once?” Satoru hisses to himself. Not even Satoru could manage something like that. 

         Two threats, two people that he needs to keep away from the higher-ups and whoever else might be looking for an incarnated Sukuna. One, however, is a much bigger problem than the other. 

         A hypnotic bassline thrums in Sundari's ears, a familiar feeling that she normally loves. Right now, though, it’s too much. Something within her is changing, shifting, pulsating— growing. It feels like she’ll be torn apart by the surge of strength within herself, as she stumbles away from the dancefloor filled with gyrating bodies and into the bathroom. 

         Her breaths are labored, pulse racing, as she nearly doubles over against the wall. She’s drunk, sure, and she’s taken a few party drugs just to keep the night going, but she doesn’t feel right. Something’s fucking wrong, but she doesn’t feel bad. No, she feels good. She feels strong, a lot more so than usual. 

         The bathroom is empty right now, which is a shocker at a rave like this, but she’s thankful for it. Nobody needs to see her like this— panting, as the power within her claws and grips at her insides. It just grows, and grows, and grows. With a rough rasp, she stumbles over to the sink to look at herself in the mirror. 

         It might be the drugs talking, but something about her face doesn’t look right. She blinks a few times at the shifting, moving image reflected back at her.

         The scars underneath her eyes aren’t scars anymore. They’re eyeballs. Four of them. She squints at herself, leaning closer to get a better look.

         She should not have four fucking eyes right now. 

         Sundari has tried a lot of shit, but nothing that’s ever warped her perception like this. The extra eyes blink in tandem with her own, and she can somehow see through them. It’s disorienting, the shift in perspective, but her vision is only getting better as she acclimates to it. 

         “The fuck?” She mumbles, gripping onto the sink for balance.

         The porcelain shatters under her grip, and water floods into the bathroom. She’s always been strong— a good fighter, a damn good fighter. She even makes money off of it on the side, but she shouldn’t be that strong. She needs to get the hell out of here before she breaks something else, or worse. She can’t imagine what would happen if she bumped into someone right now with her newfound superhuman strength.

         She leaves the bathroom in a rush, stumbling at first as she ascends the dark stairwell that leads out of the underground rave and back into the streets of Tokyo. With every step, she miraculously seems to be sobering up. The metal door leading outside warps when she shoves it open. Fuck.

The cool night air feels better than it did inside. She inhales deeply, sighing audibly as she leans against the brick wall behind her.

         “Huh. You’re not Sukuna,” a familiar voice drawls from her left.

         She whips her head around to see who’s talking to her when she’s having the worst trip of her life, only to see a face she knows all too well. The wickedly pretty boy she hunted in the club a few months ago, not someone she expected to see tonight. He’s leaning against the wall next to her with his arms crossed, eyeing her warily. 

         “Nah— Sundari, but I thought you knew that,” she snaps back, a little annoyed to see him again right now of all times. “What are you doing here?” 

         “I do know that, but I didn’t expect to see you here either,” he argues, arms still crossed. “I should’ve known those seals on your back were for something big, but I didn’t think it was this big. Sukuna’s daughter, huh?”

         “The fuck are you talking about?” She asks, temper flaring.

         Maybe it’s the newfound strength she’s gaining, but this cryptic, confusing conversation is wearing on at her nerves. Something fucking big is happening to her— the last thing she needs right now is a weird conversation with a guy she fucked a few months ago. 

         “Come with me to my place, and I’ll explain it all,” he offers casually. “It’s a lot safer there than it is here for you. Lots of people are going to want to get their hands on you with all the power you’re gaining right now, and I promise you— I’m the one you want to end up with.”

         “You don’t know anything about me. Why would I go anywhere with you?” She snaps, pushing off of the wall with a little too much strength behind it. 

         The brick crumbles, leaving a sizable crater.

         Satoru looks between the crater and her eyes, as if that proves his point. 

         “You really want to deal with this without any information about what’s happening? What happens when you shove past a stranger on the street and break half of their bones? Or use your technique by accident and kill off a whole city block?”

         She hisses out a couple curses, weighing her options. Her decision is only really made when a fractal of a memory slams into her subconscious, and she relives it like a dream she’s forgotten. 

         The Godslayer, they called her. A monstrosity falling apart underneath her four hands, as she rips it to shreds. Worship, and her mother’s avoidance. 

         “Fuck,” she hisses. What the fuck was that?

         As far as options go, it’s looking slim right now. She could either trust this guy, or she could do exactly what he said when this keeps happening, and she can’t control her own strength. She doesn’t want to hurt people— not innocent people— not if she can help it.

         “What’s it gonna be, Sundari?” He pressures her.

         “Fine, fuck, let’s go,” she says. 

         He reaches out a hand to her, and she takes it begrudgingly. 

         Missing pieces of Sundari’s life start to come together within the next few days. Satoru explains some things to her, like Sukuna, and how she must be his daughter or something similar to have inherited this power from him. Nadja always kept her father a secret from her, a piece of the past that she never wanted to unearth.

         The memories come back in waves, usually when she sleeps. Little bits and pieces that don’t make sense when separated but start to form a clearer picture when she puts them together. She’s a lot older than she thought she was, given that she was worshiped at some point a very, very long time ago. For a number of years that she can’t begin to quantify, Sundari’s power has been sealed away, locked inside of her and restricted, as she’d lived her life like a normal person.

         Satoru explains that Sukuna was recently incarnated somewhere else, and the seal was broken, which explains why she was suddenly able to break sinks, walls, and doors with her bare hands. The four eyes are hard to get used to, but at least the extra arms haven’t shown up yet.

         Now, she’s here in Satoru’s house, being fiercely guarded day and night like some sort of prisoner. Apparently, she’s in grave danger right now, as if shit wasn’t weird enough without that added layer of stress. Satoru’s the strongest sorcerer, which he told her very arrogantly, and his entire job is killing curses like her father, and possibly like her.

         It’s been tense. Sundari isn’t naive enough to think that she’s entirely safe with Satoru, seeing as he wants to kill her dad because he’s too powerful. Where does that leave Sundari at the end of this? She hates being guarded and coddled like a child, like she’s something that needs to be contained and controlled, rather than a person.

         She’s fucking stressed, and she can’t sleep without these dreams of her long-forgotten past haunting her. She doesn’t necessarily blame Satoru for needing to kill Sukuna— he’s chaos incarnate, he’ll kill thousands of people if he isn’t stopped.

         Somewhere deep inside of herself, Sundari is afraid. She’s afraid that Sukuna’s innate violence is lurking beneath her skin, waiting to come out when she doesn’t expect it. Afraid that if she’s left to her own devices, if she gets angry or upset, she’ll become like him. Her memories and Satoru’s stories do enough to remind her of what her father has done, of what she’s capable of if she doesn’t control herself.

         But she can control herself. She’s not a loose cannon waiting to be muzzled. Satoru might not see it yet, but she can.

         She doesn’t dare mention her feelings to Satoru. Not yet at least. He’s been nice to her while she’s staying here, he didn’t even make a fuss about it when she accidentally broke a door of its hinges trying to open it, but how much can she trust him? Not enough to reveal her deepest, darkest fears, that’s for fucking sure. 

         It takes Sundari a week to gain full control of her own strength. Like an astronaut that’s just come back from Mars, it takes her a while to settle into herself and feel comfortable with her own body’s limitations again. She knows not to push too hard on doors or rip the handles off of the sink.

         Muscle memory from the distant past is kicking in to help her contain her technique. At first, her cursed energy was a serious problem that was only contained by the seals Satoru has around his house. Now, she’s maintaining it herself so well that even Satoru was shocked to see it.

         The issue now is the weird tension between the two of them. Satoru’s helpful, but she can see the hunger in his eyes when he takes off the blindfold. She feels it within herself, too, now that she can focus on it without worrying so much about her own strength. Something unfinished and unspoken, leftover from the last time they were together. It was a good night, he was a good fuck, and that was supposed to be the end of it.

         Now, they’re living together, and despite the domesticity of that, she still can’t trust him. So, like any reasonable person, she comes up with an idea of how their get over the uncanny tension, or at least make it bearable.

         “Do you have any weed around here?” She asks, as they’re sitting on the couch together, silently watching some movie she’s not paying attention to.

         Satoru turns his head slowly to look at her, intrigue written on his features. God, he’s pretty. A little too fucking pretty— it makes sense that he’s as powerful as her, given that he looks like that.

“I could get some,” he answers nonchalantly.

         Sundari smiles, and maybe they’ll work out their differences after all. Even now, she struggles to be wary of him, he’s so smooth with his words. He matches her wit with ease and returns it just the same. They’re too similar— a little arrogant, both of them, but she doesn’t see it as a bad thing. She sees it as a challenge.

         Satoru does come back with some weed a few minutes later, and she struggles to watch him roll a joint— he’s good at everything, apparently, but not that.

         “God, you’re bad at that. Let me do it,” she says, frowning as she takes the half-rolled, uneven thing out of his hands.

         “I was getting there,” he pouts, rolling his eyes.

         “You really weren’t,” she teases, which draws a smirk out of him. He likes it when she talks back, she’s realized.

         Satoru watches with a catlike grin, as she fixes it for him. Her eyes lock with his as she runs her tongue over the smooth paper, before flattening it down to make a perfectly cylindrical joint. His eyes flicker between her lips and her own when she presses it between her lips and leans toward him, waiting for a light.

         He lights it, and she feels a thousand times better as soon as she inhales. Something to calm the nerves a little bit, it helps a lot, and he has money and connections enough to get some good shit.

         Maybe it’s a little too good, actually. They’re both on the moon talking about nothing, passing it between each other and laughing at each other’s jokes. He’s funny, she thinks, as she’s looking at him. The nerve of him to be hot and funny. He’s trying to explain his technique to her, but she’s lost before he gets half of it out.

         “Bet I could take you,” she says, relaxing with her head in her palm, as she sits a little closer to him than she realizes.

         “In a fight?” He asks, teasing and a little flirtatious.

         She grins. “Yeah, in a fight.”

         “Bet you couldn’t,” he argues.

         She’s not one to lose fights, and she tells him about it. The Yakuza pays her good money to fight in underground rings, and they wouldn’t hedge their bets on her if she lost. Satoru counters it by telling her that he’s never lost a fight— maybe for a second or two, but he always comes out on top.

         “Really? Last time I saw you, you didn’t end up on top at all,” she teases him, remembering the way she made him beg to fuck her.

         “That was an ambush,” he says. “You just caught me off guard. Won’t happen again, trust me.”

         “Yeah? We’ll see about that, Satoru. I’m disappointed you didn’t actually knock my IUD loose if you’re that strong.”

         “We can always try again.” 

         Satoru is a fucking flirt, a huge one, and she’s starting to like it. Maybe it’s a little Stockholm Syndrome, because they’ve been living together for weeks now, but she’s starting to actually like him. Before, they could’ve fucked again and went their separate ways, and that would be all there is to it.

         But now…

         Now, she doesn’t know. It’s just so easy to fall into a routine with him, to forget the situation and enjoy hanging out with him, despite the looming threat that he might try to kill her someday if she ever loses control.

        There’s chemistry between the two of them, chemistry that’s growing and changing with every day that they spend together. She’s never been one to fall in love or get attached for long, always too ready to move onto the next thing to get caught up in feelings.

         But all of these little moments between them during their time together are adding up, piling on top of each other, until whatever it is between them feels like more. His hand on the small of her back when he passes by her, a gentle touch here and there when she starts to spiral, even a hug one time.

         He says “Morning, beautiful” when she’s just rolled out of bed, curls sticking up in every direction and a sour look on her face. Always with a sarcastic drawl and a shit-eating grin on his face.

         She usually just rolls her eyes about it, but maybe she likes it a little. And he’s funny— the fucking nerve of him to look like that and be funny. She’s never met a man that can make her laugh like he does.

         The way he looks at her now— it’s more than fleeting affection. His gaze is lovestruck. She never thought the icy blue color of his eyes could look so warm. She misses him when he’s gone, and he always gives her the biggest grin when he comes back. Mutual attraction has blossomed and thickened. It’s been weeks of this now, and they’re unlikely friends. 

         They give each other shit when neither of them can seem to say something nice, but when she looks at him, her insides feel tight, like she can’t breathe. She can tell he feels it, too, by the way that he always wants to be close to her. He’ll make any excuse to sit next to her, to put his arm around the back of the couch when they’re smoking together, which has become a little bit of a ritual now. It makes it easier to forget their circumstances and just talk, which they somehow end up doing for hours.

         He always says how much he likes her curls, how much he likes the look on her face when she gets a wicked idea, her smart mouth and her attitude. He likes the way she dances, likes the way her body moves when she’s drunk, and the music is loud.

         She sees the way he looks at her, sees the way he takes care of her when she’s struggling with the memories that won’t leave her alone. They’re coming back thicker now, heavier than they were before. She feels haunted by it all, haunted by the life that she’s lived in complete ignorance to what she really is.

         More than anything, she’s haunted by her father. Sukuna, the worst human-turned-curse that has ever existed, at least in Japan. Why did her mother fall for him? For a fucking monster? And where does that leave Sundari?

         She knows herself; she knows that she can be destructive, she can be cruel. There’s an ache inside of her that longs for violence, an itch that she used to scratch with cage-fights and beating the living fuck out of men who abused sex workers, in her past life. She knows now that even if her causes were righteous and good, she enjoyed it.

         The blood, the violence, the chance to unleash the demon within herself that she knows is there. It’s just beneath her skin.

         In a moment of self-collapse, she tells Satoru the truth.

         “I never wanted to be his daughter,” she says, curled in on herself in her vulnerability, knees pressed to her chest. “I do my fucking best to not be destructive like he is, but everyone— your higher-ups, whoever the fuck else, they’ll only ever see me for these.”

         She gestures to the thick bands of black ink around her wrists.

         “I’ll never be free from people who want to control me for it. I can’t even fucking hide them like he can,” she mutters, frustrated and angry. “And even if I like you, I can’t stay here forever, so what do we do when this is over?”

         “You could work with me,” Satoru offers quietly from where he sits beside her.

         He doesn’t invade her space; he knows that she wouldn’t want him to right now. Instead, he sits with her, and he listens. Patiently, quietly— he doesn’t talk over her, he doesn’t give her solutions unless she asks for them. He’s kind to her, gentle with her when he can tell that she needs it.

         She has no fucking clue what to do with that.

         “And everyone we work with will only ever see me as a monster,” she answers, shaking her head.

         “Maybe, but you don’t have to prove them right,” he says. “You’re nothing like him, Sundari. I’ve talked to him, I’ve seen him. You’re less destructive than you think you are, and you make an effort to be good, to do the right thing. That’s what matters, that’s what makes the two of you so different. He wants violence, you want to control yourself and do the right thing.”

         “Does it matter? Will anyone other than you ever believe me?”

         She looks at the tattoos and despises them, wishes she could scrub them from her skin. This isn’t what she’s ever wanted to be. It wasn’t ever her choice, but the world will treat her like it was.

         “They will if you prove them wrong,” he says.

         A moment of silence lapses between the two of them, as they sit together in the living room, quiet and ruminating. Sundari’s frustration feels like fire in her veins. Even now, she’s struggling to contain everything within her. Her body isn’t big enough to fit all of this power inside it without an outlet.

         “What if we tested it out?” She asks, looking up at him, an idea on the tip of her tongue. “Just a little fight between the two of us— let me see if I can control it without breaking everything and losing control.”

         Satoru’s lips curve up into a hint of a smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask that.”

         She realizes that she’s falling for him in that moment, that all of this forced cohabitation has become something more to her, something that tastes like love on her tongue, even when she can’t bring herself to say it.

         Instead, she says, “Okay. Just don’t cry about it too much when I win.”

         “Ha, I could say the same to you,” he answers, and she knows his words taste like love, too. 

         It’s a friendly fight, Satoru reminds himself, as Sundari lunges for him again. She’s fast— faster than he imagined she would be, and she’s good. Resilient, too. She doesn’t wear down easily— her cursed energy is still thrumming through the air after half an hour of hand-to-hand combat.

         Her fighting style is unique, foreign to Satoru. She wasn’t trained in Japan, that much is clear, based on the way that she moves. The hand signs that she uses when she activates her technique against his are ones he’s never seen before.

         It wears him down to keep up with her unfamiliar movements. If he were anyone else, he’d have lost this fight half an hour ago due to the way she continues to periodically drain his cursed energy.

         But Satoru isn’t just anybody. His reserves are infinite, and he can tell that she’s realizing that, based on the scowl she’s sporting.

         “C’mon, Sundari— stop holding back,” he taunts her, after barely dodging one of her well-timed punches. She’s strong.

And she looks fucking good with a thin sheen of sweat on her skin, whipping around to dodge when he teleports behind her and aims a blow to the middle of her back. She almost blocks it, but he’s quicker than even her eyes can track. It lands, a punch straight to the chest, which sends her flying backwards into a tree.

         That should be the end of it, he thinks, when she gets back up with a wild, feral smile on her face. A little bit of blood trickles down from her lip, and for some god-forsaken reason, his pants feel a little tighter. She lunges for him again, and again. It’s a miss, but she manages to put him on the defensive again. He lifts up into the air to avoid a kick, and she drags him back down, which he counters with an elbow.

         “Stop fucking running if you think I’m holding back,” she taunts him in turn, before he sends her flying off out of view for a split second.

         He thinks that surely another hit like that will make her surrender. God, they’ve been at it all morning. His pulse is racing— he’s never fought anyone as strong as she is. It’s a fucking rush. The blood in his body doesn’t know if it should focus on his brain or his dick. Sundari fights like a warrior, like a goddess.

         She emerges from the tree line with two extra arms extending from her shoulder blades. She rolls them out, unphased at the changes to her body. There’s an extra mouth on her exposed stomach with sharp teeth, grinning at him with the same expression as the one on her face.

         His blood is definitely headed to his dick. That is a goddess. A vengeful, wild goddess. Her curls have come undone, fanning out around her beautifully, while she practically glows with cursed energy. Satoru has wanted her for weeks now, he’s wanted her since he first saw her again, but right now? Satoru needs her.

         He needs to see his goddess sprawled out beneath him, hot and sweaty and snapping at him with her sharp teeth, crying out for more as he fucks her. He wants to feel all four of her arms on him, pulling him in closer, he wants the extra mouth to lick him while his tongue is down her throat.

         She’s on him before he can blink, and this time— he doesn’t hold back.

         The blows shared between them are so rapid, neither has time to think. The sounds of skin meeting skin with dull thuds and their heavy, panting breaths are the only noises to be heard. He can barely regenerate his cursed energy at the same speed that she withers it away, and he realizes distantly that he might have never felt as alive before.

         One failed movement, and he’s on top of her. His own goddess is hissing out curses underneath him, struggling against his strength as he pins her down to the dewy, wet grass beneath them.

         “Yield,” he demands, voice low and breathless.

         “Fuck you,” she spits back, locking her legs around his waist to try and flip him. He doesn’t budge, not this time. There’s only one thing on his mind.

         “Yield, Sundari,” he says again, this time with a coaxing warmth.

         All four of her eyes are wide, pupils dilated to the point that her garnet eyes look black. She still struggles against him, but she’s slowing down, realizing how close they are. Very close, at that. Satoru’s on top of her with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pressed against her at every intimate junction with his fingers fastened around two of her wrists.

         Her other arms have receded back into her, given the position they’re in and the shift of the mood.

         “I said fuck you,” she repeats herself, quieter this time, as her eyes flit between his own and his lips. “I’m not yielding.”

         “You sure?” He murmurs, as his nose brushes hers. “You look like it. You look like you want to.”

That reignites some of her flame, but she pours it into a different approach this time. Always one to move first, she leans up to crash her lips into his. Satoru returns it with even more ferocity, tongue sweeping between her teeth as he presses her down into the grass, groaning against her lips.

         It’s frantic, feverish, the way that she’s tugging at his clothes, and he’s tugging at hers. His cock throbs against the confines of his briefs, as he’s yanking her athletic shorts down her legs and moving his attention to her neck. She nearly growls when he sinks his teeth into her skin, sucking a bruise into the side of her neck.

         She meant it when she said she wasn’t submitting to him, he realizes, as she flips them over with the practiced ease of a fighter, situating herself on top of him. Her hand slips underneath his shirt, desperate for touch and seeking more, more, more of it.

         “Ready to start begging again, Satoru? You did it so well last time,” She purrs, grinning wickedly, as she scrapes her teeth against his collarbone, eager to slip lower.

         “Ha, in your fucking dreams,” he says, before slamming her onto her back.

         She gasps, but he knows she can take it. He’s been fighting with her for an hour and tossed her into more than a few tree trunks, she can handle it. If the wide-eyed look on her face is any indication, she likes it. One hand around her throat, he slips the other down her body and between her thighs to feel her wetness. And god, she’s soaking.

         Circling her clit with his fingertips, he smiles down at her and knows that he looks just as feral as she does. She writhes underneath him, back arching.

         “You got me once, baby. I’ll give you that,” he admits breathlessly, slipping two fingers inside to draw out a strangled moan. “But this time, you’re gonna fucking beg for it. You’re going to tell me how bad you want me to fuck you, and I’ll think about it if you ask nice enough.”

         “You—You’re a fucking dick,” she says, but it’s hard to talk when she’s moaning. “Not begging, not doing it.”

         “Yeah?”

         He knows how she likes it; he remembers her body well. Her pussy sucks in his fingers greedily, as he wraps a hand around her throat and squeezes.

         “You look so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs reverently, honestly. “You’re such a brat too, but you’re gonna take it so good for me, aren’t you? Telling me what a fucking dick I am, while you’re this wet for me?”

         “Fuck you,” she says, but it’s a whine more than anything.

         She’s getting close, he can tell. The adrenaline still pumping through her veins makes it easier to get close without him having to work for it. He’ll edge her time and time again until she’s a mess, slick and wet and crying for him. He traces the tattoos along her chest with his fingertips when he finally releases her throat, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers. Her walls constrict around his fingers, but he retreats before she can cum.

         One, two, three times. He brings her to the edge until she’s all but snapping at him, hissing out curses and whines.

         “Say please, Sundari,” he murmurs, low and taunting. “Say please, and I’ll make you cum. I’ll make you cum so hard— I know you want it, you’re so wet for me.”

         “Fuck— Fuck,” she mewls, rocking her hips against his fingers, as if he’ll let her cum. “Please— Please? Please, Satoru,” she finally relents.

         “Good fucking girl,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her, as he finally lets her stumble over the edge. “So fucking good for me,” he coos against her lips, as she spasms beneath him, whining and humping his fingers through her orgasm.

         The shockwaves of it barely have time to end before he’s slipping his cock into her warmth, hissing out a breath at the way she sucks him in. So wet, and so tight. He can’t help himself, can’t wait a second for her to adjust to his length, he sets a brutal pace in fucking her.

         “So fucking good,” he growls against her lips, biting her lower one until he can taste her blood. “That’s it— fucking take it, take all of it.”

         He maneuvers her over onto all fours, pressing a hand down to the apex of her spine to force her into a severe arch, as she moans incoherently beneath him. The sound of his hips flush against her ass makes him bite his lip, muscles tensing and flexing involuntarily as he tries to hold back from finishing inside her. She’s about to cum, he can tell, but not without permission.

         “Beg for it, tell me how much you fucking want it,” he demands, moving to cover her body with his own, murmuring in her ear. “Know you want it; know you want me to fill up your pussy— don’t you?”

         “Yes— yes— please,” she whines, and Satoru’s ego swells to new heights upon seeing this goddess falling apart underneath him.

         “That’s it, just like that— don’t stop— tell me how much you fucking need it,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, tugging her earlobe between his teeth.

         And she does— she begs beautifully, knees buckling as she trembles through another orgasm. Satoru chases her down to the ground, slamming himself into her over and over again until his entire body seizes up with pleasure. He bites down hard on her shoulder when he comes, filling her up with every drop of his cum.

         The two of them stay like that for a while to catch their breath, still half-clothed and panting against each other in the crater they just fucked into the earth.

         “Still a dick,” she reminds him, which draws a chuckle out of him.

         “You yielded, didn’t you?” He says arrogantly, kissing the nape of her neck as he pulls off of her.

         “You’re hearing things,” she says, sitting up to readjust her top. “I never surrendered to you, and I never will. At least, not in a fight.” She winks at him, and he smiles back at her.

         Fuck, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with her.

         Later that night after a shower and some food, Sundari sleeps in Satoru’s bed for the first time. It feels natural, after all they’ve done. They fucked again after that— inside, this time, rather than outside in the wet grass. Neither of them broached the topic of feelings, but they both know it’s there. Something intangible but real settling between the two of them.

         After such a long day, she falls asleep almost immediately, only to be plagued by dreams again.

         This one, however, is different from the rest.

         She’s standing in her hometown, far from Japan and Satoru and everything else. Back in her old life, where she was The Godslayer, dressed in the trappings of a demigoddess worshiped by her people. This isn’t uncommon in her dreams, but she has an unexpected visitor in this one.

         A monk, it seems. His hair is black and long, silky as he moves toward her with a deceptively serene smile on his face. Stitches sit on his forehead, which draws her attention and makes her wary.

         “Sundari,” he says. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you. Gojo Satoru has made it exceedingly difficult to reach you in the past few months.”

         Immediately, she’s suspicious. Whoever this monk is, she doesn’t like the energy he emanates. She doesn’t like the look on his face— so calm, so unbothered, he must be hiding something.

         “And what do you want?” She asks, straight to the point.

         He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want something from her. Satoru warned her that the higher-ups of the jujutsu society might not be the only people that are looking for her. This monk strikes familiarity somewhere within her, as if she’s seen him before but can’t remember it for some reason.

         “Still as blunt as ever, I see,” he says, sitting next to her. “I have a proposition for you.”

         “Of course you do.”

         “Sukuna has returned, as has your power,” he says. “Do you know why you were sealed?”

         She grits her teeth, unwilling to answer. He knows something that she doesn’t, but she’s not naive enough to be tempted by whatever he’s offering until she knows what he wants in exchange for it.

         “I’ll take that as a no,” he says in her silence. “There are so many mysteries surrounding you, most of which are unknown even to you. Your father, who he is and how you came to be. The seals on your back, an entire life lived that you can only remember bits and pieces of.”

         She thinks of her mother in that moment. Nadja would know, she’s certain. The monk has piqued her curiosity— of course she wants to know who she was before her memories disappeared, and of course she wants to know about her father, even if she’d never admit it aloud.

         If she had to ask anyone, it would be her mom.

         Seemingly reading her mind, the monk laughs. “Nadja thinks of you as a child, even after all these years. She’d never tell you anything.”

         “And I’m guessing you can,” she says, annoyed at this long-winded speech.

         “Correct,” he agrees. “I can reveal it all to you, shed light on every shadow in your life. I’ve watched you closely since you were born, Sundari. I even helped to put those seals on your back after you slaughtered that town.”

         Sundari’s eyes grow wide, horrified at the implication.

         “What do you want?” She demands again.

         “I want your cooperation in the coming days,” he offers nonchalantly. “Sukuna will regain his full power sooner rather than later, and he’ll fight alongside me in an… event that I’m planning. You could meet him for yourself, let him tell you about his relationship with Nadja, and I could fill in all of those blank spots that you can’t stop obsessing over.” 

         “So, you want to have control over me when you do something big and fucked up in the future,” she says with an eyeroll. “Got it.”

         She seemingly cannot stop running into people that want to control her or collar her. Even Satoru isn’t immune to that. As much as she likes to live in the fantasy of their relationship, she knows that his goal at the end of this is to contain her. In that way, he’s not so different to the monk.

         “I want to work with you,” he corrects her. “In exchange, you’ll know everything, including your father. I know you’re not interested now, you think you have other options, so I’ll give you time. When you realize that I’m the only source for uncovering the mysteries your mother keeps from you, I’ll find you. Until then, Sundari.”

         He presses a hand to her shoulder, a way of saying goodbye, and she wakes with a sharp gasp, bolting upright in the bed.

         Satoru is awake in an instant, eyeing her warily in the darkness. 

         “Nightmare?” He asks groggily. 

         For a moment, she considers keeping it to herself, just in case. Deep inside, she knows that even if Satoru likes her— even if he loves her— his ultimate goal is not so different to the monk. He wants to control her; he wants her freedom. She’s given it to him by agreeing to stay here willingly for so long, why should she offer up more of herself to someone who will use her like a pawn? 

         They all do. That’s all she is to them. Whether it’s the monk, or Satoru, or the higher-ups, or her mother— they want to own her, to contain her. They want her collared and docile, so that she doesn’t self-destruct and take the world down with her, like Sukuna. 

         “What do you want out of this?” She asks, defensive and guarded. 

         Satoru sits up, shaking his head at her. “What do you mean?” 

         “What do you want from this? From me? What’s your goal?” 

         “To protect you,” he says. “I’ve told you that from the beginning—” 

         “No— you know I don’t need protecting. What is it? Is it just control?” 

         No one has ever protected Sundari, nor have they ever needed to. She’s been on her own, and she’s been fine that way. If anything, she’s always been the protector, the savior, the one who helps when things go to shit, and someone needs muscle to deal with it. 

         “Control?” He asks, huffing out a laugh. “Is that what you think this is?” 

         “What should I think? Why else would you keep me here?” 

         He scoffs. “I don’t know what you saw in that dream, but the past month you’ve been here, the only thing I’ve done is protect you. The higher-ups want you dead, god knows who else wants you dead— I keep them away from you,” he says, unwavering. “I just want to keep you safe, to make sure that no one wants to use you for their own gain.” 

         “So that you can use me instead, right? At the end of this? I’m powerful, so you need to contain me, collar me, make sure I don’t fuck you over—” 

         “Sundari,” he says sharply, cutting her off. “Do you think I could control you, even if I wanted to? If you wanted to leave here right now and go be a force of fucking nature, do you think I could stop you?” 

         She stares at him, unsure of her answer. Could he? 

         “You’re not a pawn to me, you are not something I need to keep under my thumb,” he continues. “You’re an equal to me,” he admits softly. “In every way, I see you as an equal, and the only thing I’ve ever wanted is to keep you away from people who won’t see you that way.” 

         “Why?” She murmurs, uncharacteristically soft and fragile. 

         “I love you,” he says. “I— I don’t know if it’s too soon, or— fuck, I don’t know, but I do. I love you, love the way you laugh, love your bad attitude, love the way you fuss and fight with me. I want to be with you— I don’t want to take your freedom, I want to work alongside you, just– I want to be near you,” he murmurs. 

         “You love me?” She mumbles, leaning closer. 

         “I love you,” he repeats, placing a hand on her cheek. His eyes scan along her face for any reaction. “That’s all there is. I don’t care what you are, or what other people think you are, I just want to keep you safe.” 

         Maybe she can believe him, if only for right now. The monk’s offer is still on the table, still a temptation that she’ll have to grapple with, but this is real. She’s never been looked after before like this, she’s never had anyone feel the need to protect her, to keep her safe. She’s always been strong— when has there ever been the need for it?

         But Satoru is strong, too, and she understands the way he feels. She wants to protect him, too, whatever the cost may be. If anything happened to him, she’d lose her fucking mind, she’d destroy everything in her path. 

         “Okay— Okay. I’ll work with you,” she murmurs, pressing her forehead to his. A little grin creeps up on her face. “Under the condition that I want strong opponents— I want to fight people that are worth it.” 

         “Done,” he says, smiling back at her. “Are you okay?” 

         “Yeah,” she breathes. “I— I love you. It might be too soon, but–” 

         He kisses her before she can say another word, and for the time-being, they’re happy. 

Writing © 2024 @septembersums and posted with permission. Sundari Hikmat © 2024 @osunism. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging original posts is okay]. This includes my masterlist and fic format as well as feeding my writing to an AI garbage machine. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.