Multi-fandom blog

Be a pineapple: stand tall, wear a crown, and be sweet on the inside.

[applejuice382-moved]

“Hey guys,” Stiles greets as he steps through the door and kicks it shut behind him with his heel.

His eyes immediately find Derek. He’s on the side of the couch closest to Stiles, leaning against the armrest with his head propped up by a fist. Derek’s eyes don’t leave the TV as Stiles enters, but Stiles can tell from his body language his attention has shifted to completely focus on him, and he can feel that Derek’s pleased at his arrival through the mating bond. It pulls a smile out of Stiles.

Isaac, who’s lounging on his side in front of the TV, glances at him over his shoulder. “Oh, hey, man. I didn’t know you were coming.”

Boyd lifts his hand with a smile in a quiet hello from where he sits on opposite end of the couch. Cora, who’s sitting sideways in the loveseat, just glances at him before looking away.

“Hey, loser,” Erica greets cheerfully as she enters the room from the kitchen. She has a few beers held between her fingers in both hands while she hugs a bowl of popcorn to her chest.

Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Why do you guy even drink if you can’t even get drunk?”

“Does it matter?” Cora drawls.

“I like the taste,” Boyd answers.

Erica sighs. “I like to hope.”

Isaac shrugs. “I do it because everyone else does. Peer pressure and whatnot.”

Stiles eyes the TV that sets the dark loft aglow as he crosses the space. “What’re we watching?”

“Something dumb,” Isaac mutters.

“You’re dumb,” Erica throws a beer at Isaac that he easily catches. “Buffy is culture.”

“It’s a little on the nose.”

“Oh, come on. None of the stuff in there is accurate. Just watch it like any other fictional show.” She settles into a spot on the floor next to Isaac, but rests her back against the couch between Boyd’s legs.

“Exactly,” Isaac says, grabbing a greedy handful of popcorn from the bowl and shoveling it in his mouth. “The werewolf representation is just terrible.”

“It’s a show.”

“He’s a ginger!”

While Erica and Isaac argue, Stiles moves to settle next to Derek on the couch. Derek watches him with the intensity that he always does, but it still has the back of Stiles’ neck heating.

Derek subtly spreads one of his legs out a little more, invitation obvious, but Stiles purposely sits next to him rather than on him.

And despite the fact he settles so close that the entire left side of his body is in contact with Derek, from shoulder to knee, and despite the fact that Derek immediately has an arm resting on the back of the couch around Stiles, displeasure still ripples down the bond.

Stiles rolls his eyes as he snags one of the beers next to Erica. Dude, I’m not sitting on your lap.

Why not?

We’re in front of everyone.

And?

No!

It’s fine, Stiles. It’s normal for werewolves. Erica’s all over Boyd, no one cares.

I’m not a werewolf, and I’m definitely not Erica. It’d be mortifying and I’m not doing it.

Derek looks at him with something distinctly unhappy on his face, then grabs Stiles’ thigh and hooks it over his own.

Stiles shoots him an unimpressed look, but Derek looks right back at him with a raised eyebrow, satisfied pettiness echoing down the bond.

Stiles rolls his eyes and shoves his beer into Derek’s chest. Open this.

You can’t? Derek asks, but still easily flicks the cap off with his claw, letting it clatter somewhere behind the couch.

I can, Stiles grabs it from him and takes a sip. But why would I when I have a werewolf to do it for me?

He thinks Derek tries to seem annoyed with him, but his small smile is just a little too smug to sell it. It doesn’t help that Stiles can feel the ripple of pleasure Derek always gets from doing something for him. So stupid, Stiles thinks, trying not to smile himself.

“Hey lovebirds,” Erica kicks Stiles’ leg, startling him. “Cut it with the creepy mind shit and pass the remote so I can hit play.”

“Please,” Cora grumbles with disgust.

Derek grabs the remote off of the side table and chucks it in her direction without looking. Erica snatches it out of the air and points it at the TV, settling back between Boyd’s legs. Isaac’s busy shoveling more popcorn in his mouth as he lounges across the rug, and Cora settles back further into her chair.

The episode begins to play, recorded on the DVR at some point from a replay channel, likely by Erica. Stiles has no idea what episode it is, but it’s clearly well into the show.

Isaac and Erica make comments as the episode plays, sometimes to the TV, sometimes still arguing with each other.

Boyd is playing with Erica’s hair. He runs his fingers through the dyed blonde strands, sometimes braiding it, all the while his gaze stays focused on the screen.

The rain gently patters against large expanse of window panes to his right, as well as the skylight above him. It’s dark and stormy, and the only light in the room comes from the TV in front of them, casting a colorful glow against the room as the episode plays.

Stiles closes his eyes and sighs, sagging into Derek a little more. He’s warm, he smells good, and the chatter is nice. There’s a very good chance Stiles falling asleep here.

Stiles taps into the bond as he takes another sip of his beer, enjoying the waves of emotion that gently lap over him. Derek is pleased at having Stiles so close and pressed against him. He likes having his pack around him, too — relaxed, happy, laughing. Something distinctly alpha in him is soothed by all of it.

Stop snooping, Derek tells him, completely amused and not actually meaning it.

Feels nice, Stiles answers anyway with a small smile on his lips.

[vestatsk]

[versias]

Bruce Wayne’s soulmate died when he was 17.

At the time, it was just another senseless tragedy in the misery that was his life. He was too wrapped up in his grief for his parents and his planning for his mission to really think about what it meant when the words on his wrist drained of color.

Later, he would wonder about the person he had been fated to be with and how they died. Secretly, guiltily, Bruce was relieved that whatever had happened to them had happened before they met. He wasn’t sure he could take another tragedy in his life.

—————

Prompt: Danny is Bruce Wayne’s soulmate. Unfortunately, Danny died when he was 14. Like with all soul marks, his drained of color when its mate died. Danny’s mark is its match, but vibrant and full of life. He’s happy to have finally found him but… how on earth is he going to convince his soulmate that he is who he says he is???

[versias]

When an unknown hero swooped down to tear the attacker off Batman, his first instinct was to growl at them for being in his city. But the truth of the matter was, with an alien invasion underway, Gotham needed all the help it can get.

Even his rogues, at least the ones with enough sanity and self-preservation, were helping. Ivy’s vines speared through invaders and trip up their war machines, setting them up for Harley to smash through with her giant hammer. He had seen Bane earlier, tearing the head off an alien war-beast.

An unknown wasn’t unwelcome but he didn’t like not knowing. He quickly catalogued their appearance for later, despite the camera hidden in his suit that would have captured the whole thing.

The hero glowed with a faint, white light that reminded Batman of the Lantern corps, but there was no power ring visible and the symbol on their chest wasn’t one of theirs. Shock-white hair floated about their head like it would underwater. There was something about them that felt unbounded and empty, as if gravity simply didn’t hold them. Impossibly pale skin, almost see-through. In fact, it was see-through, because Batman could see the faint silhouette of the invader attempting to charge them.

He reacted, pulling a batarang from his pouch and throwing it like a discus. It lodges in the extra flesh of the monster’s chest and detonates on impact, throwing it back and off the edge of the building. He hears it slam into the concrete below.

“Oh, thanks! Heh, came down here to help you out but apparently you had it covered!” They have an easy smile filled with glittering white teeth and sharply pointed canines. Fangs? Supernatural creature, maybe, or alien.

Their eyes were green. But not. Not green in the sense of a forest or seafoam. Green like something toxic, something inhuman. Otherworldly. They stared down at him and he felt his soul laid bare. He couldn’t quite look away.

Vaguely, he wondered if this was some low level compulsion—perhaps an involuntary aspect of their powers.

Or maybe he can’t stop staring because they are beautiful. Like some kind of deity descended, free and uninhibited, they glowed with an assurance of protection and safety. Bruce took a quiet, shuddering breath and forced himself to blink.

“Batman,” he rumbled, nodding a greeting.

The being looked confused for a moment before the expression cleared.

“I know. I’m Danny. Or Phantom if you want. Secret identities don’t really matter when you’re mostly dead.”

They said this with a wry smirk, like they’re sharing a joke.

Mostly dead. Undead creature? Specter, poltergeist. Hell, it’s in the name. Phantom.

He couldn’t tell their age or gender. They were long and lean and stretched languidly in the air. There was something timeless about their face. Unbound from aging by death. Something welled in his chest, but he doesn’t let it show on his body. Couldn’t let it affect him.

Danny did not seem upset at the mention of their death. To show pity or remorse for them would be. Rude, he thought.

Batman grappled down from the rooftop. He was quietly pleased when Phantom followed. They fell into an easy rhythm; they had already displayed unnatural strength, and they had occasion to show off a powerful energy blast. As one might have expected from a ghost, he was capable of going invisible and intangible. Batman directed him like he would Martian Manhunter and the specter followed his orders without quibble.

They seemed content to defer to him. That was good, and not necessarily a given among other heroes. It took a big personality to put on a colorful suit and wear a moniker. To make oneself into an idea and reinforce it with one’s actions.

How did Phantom come to be a hero as they are? What pushed the dead to rise and fight for others when anyone would say the fight had finished for them? Was Phantom a hero before their end and simply refused to quit?

He didn’t ask those questions. There was work to do, people to save, rescue efforts to bolster and lead.

When the Justice League called for his help, he was strangely alright with leaving Gotham in the hands of his children, their allies, and this ghost of a hero.

————

The next time Bruce saw the ghost hero, Phantom, it was in a fuzzy, staticky image from the suit cams. He had not managed to speak with them before they disappeared from the battlefield, gone as quickly as they’d appeared. Back to wherever ghosts went when they weren’t saving lives, probably. He had heard from his children how Phantom raced to their aid whenever they needed it. They displayed far more abilities than Bruce had considered when he contemplated the nature of a spirit. Duplication, cryokinesis or possibly a thermokintetic ability if the ghostly flame they could conjure was not an illusion.

Tim in one video asked for the Phantom’s pronouns.

“He/him is fine.”

Bruce made a note in the file.

Phantom was effortlessly open, quick with a joke or a helping hand or a kind smile. Bruce took a screenshot of the image of Phantom’s smile as he helped them Spoiler to her feet. He dragged it into the file.

He took stills of each power use when possible. The way he held firm under an energy shield while Jason poured bullets into a war-beast made Bruce feel a little flutter somewhere in his stomach.

He frowned at himself and shook his head. He wasn’t stupid; he could recognize attraction when he felt it. He just wasn’t sure if was a good idea given their relative states of living.

Mostly dead, he’d said. His brain whispered, like a traitor, ‘Mostly Dead’ could mean ‘somewhat alive’. Haven’t we all died at one point or another?

Something on the screen caught his eye. Phantom dove in front of an energy attack aimed at his youngest, Robin. If he’d been closer, he could have grabbed the boy and gone intangible. He wasn’t, though, and had chosen to put himself in the line of fire instead. Foolish, reckless, but Bruce couldn’t help but feel overwhelming gratitude.

“Tt. I could have gotten out of the way,” Robin declared from behind the camera.

The spirit laughed a delighted laugh. “I’m sure you could have! Sorry, little guy, instincts took over!”

Danny’s suit and skin had been damaged in the blast. Bruce watched in interest as the skin began to regenerate, blackened flesh flaking off as new skin emerged beneath. The suit he wore was growing back too, almost like it was a skin as well. Bruce still managed to make out the shape of a tattoo. Or maybe a.

Bruce froze the screen. He stared hard at the flash of pale, pale skin. The black and blue image of a bird in flight, ringed in green that he could swear was glowing though it emitted no light.

Bruce yanked off his glove and stared at his wrist, where the image of a bird in flight stained his skin, black and empty of any color.

A soulmark.

His soulmark.

His soulmate who had died when he was seventeen. At the time it had been just another senseless tragedy in his miserable life. He had been too wrapped up in his own grief to think of the pain of losing a soulmate. It had almost been a relief to think at least he wouldn’t lose them after they met.

It’s him. It’s him. It’s him.

Bruce was trembling.

“Phantom,” he whispered, tasting it on his tongue. “Danny.”

Mostly dead.

Partially alive?

————

Alfred found him like that, staring at the frozen image on the screen, holding his bare wrist in the other hand.

Well, now, he thought.

He would have to prepare a room for Master Phantom.

What did ghosts eat, he wondered?

[re-overload]

[Obikin Mermay AU]

prev au

Just a silly mermay AU where Anakin is an octopus merman and Obi-Wan is a siren (and a bird).

A bit more details is under cut

Obi-Wan is a siren. Many years ago, he and his father were imprisoned on a faraway island by a tyrant. Obi-Wan's father was a skilled craftsman, and so he made wings for himself and his son. He warned Obi-Wan, "Do not fly too high and beware of the sun." However, Obi-Wan, delighted by the feel of freedom, flew too close to the sun, and the gods saw it as arrogance. They crushed his wings, and Obi-Wan fell into the ocean. His father thought his son was dead and had no choice but to fly away.

However, it was not the end for Obi-Wan. As a punishment, he was turned into a siren. His duty now is to find the souls lost in the sea and guide them to the afterlife. And if there are no souls to collect, he lives on the island alone. Well, until he met Anakin.

Anakin is a bit of an outcast among the other merpeople. He and his mother lived away from others, since some of the mermen were convinced she was a witch. There were even rumors she turned a mermaid into a human! A complete nonsense, really. Anakin would know if she did something like that. After her death, the same rumors follow Anakin now. And while he can turn someone into a slug if they annoy him long enough or heal some minor wounds, he prefers to keep it to himself and stays away from the rest. He'd rather explore some old shipwrecks and collect curious little objects made by humans.

Anakin met Obi-Wan on one of such escapades. An odd bird fell from the sky, hit by an arrow (a scared sailor thought it was a bad omen) and Anakin took it to the shore and healed it. And the bird turned out to be a siren.

And they lived happily ever after.That's it, no bad endings here!

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: Online Siren

Danny makes a mistake. Or maybe he struck gold. Depending on the perspective you were looking through.

It starts one night when Sam, Tucker, Danny, and Jazz get together for a private party on Tucker's birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had let them have the whole house to themselves on the agreement that it would only be the four of them. They would be keeping an eye on the security camera and motion detectors around the property. At the slightest hints of Tucker having a house party, the pair would return from Mr. Foley's sister's house to shut it down.

The group of teenagers were more than happy not to invite anyone. It's not like anyone would show- at least not with good intentions. They had an entire night plan- coffee drinks based on their types, video games, boardgames ones, painting hour, karaoke, movies, and cake after presents.

They all pitched in for pizza, and Sam offered to buy everyone breakfast in the morning. The party started at four and would end at ten the following morning. The boys would sleep in Tucker's room while Sam and Jazz crashed in the guest room together.

Danny hadn't had that much fun in such a long time that he didn't even shy away from Sam's video camera while singing. The youngest Fenton has always had a fantastic singing voice, but his stage fright has stopped him from showing off his skill in front of anyone who was not close friends or family.

The following morning, while eating at Tucker's favorite breakfast restaurant, Sam checked her phone after noticing all the buzzing. Danny could catch her face turning pastly white at whatever was on her screen. She taps aggressively, nearly frantically, which gains the attention of Tucker and Jazz.

"Sam? Everything good?" Jazz asks gentely.

"I..no..I'm sorry, Danny," She whispers after staring hopelessly at her screen. "I meant to save it in our private share, not...the anonymous one."

"What?"

"I...post poetry anonymously on this voice website. It's audio recordings only." She explains, placing the phone on the table. Her voice is hesitant. "Last night....I accidentally posted the video of you singing from the Karaoke machine I saved. The one from the Realms. And some of my followers saved it and shared it. It's trending."

Danny feels his stomach drop into his legs. "What?"

"No one knows who you are!" Sam blurts as Tucker quickly pulls out his own phone. A few seconds later, Danny's voice blares out of his speaker, the melody blending well with his singing. The Karaoke has a recording option that deletes background noise, making it far more professional than four teenagers dancing around the Foley's coffee table.

"Dude, this sounds amazing," Tucker says after a moment. "I can't believe I finally have a recording of your singing. Just look at these comments!"

The song is an open domain in the Infinite Realms, telling the tell of the first King's fall. It's rather popular for its revolutionary themes and near musical lyrics that blended with the rapid flute melody, so finding a ghost willing to share a Karaoke version took nearly no effort. People online think Danny was the songwriter.

The song on Sam's page had ninty-thousand listens, with just as many downloads- each download places ten cents in her account. So far, Danny's singing has made nine thousand dollars. It's only been twelve hours!

It got so much traction because Damian Wayne had made an edit with a popular anime and posted it on his personal account. His small usage had exploded Danny's song in only a few hours.

"Take it down!" Danny hisses, slapping a hand over Tucker's screen and glancing at nearby tables. "Sam, please take your post down."

"I did! I swear! But it's too late to stop it from spreading on the WorldClip." She tells him, and Danny's heart feels like it will explode until Jazz gently speaks up.

"Sam, can Danny have those nine grand?"

His best friend blinks momently, thrown by the question before she nods, "Of course! It's his money."

"Hmm." Jazz taps her fingers under her chin before turning Danny's face towards her. It's not until her gentle pats on his back that he realizes he is hyperventilating. "You should post more on that anonymous website. Sam can write the songs, Tucker can make the music, and you can sing."

"What!?" He choked, shocked she would even ask him. Tucker and Sam are eyeing them with wide eyes, frozen in their seats. No one knew where the fear had come from, but the two knew how badly Danny reacted to the idea of performing.

Tucker first met Danny when the boy panicked in the music room. After it was announced, the students would be singing Twinkle Little Star in the first grade. It was the first time Tucker had ever called nine-one-one, too.

He was praised as a hero, while Danny was scolded for overreacting. Tucker had held his hand until the sobbing boy's parents came to pick him up and has never left his side since.

"Danny, this fear has always left you in shambles. I think it would help you. This could be a form of exposal therapy," She says, then shrugs her shoulder. "Think about it. No one will know who you are, but your music could reach thousands without you ever having to show your face. You could pay for the college you wanted to go to in Gotham this way. All of you."

Neither Danny's nor Tucker's parents could afford to send them to Gotham University despite it being their dream school. Sam's parents refused to pay for a "useless" degree such as Botany. They had been growing uneasy with the realization dreams were not always promised as the end of the senior year approached in only a few short months.

They would never ask it of him, but Danny could see the genuine hope tucked in their eyes as they waited for his response. He licked his lips, feeling his heart still beating a mile a minute under his rib cage.

He didn't like being this paralyzed by an irrational fear. He also really wanted to help them reach their dreams.

So Danny opens his mouth and whispers, "Only until we can get to Gotham to find jobs"

Jazz's smile is bright.

________________________________________________________

A few months later, Damian practically runs Tim over in his rush to connect to the game room's surround system. Jon is hot on his heels and has the decency to shout an apology as the pre-teens rush by.

"Hey! Watch it!" He still screams at their backs, irritated. "I could've dropped my croissant!"

"Sorry again Tim!"

"You're fat anyway, Drake!"

Tim rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold on his plate as Dick rounds the corner that the children had appeared from. "What's got them rushing?"

"Online Siren just dropped a new song." Dick laughs. "Dami is a bit of a fan."

"Online Siren?"

"That's right, you were in space for five months. Online Siren is this anonymous singer that everyone is going crazy over on the internet. He's an amazing singer, but because no one knows anything about him. Not even Babs."

Tim raises a brow. "He could be using autotune."

"Maybe, but Tim, I'm telling you. Listen to his music, and you'll find you can't stop. Siren is a fitting name."

"He can't be that good," Tim mutters, following his eldest brother into the game room, where Damian and Jon have blared the speakers to the loudest setting and dancing around.

Tim draws up short at the sight of Damian Wayne actually crying as he sings along to the lyrics, acting as if the singer was right there in front of him and he was a long-time fan.

Then, the music invades his ears, and Tim feels like he is ascending on a different plane. The smooth, near silk-like voice glinds into his chest, rattling his bones, and his knees shake when the man holds a soft, seductive "Oh" for a few seconds longer then necessary.

It sends shivers down his spine.

"What is this!? It's so good!" He screams at the dancing Dick, who laughs.

"I know, right!?"

"It's too good. I think this is a real siren." Tim continues, pressing his hands over his ears. His mind flashes back to the few months he spent with his team, running for a mind-controlling alien that had nearly trapped them in the third space sector. "Dick, we're in danger! Get around from the speakers! Mind control!"

Dick stops dancing with a sigh, muttering under his breath as Tim rushes to the control panel of the speaker system. As soon as he slams it off, Damian releases a screech of an angered cat and launches at him, demanding his music back. Jon flouts nervously on the side as the two youngest Waynes brothers roll on the ground, yelling insults and taking dirty shots.

"I wish I could enjoy things with my siblings without them ruining it." He mumbles, striding forward to break up the fight, only to scream when Tim pulls out pepper spray, yowling like a madman.

"Mind control! Mind control!"

"My EYES! "

"Drake, stop!"

"You'll never get me Siren! Never!"

".I'm going to go get Mr.Wayne!"

"Make haste, Jon! Bring my father to stop this baffoon-my eyes! Drake, you bastard!"

[melioristicbeast]

He's definitely still asleep

[available on redbubble]

[agoodquestionamigo]

I yearn for demon!sy Au ngl Like hoe for hoe liushen basis(⁠ ⁠´⁠◡⁠‿⁠ゝ⁠◡⁠`⁠)

We all know that lqg pretty much would fight a tree if it threatens him somehow and mixed with demon culture... He's living a playboy life he doesn't even know he does.

D!Sy on the other hand seems like some sort of saint who doesn't concern himself with something as trivial as flirting for the demons but in the human realm? That boy has a reputation worthy to compare to bingge. He's the living role model most flirty people strive to be

When they get together, both realms are mad disappointed. Because what do you mean the one dude who never showed romantic interest suddenly bagged the one who flirts more than they talk? Best part is that it could go both from the demon realm perspective and the human realm perspective.

[red-garden]

Demon realm magazine: CULTIVATOR WHORE Peak Lord Liu Qingge, famous for hitting it and quitting it with every sentient creature in the 3 realms, finally settled down with Lord of Rot, Shen Yuan, previously presumed to be aromantic.

Human realm magazine: Demonic Lord of Rot Shen Yuan— known as a temptress to most cultivators for his indecent dress, lack of personal boundaries, and casual attitude about spending the night— allegedly betrothed to Bai Zhan’s War God, an ascetic in all but name?!

Both Liu Qingge and Shen Yuan in their diaries: He’s just so cool and suave and he has so much experience... there’s no way he’d want to go out with a loser like me! 

[ghostie-ghosty]

Lex is just mad he isn't the gay awakening

[narutothoughts]

There's too little freaky shika/naru shadow jutsu smut out there

Like I want Shikamaru to be insanely motivated to learn his clan's jutsu bc he is a freaky MF with so many ideas of what he wants to be able to do to Naruto

Like I want him being known as a someone groundbreaking, who takes their clan jutsu to new levels, who has his applications of it lauded publicly, only for the one reason he's actually doing all that being that he is one horny fucker who spends so much time daydreaming about how he's going to pleasure Naruto

He realized that there are shadows inside of Naruto that he’s never controlled before and goes about correcting that immediately

A Nara has never been so motivated

It just happens to be a transferable skill to actually kill people by suffocating them or puncturing their organs from the inside

[finebella]

[narutothoughts]

Naruto who actually has a rly strong gag reflex so he is STRUGGLING the first time he tries to deep throat shikamaru so his eyes are literally tearing up because he wants to do this so bad but it’s so uncomfortable and he might actually heave

So Shikamaru is looking at this pretty blond on his knees for him, looking up at him with big teary eyes so full of disappointment because he’s having a hard time taking his cock so he tugs him off a little from where he’s trying again and is like “I can make the gagging stop if you want”

But his hand is still in his hair so when Naruto goes to pull back to answer he can’t. So he just has to nod with Shika still in his mouth.

Naruto likes the feel of Shika paralyzing his throat muscles a little too much.

And OMFG paralyze that man outside the door while they do some crazy shit and Shika makes Naruto beg him for it

Fully “tell me no one else means anything to you compared to me. No one else could do this for you, you know that don’t you?”

Or him being particularly cruel and saying he saw Sasuke stare at him earlier. Was he being a slut and doing something to make him stare? Did he want Sasuke to stare? Was he not getting enough attention from him so he had to find it elsewhere?

And Naruto’s already sobbing at this point because they have been going AT IT. So he’s just kinda babbling and moaning and crying like no I love you. I don’t love him. I dont want him. I don’t want anyone else’s attention but yours. I only need you. Please please please I’ll be so good. Please

All while Sasuke is frozen listening to this :)

[meoowwxx]

commission book jon snow hc

[nyoomerr]

SY as a disciple on another peak? It's just very amusing to imagine LBH desperately scrabbling to get onto THAT peak, clearly there's been some sort of MISTAKE, he's supposed to be over there!!

lbh would just keep showing up like a stray dog, lmao. here's some qian cao peak disciple!sy taking care of little binghe!

---

As a reader, Shen Yuan had been under the impression that everyone knew about Luo Binghe nearly immediately. Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge fought over him at the disciple selection, only for Shen Qingqiu to treat the poor bun like shit, thereby causing a whole separate fuss as Yue Qingyuan unjustly defended the abusive actions of his scum shidi. That sort of thing was basically begging to be treated like hot gossip - surely, in a sect full of teenagers, news of Luo Binghe would travel nearly as quickly as he arrived on the peak!

So why is it, exactly, that the first Shen Yuan hears about Luo Binghe is the demon invasion that takes place years after Luo Binghe’s arrival?!

Was there no gossip after all? Are Qian Cao disciples really that busy that they don’t hear the gossip?! No, no - Qian Cao would obviously get the most gossip; every other peak visits Qian Cao regularly, and half of them end up high on pain meds while here, unable to filter most of their thoughts! If there had been gossip about Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan would have heard it first! He had been listening the hardest!!

In front of him, Luo Binghe shifts awkwardly. “Um, Shixiong…”

Shen Yuan feels like he’s been struck by an arrow. 

Ah! Shixiong!! He called me ‘Shixiong’!! Luo Binghe’s Shixiong!! I could be Luo Binghe’s Shixiong!!!!! …Wait, no, the seniority of the peaks -

“Shixiong, is something wrong?” Luo Binghe asks hesitantly.

A second arrow!!! Shen Yuan is going to keel over and die, right here in the middle of the medicinal peak, because Luo Binghe keeps calling him ‘Shixiong’!!!

“Of course not,” Shen Yuan says, before gathering all his strength to tack on: “Shidi.”

Fuck the seniority of the peaks, to be this golden bun’s Shixiong is to ascend early!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says. He shifts again, looking around the small triage room they’re in. 

The triage room he’d been directed to because he’d just finished fighting an unfair battle against a demon elder. Right. That triage room.

Shen Yuan clears his throat, smiles awkwardly, clears his throat again, and promptly begins treatment. The best pain medicine Qian Cao offers, the most expensive healing ointments, a tincture for general strength and wellness, a tea for good sleep - so what if Shen Yuan has to pull some of these things out of his personal stores? That’s Luo Binghe, and he’s bearing far more injuries than those that came from his battle with the demon! 

He does his best to keep up friendly chatter the whole time, too - asking after Luo Binghe’s studies, backpedaling immediately and telling him what a good patient he is, asking after Luo Binghe’s friends, backpedaling again and telling him what a sweet boy he is - 

Normal bedside manner. Shen Yuan is very good at that sort of thing, as a senior disciple of Qian  Cao. 

Unfortunately, Shen Yuan eventually runs out of injuries to treat. He very badly wishes there was some sort of medical sanctions he could pull out of his ass to keep Luo Binghe on Qian Cao - something about the injuries on his back looking more like whip lashes than normal training injuries or wounds from the demonic invasion, something about the injuries looking like abuse - but Shen Yuan already knows there isn’t. 

Only the peak lord could pull that sort of authority over Luo Binghe’s own Shizun; if Shen Yuan tried to do anything himself he’d end up in a diplomatic battle over it.

In the end, all he can do is pat Luo Binghe’s head a few times (and then a few times more, his hair is so soft now that Shen Yuan has carefully washed it out under the pretense of medical necessity for cleanliness!) and send him on his way.

Still, Shen Yuan cannot tolerate letting Luo Binghe suffer on Qing Jing, now that he knows Luo Binghe is there. He’ll have to find some excuses to run errands over there, or -

“Shixiong,” Luo Binghe calls from outside the disciple halls, looking shyly over at Shen Yuan.

Or, Shen Yuan thinks, more than a bit surprised, Luo Binghe will just show up for treatment on his own…?

Shen Yuan scrambles over to Luo Binghe, gently patting his head and turning his face this way and that and carefully running his hands over his shoulders, trying to figure out what’s wrong. 

“Ah, Binghe, did I miss something yesterday? Shit - I mean, uh, shoot, you’re too young and cute to be cursing just yet, you hear me?”

Luo Binghe nods obediently, then shakes his head. “Shixiong didn’t miss anything,” he clarifies.

“Oh, good,” Shen Yuan says, letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders.

Shen Yuan of course put his best foot forward when treating Luo Binghe the other day, but he isn’t the peak’s best healer - he’d chosen Qian Cao to study poisons and rare flora and spiritual plants, not actual healing. He’d only been helping treat patients the day of the demonic invasion because half their best healers were missing! 

“If Binghe’s alright, what can this -” Shen Yuan breathes deep, savors the feeling, “- this Shixiong do for you?”

Luo Binghe glances up at him shyly, big wet eyes peeking out from long lashes. Ah, the pinnacle of perfection, for a cute little boy!! 

“I… tripped,” Luo Binghe says hesitantly. 

Shen Yuan blinks down at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe swallows thickly.

“On my back,” he adds. “And bruised it like - like the bruises Shixiong treated yesterday.”

“Bruises,” Shen Yuan echoes incredulously, which he thinks is a rather restrained response to hearing the sweet baby protagonist talk about lash marks as if they were mere bruises.

Luo Binghe nods, still looking up at Shen Yuan pleadingly. Shen Yuan sighs; it’s better to be able to treat Luo Binghe’s injuries than not to, even if Luo Binghe himself is going to downplay them even as he asks for help.

The Luo Binghe of Proud Immortal Demon Way had never asked for help from Qian Cao, now that Shen Yuan thinks about it.

…After he’s taken care of Luo Binghe, he’s going to figure out which disciple would’ve treated Luo Binghe in the original, and he’s going to put chili powder in all his tea, ah!!

---

Luo Binghe keeps coming back. Small injuries, larger ones, keening whines about how Shixiong, I’m scared of qi deviations, please help me cultivate safely!!

Shen Yuan is torn between feeling relieved that Luo Binghe has found a Shixiong (Shixiong!!) that he feels he can trust, and feeling absolutely terrified of Luo Binghe’s general health. The original Luo Binghe of PIDW had never felt this worried, he was never in so much pain over simple scrapes! Had Shen Yuan’s doting somehow turned the protagonist’s bones to glass??

Regardless, Luo Binghe spends more and more time on Qian Cao. He even shows up to some of the lessons Shen Yuan teaches, which - protagonist, you don’t need to know healing!! Your blood will do it for you, eventually! When that fails, a large-bosomed woman will take care of you!!

“I can’t help but feel bad for how often I bother Shixiong,” Luo Binghe whines when Shen Yuan tries to shoo him out of the Qian Cao beginner lessons. “Isn’t it better for me to learn how to take care of myself?”

It’s better for this Shixiong to take care of you, ah! Shen Yuan very much does not say, but he does begrudgingly let Luo Binghe stay.

Except the lessons go too late, and it’s dangerous for Luo Binghe to be wandering between the peaks after dark, so he ends up having to bunk with Shen Yuan for the night, and Shen Yuan offers him some of his old Qian Cao disciple robes to sleep in, and Luo Binghe never takes them off -

Shen Yuan stares at Luo Binghe, happily calling him ‘Shixiong’ and dressed in Qian Cao robes and without even the smallest of bruises or scrapes on his person, and -

Well, this is probably a good a way as any to rescue Luo Binghe, ah!

[sapphicjackal]

Binghe being a cuckoo bird is so funny to me. He's stealth u-hauling in the most blatant way possible. Move him the fuck in right now, this is his emotional support Shixiong.

[sapphyrwind]

[outboardd]

on a random day in metropolis, superman gets hit with an amnesia spell. at first he thinks it's a dud—nothing happens, and he can't exactly ask the sorcerer what was supposed to happen, so he wraps up the fight and flies home, changing out of the suit and returning to life as clark kent.

clark kent wakes the next morning with no recollection of the event. unbeknownst to him, he forgets every aspect of his life that's remotely related to his being an alien. forgets getting his powers, forgets learning how to use them/control himself, forgets the spaceship hidden on his parents farm, forgets saving people all across metropolis and the world, etc. etc.

but then he starts experiencing these...oddities. like that morning, when he reached for his coffee while reading an absolutely horrific article about luthor that was pure propaganda—and he crushed his mug in his hand. at first he thought maybe the mug had been cracked and he didn't know. but the steaming coffee hadn't burned his hand, and the jagged ceramic edges hadn't cut him, either. or on his way to work, when he realized he was running late, and he cleared the distance between his apartment and the daily planet in half the time it normally took him. or the way his vision had gone telescopic when he squinted his eyes to see something far away. or when he accidentally vaporized the bag of popcorn in his microwave before he even closed the door.

all of this happens, and clark thinks, honest to god, that the only explanation is that he and superman switched powers.

which is to say that he somehow has superman's powers and now superman is somewhere out there with none. which must be why he hasn't been spotted for over a week, now.

because clark accidentally stole his powers.

clark panics. but doing so only results in a splintered coffee table and a scorch mark on his bathroom tile. he folds in on himself on the floor in the middle of his kitchen, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself not to touch anything.

he gets a call from his ma. clark has no idea how she has such impeccable timing. with a shaking hand, he applies the barest pressure to his phone and answers the call. ma asks if he's okay, says she hasn't heard from him in a while. she wants him to drop by the farm soon. clark can't tell her about the power he's somehow gained, but he lets her reassure him and promises to make the trip to her soon.

comforted by ma's words, clark goes to the closest place he knows with someone he can (hopefully) trust: gotham.

batman and superman have been featured in the paper multiple times together, mostly concerning their joint work in organized crime busts. clark has reason to believe they're at the very least some kind of coworker, maybe even friends. batman will be able to help clark track down the real superman and return his powers. batman will be able to help clark control his infernal abilities and eventually get back to normal.

he manages to get into gotham without any more incidents, but getting batman's attention is a different story. he could flick on the batsignal...but it's reportedly on the GCPD roof and clark really doesn't feel like trespassing on that specific property. he eventually succeeds by accident, when he gets cornered in an alley at knifepoint with the attacker demanding his wallet.

batman swoops down, silent as a shadow. he dispatches the attacker and unholsters his grappling gun to leave, but clark shoots forward with too much speed and crashes into him. they land in a heap that quickly turns into clark pressed firmly into the ground with a batarang to his neck and his wrists held in a firm grip by batman's other hand.

"wait! please, i didn't mean to do that. something's wrong with me," he says emphatically, cursing the wetness in his eyes. even now in the small alley, the sheer amount of noise clark can hear is overwhelming. he knows how crazy he must look—entirely disheveled, hair unkempt, eyes wide and half-crazed with desperation. he just needs to say something that will make batman believe him. "it has to do with superman."

that gives batman pause. clark leaps at the opportunity.

"this is going to sound crazy, but i think—i think that magic guy he fought a couple weeks ago took away his powers and gave them to me."

batman stares at him blankly. "what."

"i don't know," clark stresses. "here, look—" he pulls one of his hands out of batman's grip easily, wrapping it around the batarang tightly—how does he know the name for this thing?—and when he opens his palm, the metal has crumpled and his skin is unmarred. "see? i woke up with these stupid powers and now i can hear everything and see everything and it sucks—"

batman pulls away from him and stands, his cape enveloping him whole. clark scrambles upright, wringing his hands anxiously.

"...i believe you," batman says eventually. he glances down at the crumpled batarang with a curl in his lip.

clark's shoulders rise to his ears, face tinting pink. "sorry."

batman takes him to a safehouse. he sets clark up with food and clothes and even brings over a red sun lamp that actually helps, to both of their surprise. both of them hunker down and try to track superman's movements. they spend days together in the safehouse searching for clues and trying to hone clark's newfound powers.

clark tries his hardest not to develop a crush. but batman is so gentle and accommodating with his powers, and he brings clark thai food after learning it's his favourite, and he cracks wry jokes out of nowhere that have clark barking out a surprised laugh. needless to say, clark never stood a chance.

he keeps it to himself. there's absolutely no way batman, of all people, would reciprocate his feelings. and he'll probably never see him again when this is all over.

they find the sorcerer. well, batman does. clark watches from a monitor connected to the cowl's camera as batman confronts the magic user and demands that he reverse the spell. after some less-than-gentle persuasion, the sorcerer agrees and clark gets swallowed by a burst of light.

he wakes on the floor with batman hovering over him, concern etched into the line of his mouth.

"did it work?" batman asks, helping clark to sit.

clark looks around the room. he hears someone laugh a city away. he also remembers tearing around the living room as a kid and destroying a side table after tripping over his shoe and faceplanting right into the wood. he focuses his vision and sees the moon through six floor of the apartment building. he remembers pulling batman out of a house fire last month and sticking by him until he was sure everything was fine. he listens to batman's steady heartbeat. he remembers his own spiking when batman smiled at him for the first time after a gruelling mission.

clark can only shake his head in disbelief. he doesn't see a way out of this without compromising his identity. and he only has himself to blame. how embarrassingly predictable of him to run straight to batman and fall for him again.

batman sighs harshly next to him, misunderstanding. "the sorcerer is still in custody. i'll go question him again."

"no," clark reaches for him, grasps his wrist. "it worked. he reversed the spell. just not the way we thought."

batman peers at him carefully, his squinted eyes darting between clark's. after a long moment, his shoulders drop and his jaw firms.

"...you're superman, aren't you."

clark's shoulders hunch. "i'm so sorry, i had no idea—"

he's cut off by batman's laugh.

batman's laugh.

clark watches in disbelief as batman's mouth stretches in a wide smile and he doubles over, pressing his forehead to clark's shoulder and absolutely cackling against him.

"no, stop," clark says, pushing at him weakly with his own budding smile. "this is not funny. do you have any idea how stressed i was?"

that only makes batman laugh harder. he grips at clark's shoulders and hangs his head, his smile never dimming.

it's contagious. through his own laughter, clark says, "i can't believe myself."

and batman just shakes his head and says, "i can," and kisses him.

[supertaliart]

Happy May the Fourth! I added a second page to this comic from last year!

[bet-on-me-13]

Undead Galaxy

So! Within the Ghost Zone, there exists a Lair unlike any other.

To a Ghost, a Lair is supposed to be an integral part of their Existence. When a Ghost Builds their Lair, they take a part of the Ghost Zone Itself and mold it into a Realm of their own, transforming it into a reflection of their Core.

As such, a Lair usually matches the personality, and more importantly the Obsessions, of the Ghost it was created by. It is meant to be the Eternal Home of the one who built it, a place to spend the rest of their eternal unlife, and as such it needs to be able to fulfill the Ghosts Obsessions.

Think of Skulkers Lair, an Island Jungle filled to the brim with Monsters and Beasts of all sorts, ready and waiting to be hunted down and skinned. The perfect home for a ghost with an Obsession based on Hunting.

Some take this a step farther, like the Ancients (which is just another name used for Gods in the Zone), who transform their Lairs into Entirely Seperate Afterlives for others to inhabit. Hades, Osiris, the Demon Lords of the various Hells, they all took this approach.

But there is a problem. For beings like God's, who are sustained by Worship, what would happen if their world were to die? If the planet their people resided on were to be hit by an asteroid, or blown up by an Alien warlord?

A God without its worship would Fade, and as such the Afterlife they used to maintain would fall apart as well. The Millions of Souls who trusted that God to protect them in death would be left to the mercy of the Void between Afterlives. Somebody decided that they didn't like that, and stepped in.

Within the Ghost Zone exists a Galaxy.

A Galaxy where all the souls and Afterlives of worlds that have died continue to exist. Worlds that were destroyed by a cataclysmic War that resulted in both sides dying, by unstable Mining Practices destabilize the Core, by a Psychic Virus that wiped out all life on Planet leaving a baren husk.

When their populations died, and the Gods who maintained their afterlives would have faded, they were saved by another and brought into his Lair.

The Ghost King, Phantom.

He was a spirit with two simple Obsessions. The Protection of others, and the Majesty of Space.

But there was no Space in the Ghost Zone, only the Infinite void. So he made his own. He constructed a Lair of incredible size, decorating it with Stars and Planets and Supernova and Nebula. He recreated the Majesty of the Space he adored, and the invited the wandering souls of dead worlds to enjoy it with him.

He gave them planets of their own within the Unliving Galaxy. All the souls of crumpled afterlives wandering the Ghost Zone were allowed to recreate it again, to find eachother and build their communities again.

With this he could fulfill both of his Obsessions at the same time, and he would he doing his duty as their king by helping his subjects.

He saw it as an absolute win.

...

They had been trapped in this strange dimension for days now.

Nobody had any idea how they ended up there. Clark had just fallen asleep, Diana was training, Hal was on patrol. Even J'onn himself was on Moniter Duty, when the next thing he knew they were all waking up on a floating purple rock in a Lazarus green void.

Thankfully Constantine that had been dragged alongside him when J'onn when he was taken, and managed to explain that they were in some kind of void in-between the afterlives.

"The Ghost Zone" "The Unending End" "The Collective Dead", it went by many names apparently. The most famous name for it was "The Infinite Realms", named for the way the infinite souls residing there would build their own personal Realms, or Lairs, to spend eternity in.

Not even he knew how they had ended up there. Constantine was confident that they hadn't died recently (the fact they needed to use "recently" was a sad thought), so it wasn't the old fashioned way at the very least.

Still, they needed to get moving. This place was dangerous and they didn't want to stay in one place for too long.

After days of traveling across the strange void (had they even eaten since they arrived there?) Constantine finally caught a hint of something. There was a draw on them, pulling them towards a specific direction. They had been unconsciously following it for days now, and now that they knew what they were doing they soldiered on even faster. If there were answers wherever they were being drawn, they would find them.

Once it came into view, it was obvious what had been calling to them this entire time. It was massive.

Spanning across the endless horizon, they could see something that looked like a Galaxy spanning in front of them. From their position on a floating island, they could see it in all its glory. Contrasting the green they had become accustomed to, the Galaxy swirled in a variety of Bright Blues and Deep Purples, with multicolored stars shining so brightly they stood out even as far as they were from it.

It took all their breaths away, and J'onn would admit to having stood there staring for longer than he should have. It was just so starkly different than anything he had seen thus far in this dimension of greens and purples.

"Beautiful isn't it?"

In an Instant their weapons were drawn and fighting stances set, facing the person who had appeared in their midst.

He was a young man, seemingly in his early 20's, with snow white hair and Lazarus green eyes. Above his head sat a crown glowing the same color as the galaxy spanning in front of them. They all knew instantly that this man was connected to it on a deep level.

"Who are you" Asked Diana. Her thoughts were filled with theat assessments and carefulness. She thought he was strong.

"Oh, my name is Phantom." He replied, "Sorry for startling you, this is one of my favorite spots to stargaze and I forgot that normal people usually can't see me when I zone out like that."

"What is that?" Clark asked, pointing to the Galactic Structure on the horizon. He was curious. The man before they didn't act hostile, so he had decided to match his energy.

"Oh, that's my Galaxy. Like it?" He asked excitedly, "Took me ages to get it looking just right, but I'm so proud of the results."

"Do you know why we are here?" Asked Hal, his mind was swimming with worry over his Sector of space. He had been taken while patrolling it. He wanted to get back quickly.

"I didn't bring you here, if that's what you're asking." He replied evenly, "But I know who did. They wanted to see you again, but with their Realms crumbled and their people scattered, they never had the chance. Now they do, and they wanted to say hello again. Sorry about the long journey, they messed up the Summoning process and you ended up a bit farther than intended."

"Who summoned us?" Asked Constantine warily. His thoughts were full of the various demons and gods he knew inhabited these Realms. He was worried.

"Well, You, accidently got dragged along through proximity, sorry." He apologized to the magician, "But as for the rest of you? Well, you'll just have to wait and see for yourselves. Trust me, it'll be a welcome surprise."

"Can you tell us where can we find the ones who summoned us?" Asked J'onn finally. He was curious, and wary, of who had decided to pull them into this dimension. But if the man before them was being truthful, then he wanted to meet them.

"Just keep following that pulling sensation that brought you here, you'll find them." He said, "I'll stay here for a while longer though. Just want to stargaze a bit more."

They left him on the island and kept going.

As the approached the Galaxy, it dawned on them how truly massive the realm in front of them was. Hal confirmed that it wasn't as big as a real one, but even he was in awe at its size.

As they drew closer is quickly became apparent that they were being drawn in different directions. After a quick discussion they decided it was best to split up.

J'onn approached the Planet he was being drawn to, and realized very quickly that it very closely resembled his old homeworld, Mars. The Red Sands, the Rocky Terrain, the two Moons that could be seen orbiting the planet, all of it seemed tailor made to resurface memories of his destroyed home.

It took all of a second for all of it to come together in his head.

The allusions Phantom had made to his summoners missing him. The resemblance to his old Homeworld. The fact he was currently in a version of the Afterlife.

As he made the connection in his head, he felt another two connections form. Ones he had not felt in the the Centuries since he had lost them.

"Hello, J'onn."

"...M'yri'ah..." His wife.

"Hi dad."

"...K'hym..." His Daughter.

It took nearly a full minute before his mind calmed enough to send them a response. It was a Whirlwind of wild thoughts, fear of this being a trick, and above all hope that it was real.

Eventually, he finally managed a response.

"I missed you."

[maxinevee]

Bloom 🌸

[proneterror204]

Undergrowth turned Sam into a halfa while he had her. Sam didn't know till the day after Danny saved her, When the GIW had burst in and detained her for experimentation and dissection. Danny had to save her AGAIN, but at the cost of his identity. Both of their parents were enraged.

They had originally made plans for Danny to run, but not Sam. They stuck to the original plan. Gotham was the only place they could go with enough ectoplasm to support a halfa.

They ended up finding a nice apartment on the outskirts of crime alley. It was a nice place but it only had one bed. Sam was fine with that. Danny was her best friend, her hero, and maybe she had danced around her feelings for him long enough.

Danny was working. He was the Ghost King, or Ghost King in training. He was learning and the Observants were nice enought to use some of Pariah's treasury to pay Danny for his work, but only minimum wage until he could handle more.

Sam was going through their paperwork Tucker had forged for them. He was strangely good at forgeries. She was now Samhain Nightingale with a Danny Nightingale. Oh Ancients! He made them siblings! Or so she thought, until she pulled out a marriage certificate...

"TUCKER!!!"

[knightshade86]

The Mansons were enraged, but not at their daughter. When Sam returned home with Danny in toe, Pamela and Jeremy feigned being furious with them while loading them up with as many resources as they could provide. They knew the GIW would be back, and they knew that to keep ahead of them and protect their daughter, the GIW would have to believe that they were on their side. After all, it's not the first time their family had to use this trick on a genocidal government .

Back during World War II, Ida, who was 15 at the time, fancied a 17 year old Jewish boy. When she witnessed him being dragged away by SS officers, she immediately took action. Donning a makeshift mask and equipped with a pipe wrench, she attacked the officers and quickly absconded with the young man through alleys and rooftops until they reached her home on the prominent side of town.

She was only able to keep him hidden for three days before her parents found him and realized what she had done. They immediately went into an angry tirade, lashing out at both of them, screaming about reputation and the Gestapo, their loud arguments being heard by several neighbors.

Eventually, they were both forcefully kicked out of the house, but not before envelopes full of cash and legal documents were shoved down their shirts, and whispers of well wishes were brought to their ears.

As they ran off into the night with the door slamming shut behind them, the final words her mother spoke to her kept repeating in her head, and she realized that her parents loved her far more than she knew, amd their anger that night was but an act.

In the coming weeks, Ida and the Manson boy made their way to France and joined the resistance. Meanwhile, her parents solidified their positions in the local government, which allowed them to secretly funnel resources towards groups trying to hide from or escape the Gestapo.

After the wars end, Ida and Manson find their way to the States and send a postcard to her parents, hoping to receive a reply back. Instead, a few months later, they are met with her parents at their door in a tearful reunion as the family comes back together once again.