#yes it’s clouds and mountains

[marika-misc]

Is this a Merlin fanart in this day and age ? Who knows ?

(I know. And yes it is)

[1introvertedsage]

[featuresofinterest]

went to mt. rainier with @thedoubteriswise today :)

[acoraxia]

Whats better:

Wukong’s gold vision vs Erlang’s third eye?

And ouch imagine getting out of a mountain after centuries and now pro, you can reach higher up fruit and can for once stare down intimidatingly at ppl but con, you faceplant every five minutes

I imagine he’d use his cloud way more often for that

note that this is my opinion and i am using Erlang Shen's characterization and powers from Journey to the West as I cannot remember much of his powers during Investiture of the Gods,

but I do believe SWK has the better golden vision

The third eye of truth that Erlang has is to seek out demons and stuff but Wukong has a golden vision he gained during the boiler situation—he can see through spells, glamours, tricks, and then adding in his intelligence he could utilize it better than Erlang could imo

This is how Sun Wukong can beat Erlang's ass in season 4-

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

This is why Mt. Saint Helens is so notable in volcanology, it's explosion was many firsts! Satellites were able to capture it's plume cloud, one of the first, and we could finally understand just how big these explosions really are. Here's a(n indie) documentary that goes more in depth about the satellite photos

Not only that, but it also allowed scientists to study up close and personal on how volcanoes aren't as terrible as we thought. Are they horrible? Yes, but they give land new life, and we as humans are only just starting to understand how the scythe of death gives us nutrients to grow. There has to always be a new cycle, always a change or else the ecosystem will stagnate

Take post eruption Mt. Saint Helens for example, the ash and dead fauna and flora provided fresh nutrients for the next plant generations, and now the animals too are benefitting from it. There was also a reforestation project to replace the trees that were felled, the community got together and celebrated when plant life retook the dead kingdom. Animals being seen made people jump with joy and smile, we are just a part of the world as the world is a part of us and we both celebrate and mourn natural disasters and victories

I grew up watching the NatGeo VHS (my family likes older technology, many happy memories) that covered Mt. Saint Helens and I only saw it immediately post or a couple decades afterwards. Some years ago I flew in to Seattle and I saw how the land looks now and I'm pretty sure I concerned my row partners because of how I jolted in my seat once I realized just what I was looking at. I didn't think I'd be close enough to see, but we were and I adore how well everyone and thing has bounced back. Here's some photos I took, and the one where it's lined up was actually my wallpaper for over a year lmao

Just look!!! It so long ago that lake was filled with logs, those hills decorated with monolithic toothpicks, the land inhospitable, but look at it now! The spot where the pyroclastic flow is still visible, thats just how much power nature has! Oh, I wish I could go and properly take photos of Mt. Saint Helens and the surrounding area, that explosion defined my love for geology

The End, by Alister Lockhart.

[soupis4ever]

updated oc "family tree" because the last one sucked majorly and did not specify what the hell any of those creatures were. also now we have god lore. and a very long tag rant apparently

[amplexadversary]

I have foolishly booted up the climbing simulator again and discovered that it is not fucking running well for me

Since it is no longer just Warframe having issues I guess I'll have to schedule a re-gooing and fan cleaning of my computer on monday

-_-

fuck, I hope that solves the problem, because then it's not the internet up here.

I guess that game is good for something in the end if this lets me play Warframe again (I say, genuinely liking ... I'll say *parts of* it. If the industry weren't in such a fucking state... *grumblemutter*)

[tovaicas]

one of the things that more consistently annoys me abt map design in this game is how disconnected so many zones feel from the world itself

[auroralwriting]

٠ ࣪⭑ state of grace

‎pairing: clark kent x reader (6.0K words)

summary: when another metahuman decides to relocate to metropolis, how is it that clark always gets swept up in situations like these? aka, how does clark kent end up falling head over heels for the invisible woman?

warnings & content: metahuman!reader, invisible woman!reader but not sue storm reader just has her powers oops, clark is actually whipped, guy is a d1 hater, significant use of swear words mostly from guy, small mentions of the cw flash show, its canon in my heart, eventual mutual pining, third person but you see both reader and clark's thoughts, some mentions of superman (2025) plot, yes i'm aware national city isn't where flash is from i just chose my favorite city

There was one thing Clark hated more than anything. Yes, more than bad pancakes and mean-spirited people. It was a creature that he couldn't contain.

Defeat is a harsh word. That implies killing—and Clark isn't about brutally killing anyone or anything. Emphasis on the thing.. because what was this thing?

It was giant, standing at the height of the buildings around them. It was sort of like that one creature Lex Luthor set free while he infiltrated the Fortress of Solitude. However, this thing was much, much different. It had zero blind spots that Clark, nor the Justice Gang, could locate. It had keen senses, almost like foresight, and was impeccably strong.

Which lead them all to now.

Hawkgirl was circling what she deemed The Abomination, trying to distract it while Mister Terrific tried to do some digging on what this could possibly be. Guy was just trying to beat the shit out of it, which was failing horrendously, but not that he would admit it. Metamorpho was trying all sorts of different things, fire, water, anything he could conjure to stop it. It also failed. Clark was currently trying to evacuate.

Why did people love to stand around when there was a giant monster crushing buildings and roaring? The world may never know.

"I don't think we're stopping it!" Guy yelled, his green wrecking ball doing absolutely no damage.

"Really?" Hawkgirl sarcastically called back. Clark could practically feel the roll of her eyes from however many hundred feet apart they were.

Once he moved one last person, Clark was back in the sky. "We've gotta distract it. Everyone, take a different side!"

They scattered—Hawkgirl veering left with a sharp beat of her wings, Metamorpho sliding into a pillar of smoke and reforming on the right, and Guy zipping overhead, grumbling something about doing all the heavy lifting around here.

The Abomination didn’t flinch.

Its head swiveled slowly, deliberately. Not like a mindless beast, not even like a predator. Like something aware. Something watching.

Clark could hear it now, the sound it made—not just the booming roars, but the low, guttural thrumming beneath it, like the growl of a world about to crack open.

"We’ve got nothing on this thing,"Mister Terrific said in his comms, breath quick. "Nothing in the archives. Nothing in the Watchtower database. Not even in Kryptonian logs, and you guys usually write everything down."

"That’s comforting," Clark muttered, eyes narrowing. He rocketed upward, cutting through the clouds, then shot back down like a missile, both fists forward, crashing into the creature’s chest with a thunderous crack.

It didn’t move. No stumble. No flinch. Just a slow pivot of its head toward him. Clark froze.

Its eyes—if they were eyes—were pure white, blank and unblinking. And in that second, he felt it. Not pain, not fear. Something colder. Something that reached past muscle and bone and found whatever existed beneath.

"Superman!" Hawkgirl’s voice snapped him out of it. She dove at the creature, swinging her mace with a shriek of battle, striking it across the jaw.

That, at least, made it move. Its head turned with the blow, just slightly, but the rest of its body stayed rooted like a mountain. "Got a reaction," she called, swooping back. "Barely."

"Keep it coming," Clark said, voice firm. He turned toward Metamorpho. "Try acid next. Corrosive. Anything."

"On it," Metamorpho replied, shifting into a sickly green gas and funneling toward the creature’s arm. It swatted the cloud away like an annoying fly and looked at him. 

That was when it happened.

The ground beneath them cracked, deep and wide. And from it, a low hum began to rise, vibrating through the air. Streetlights shattered. Windows exploded in a sharp cascade.

Clark clenched his jaw, fighting the pressure pushing into his skull. Guy grunted over the comms, "Okay, did anyone else get a brain earthquake, or was that just me?"

"Everyone felt it," Mister Terrific said grimly. "This thing’s broadcasting telepathically on a level I didn’t even think was possible."

Clark hovered in place, breathing heavy. "We need to figure out what it wants. Why it’s here."

And then, before anyone could respond, the creature’s head turned again, but this time, it seemed to freeze. It turned its head again, then again. After a moment, it was looking around like it had been blindsighted.

"What's it doing?" Clark turned to ask Mister Terrific.

"I don't know," he slowly answered, just as confused as the rest of them.

"Is it.. blind?" Hawkgirl asked, circling cautiously.

"I didn’t do that," Metamorpho muttered.

"Neither did I," Mister Terrific chimed in. "Something’s messing with its vision. Or whatever that thing uses for vision."

Clark squinted. There—near the edge of a crushed construction site—he caught the faintest glimmer. A shimmer of distortion, light bending around nothing.

And then a voice crackled on the comms. "Maybe stop standing around and hit it while it’s blind?"

Guy groaned. "Oh, fuck off. Not you!"

"You know her?" Clark asked, already diving back into the fray.

"Unfortunately."

The voice chimed in again, dry as ever. "Glad to see your grudge is still going strong, Gardner."

"She’s from National City," Guy burgudgenly explained. "Metahuman. Ran into her last month while I was tracking a dimensional rip. She got in the way."

"I fixed your mess."

"You freelanced! I had it under control!"

"Oh, yeah? What part of screaming and flailing was your strategy, exactly? My city, my problem!"

"Can we do this later?" Hawkgirl snapped. "We have a kaiju that can smell our intentions and slap us into next Tuesday."

The mystery woman didn’t respond. Instead, she acted.

Another ripple shimmered across the battlefield, barely visible. A wave of force shifted under Clark’s feet midair. The Abomination’s foot sank into the street unexpectedly—caught in a trench that hadn’t been there a second ago.

A sudden slam of a dome of force, unseen but solid, locked around the creature’s upper body. Its arms flailed uselessly against the shield.

"Who is she?" Metamorpho asked.

"I don’t know," Clark said quietly. "But she’s buying us time."

A moment passed. Then you shimmered into view, just barely. Still half-cloaked, eyes locked on the beast as you held the field steady with both hands. "I’m not going to hold this long," you said through clenched teeth.

Clark finally saw you clearly. Not one of his team. Not someone from the Watchtower. But she was here, and she was saving their asses.

"Then let’s make it count," he said.

It took an impressive six minutes and thirteen seconds to take down The Abomination. Once it was down, you walked over to the group who landed together like a clique. "Sorry," you said, slowly turning visible before their very eyes. "One of ours."

"Of course it is," Guy scoffed.

You pointed at him, giving him a look of confusion. "Says the one who couldn't stop it until I got here."

"What the fuck are you doing here anyways?" Guy said. "This is Metropolis."

"I'm very much aware of that," you replied, dusting off your hands. "I'm moving here." You ignored Guy's very passionate and loud groan. "National City has no room for me to grow in my career, so I thought I'd give Metropolis a try."

Guy scoffed, "Does Flash know you're abandoning ship?"

"Yes, he does," you confirmed. "And he's very happy for me. Plus, with all the metahumans running around National City after the particle accelerator exploded, I think it'll be just fine without me."

"Shit," Hawkgirl smiled, "I've seen you on TV. You're Invisible Woman; you can make forcefields and turn invisible."

"And she can generate, if I’m reading the residual energy signatures right, concussive bursts with enough kinetic output to level small structures." You tilted your head at Mister Terrific. "Hi, Mister Terrific," he added after seeing the look on your face.

Guy frowned, "She's not that cool, guys."

"The grown ups are talking," you shot back, making Guy's mouth fall open as he sputtered out that's mean! "And I know all of you, which is really cool. Metamorpho, Hawkgirl, Guy, Terrific, and.. Superman. Hi."

Clark swallowed.

You smiled—just slightly—but didn’t hold his gaze long. Instead, you looked back at the now-smoldering crater where The Abomination had been. "His name used to be Frank Albright. Frank here was affected by the accelerator while transporting a truck full of reptiles to National City Zoo. You.. can guess what happened to him after. I've handled him before, but I think you guys accidentally made him stronger somehow. It was like holding down a building with my hands. He's.. also never this.. big."

Clark did not hear a single word you said. He was a little busy watching the way your hair blew in the wind and the way your mouth moved as you spoke.

"You kind of did," Metamorpho said, still catching his breath. "That shield trick? That was nuts."

"She has a name, right?" Hawkgirl asked, glancing between Clark and Guy.

"Yeah," you said, brushing a speck of dust off your jacket. "But Invisible Woman’s fine if we’re staying professional."

"We’re not," Guy mumbled.

"I vote professional," Mister Terrific added quickly.

Clark stepped forward, almost a little awkward. He didn't want to butt in. "You said you’re moving to Metropolis?"

You nodded. "New job offer. Labs in the north end. It’s more theoretical than hands-on, but.. I did not get it, so.."

"And you just happened to show up in the middle of a monster fight?" he asked, not accusing, just.. wondering.

You tilted your head. "I was already here. Interview finished twenty minutes before the big guy was on every Metropolis news channel. Thought I’d walk off the nerves, grab a coffee. Then the big guy showed up and ruined my latte."

Guy let out an exaggerated groan. "She always does this. Shows up, takes over, insults me, and somehow still looks like the reasonable one."

Hawkgirl smirked. "You make it easy."

Mister Terrific pulled up his T-Spheres, scanning the area. "Well, regardless of how she got here, the data doesn’t lie. That blindfield she put around its head? Brilliant. You disrupted its sensory matrix. The force cage? Custom density modulation. Your control over energy structuring is unlike anything I’ve seen. Especially from someone unaffiliated with a league."

You blinked. "I mean, thanks, but I’ve literally emailed you twice about the research at STAR labs."

"Wait. You’re her? The gravity-lens force shell theory? That was your email?!"

"Guilty."

Guy threw up his hands. "Oh great, now he’s starstruck too."

Clark smiled a little at that. He really didn't know you, but gee, did he really want to. Everyone was making you sound fantastic. "Sounds like we’ve been overdue for an introduction."

You held out your hand, giving him your name. "I'm sort of a scientist. I just learned a lot from my friends at STAR labs. I'm really a journalist—er.. trying to be one. I'm a blogger, really."

"Clark," he smiled. "Clark Kent."

The way your jaw dropped was near comical. "Clark.. Kent. Daily Planet journalist Clark Kent? The one with all the Superman—oh my god, that's how you get all the interviews!"

Clark laughed. Not a heroic, public-facing laugh, but a real, honest one, soft and almost shy. "Sorry. I don’t usually lead with that."

"You mean to tell me the man I’ve been quoting in articles is also the man who just suplexed a building-sized monster?!"

Guy muttered, "I tried to tell her that last time, too. She didn’t believe me."

"I thought you were being sarcastic! You said, Clark Kent is Superman, like you were making a joke about his glasses! Also, why on Earth would you actually tell me who Superman is, you idiot!"

Guy threw up his hands. "Because I was trying to warn you! You were going off about how he writes with bias and how it’s suspicious he gets all the Superman scoops—like I was just gonna let you spiral into a conspiracy blog!"

"I stand by that observation," you snapped, pointing accusingly at Clark. "Because it’s true! You were basically interviewing yourself! That’s not journalism, that’s—that's a loophole!"

Clark held up his hands. "In-In my defense, I do ask myself the hard questions." It was hard to ignore how gorgeous you were. Your words had Clark's cheeks turned pink in an instant.

"Oh my god," you muttered, dragging a hand down your face.

Guy grinned like he had just won the lottery. "So, are you gonna apologize for calling me a dumbass when I told you the truth?"

You shot him a glare. "Absolutely not."

Throwing his hands in the air, Guy turned away, literally kicking a rock angrily as he grumbled to himself. Metamorpho just carefully followed behind, almost like a babysitter of sorts. Imagine that, Green Lantern has a babysitter.

"So, you said you didn't get the job?" Hawkgirl curiously continued.

"Yeah, I wasn't what they were looking for," you awkwardly responded. "I'm gonna try some other places, see what I can get. Actually, this is my first day in Metropolis. You guys know any good hotels or anything?"

And that was exactly how Clark Kent found himself with a temporary roommate.

Sure, offering you a place to stay felt like the right thing to do. You were new in town, clearly resourceful, a hero, and let’s be honest—after wrangling a twenty-foot mutant lizard formerly known as Frank, you’d earned a soft bed and some clean towels.

But now, with you sitting cross-legged on his couch, laptop open, typing furiously about metahuman media bias in urban reporting while wearing an oversized Daily Planet t-shirt he swore he didn’t give you on purpose—

Now he was rethinking things.

Because you were brilliant. And sharp. And you called Guy out without hesitation, which was... actually kind of hot. And for some reason, the way you chewed on your bottom lip while editing made it very difficult for him to concentrate on the news broadcast quietly playing in the background.

"I can try and get you an interview at The Daily Planet," Clark blurted out suddenly.

You looked up from your laptop, blinking like you weren’t sure you’d heard him right. "..What?"

Clark cleared his throat, suddenly very aware of how loud the tea kettle wasn’t. "I mean—if you’re still looking for jobs. You said earlier you didn’t get the lab one, and I just thought—since you’re already writing, and blogging, and clearly have a voice—and you’ve already been published online, right? I could talk to Perry. I mean, you probably wouldn't start out as a journalist, maybe something else, but—"

"Clark."

He stopped mid-ramble.

"Thank you," you said softly, a small smile on your face. "You really think Perry would give me a shot?"

"I really think he’d be an idiot not to."

You stared at him a beat longer, then let out a breath, the kind you only exhale when something finally clicks. "Well," you said, stretching a little. "Guess I should update my resume."

Clark smiled at your words. After a moment, he asked, "How did you get them?" You looked up, head tilted at him. "Your powers, I mean. You said they were from the STAR labs particle accelerator explosion, but.."

"That’s a big question," you said.

Clark tilted his head, hands relaxed on his knees. "You don’t have to tell me."

"No, it’s okay." You set your laptop aside, drawing your knees up a little on the couch. "Just.. not something I talk about a lot. Most people assume I got lucky. That I was some random bystander who just happened to walk through a cloud of science and come out gifted."

He didn’t say anything—just waited, quiet and open.

"I was in the sub-levels," you continued. "At STAR Labs. I wasn’t supposed to be there. I was following up on a tip, some whistleblower said the lab was hiding preliminary safety data. I was freelancing then, trying to get noticed, and I thought.. if I exposed them, I’d finally get taken seriously."

Clark’s brows furrowed slightly. "And then the explosion happened?"

You nodded once, eyes distant. "I was right next to the core when it ruptured. Radiation, energy discharge, everything. I should’ve died." You paused, then gave a half-laugh. "I actually did for like.. two minutes. Clinically. But then my heart jump-started itself. Literally. That was the first time a forcefield triggered—my own body keeping everything out."

Clark’s eyes widened. "That’s.."

"Yeah. Terrifying. Weird. Physically disorienting. You know. Super normal." You smiled a little, then shrugged. "After that, it took months to get control. For a while, my hair and my hands kept phasing invisible and wouldn’t come back. The STAR Labs team that remained helped stabilize me, ran diagnostics, taught me how to regulate it, but I never really fit in with them. They became friends, good friends, but really.. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Clark’s face was unreadable, but his eyes—those damn, kind eyes—held steady. "They were lucky to have you."

You gave him a look. "You don’t even know me."

"I know enough," he said gently. "You risked your life today to stop something no one else could. You didn’t hesitate. And you’re sitting here now, not demanding praise, but quietly updating your resume and thinking about a new job."

Your throat felt a little tight. "I didn’t want powers," you admitted. "I just wanted to write. Tell the truth. Make people listen. Ironically, my powers make me literally invisible."

Clark smiled softly. "Then maybe now you can do both."

You stared at him a moment longer, then looked away with a breathy laugh. "Are you always this nice?"

He looked down, sheepish. "I try."

You stood up slowly, fingers brushing your laptop as you picked it up. "I’m gonna go shower now, before you say something else that makes me question my emotional stability."

Clark grinned. "Third door on the right."

As you walked down the hall, you called back, "And don’t go reading my resume while I’m gone, Kent!"

He chuckled, sinking back into the couch. But the truth was, he didn’t need to read your resume. He already knew you were something extraordinary.

Which was exactly how you got your job as a journalist for The Daily Planet. Clark wasn't entirely sure how you got the job. Maybe it was how you called Perry Perry and not Chief from your first introduction.

Or maybe it was how you walked into the bullpen like you already belonged there, laptop under one arm, confidence under the other, and zero fear in your eyes even as every other person looked you up and down, analyzing your every move.

Maybe it was the way you handed in a trial article the same day you were hired, titled The Myth of Superhero Objectivity: Are We Getting the Full Truth? and still somehow walked away employed.

Or maybe, Clark thought, it was the moment Perry read the piece, raised one eyebrow, and muttered, "Well, hell. Someone finally decided to grow a spine around here."

Clark remembered watching the whole thing unfold from his desk, completely bewildered by how quickly you had settled into the newsroom like you were born for it. One second you were apologizing for stealing his mug—again—and the next you were in a heated debate with Steve Lombard about metahuman ethics and whether or not vigilante reporting should fall under sports or crime.

You won. Loudly.

And now? Now you had your own desk across from his. A stack of post-it notes, coffee rings already staining the edge, and a cracked screen on your tablet because apparently forcefields don’t protect against clumsiness.

"Hey, Kent." You peeked over your monitor, holding up a file. "Does Perry like exposés with footnotes or without?"

Clark glanced up from his own article, lips twitching. "With. But only if you’re prepared to explain every single one."

"I live to explain footnotes."

"You live to argue."

You grinned. "Same thing."

And Clark just smiled.

Because even if he couldn’t quite explain it—how quickly you’d become part of this life, how easily you’d carved out space in both his home and his work—he didn’t question it.

Neither did you.

To you, Clark Kent wasn't Superman. Superman was Clark Kent.

In all honesty, if just a few months ago, someone were to ask you who you liked better: Clark Kent or Superman? You'd say Clark Kent. He was a master journalist with more front pages than you could ever imagine yourself having.

Clark was also never freaked out by your invisibility. In fact, he always chuckled whenever something embarrassing would happen and you'd have to hide some part of yourself that had gone invisible. Slowly, Superman and Invisible Woman were nearly always seen working together to help save the city.

Perry’s front pages even started pairing your names.

Superman and Invisible Woman Prevent Tidal Catastrophe

Justice Pair Save Metropolis from Interdimensional Breach

Forcefield and Flight: The New Dynamic Duo?

Not that anyone knew what that actually meant. Not yet. Not even you.

Because Clark was still Clark. Gentle. Steady. The kind of person who saved the world and still offered to do the dishes. And you were still you. Deflecting with sarcasm, writing exposés by day and deflecting plasma beams by night, pretending like you didn’t feel something tighten in your chest every time he called you partner.

But it was there.

And every time he looked at you like you were more than just part of the job, more than a byline or a backup, you wondered how much longer you could keep pretending.

You told yourself it was just admiration. Just the thrill of working alongside one of the most iconic heroes in the world. Just the adrenaline of sharing a byline with Clark Kent, Superman.

But late at night after the rooftop rescues, the deadline sprints, the spontaneous pizza on the fire escape, there was a part of you that knew better. It wasn’t about the cape. Or the headlines. Or the city that never seemed to stop falling apart.

It was about the way he looked at you when you weren’t invisible. And even when you were.

Because somehow, Clark always saw you. Even in the silence between conversations, in the moments when your forcefields slipped, when you were too tired to be clever or guarded or strong—he saw you. And he never looked away.

"You ever miss Krypton?" You asked one night curiously, a half eaten slice of pizza in your hand.

Clark looked up from his seat across the couch, surprised. It wasn't by the question itself, but by the way you asked it. Casual. Soft. Like it had been sitting at the edge of your tongue for weeks, waiting for a quiet enough night to slip out.

The room was lit only by the lamp near the window and the flickering light of some old black-and-white movie playing in the background, but neither of you really watching it. The kind of night where the city felt quiet.

Clark leaned back, resting his elbows on his knees. "I don’t know if you can miss something you never really knew," he said after a moment, voice low.

You didn’t respond right away. Just nodded slowly, the slice of pizza forgotten in your hand.

"But sometimes.." he continued, "I think about what it would’ve been like. Who I might’ve been. Who my parents were. What they dreamed of. If they would’ve been proud of me."

You turned your head, eyes meeting his across the narrow space between you. "They would’ve loved you," you said quietly. "They would’ve been so proud."

Clark blinked, taken aback—not by the words, but by how fiercely you meant them. He offered you a soft, grateful smile. One of those half-smiles that didn’t reach all the way to his lips, but burned in his eyes.

"You think so?"

"I know so," you replied. "Because I know you. And if they were anything like you.." You shrugged. "Then Krypton was lucky to have them."

The comfortable silence between you stretched. You set your plate down on the coffee table and shifted a little closer, pulling your knees to your chest.

Clark’s voice was even softer now. "You ever think about what life would’ve been like if the accelerator hadn’t exploded?"

You breathed out a quiet laugh, but it wasn’t really funny. "All the time."

"Do you wish it never happened?"

You looked down, fingers brushing along the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. "Yeah," you softly said. "I wish it never happened.. the fact that it happened because someone covered up data and didn’t care who got hurt. But the powers?" You glanced back up at him, catching the way he was watching you again, like you were made of stars and secrets. "I think they found me for a reason. I just don’t always know what that reason is."

Clark nodded slowly. "I think you’re still figuring it out."

"I think I’m terrified of that."

He smiled again, gently this time, like it wasn’t just okay to be scared, it was expected. "I am too."

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Then, after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper, "Do you ever feel.. alone?"

Clark’s gaze didn’t waver. "I think so. Until I met you. Felt like a whole new chapter in my life. You living here, working with me, being my best friend."

The room went still. The movie in the background didn’t matter. The pizza had long gone cold. And suddenly, your heart was loud in your chest.

You swallowed hard. "Clark.."

But he didn’t lean in. He didn’t move a muscle. He wished he had. So did you.

Over the next few weeks, it was almost like the tension was building up.

It sat in the spaces between words. In the brush of your shoulders at the office printer. In the way your mugs were always side by side in the kitchen sink. In the late nights where you both stayed too long at The Planet, pretending the deadlines were why.

It was in the way Clark looked at you a second too long when you laughed. In the way your voice softened when you said his name. In the fact that neither of you ever brought up that night on the couch.

Not once. But the air changed around you.

He stopped knocking before walking into the living room. You stopped apologizing for falling asleep on the couch with your laptop open. He started learning how you liked your coffee—extra cream, no sugar—and you started keeping two spare ties in the hall closet just in case.

You never called it domestic. Neither of you would dare. But it was. Quietly, undeniably domestic.

The missions didn’t help.

Superman and Invisible Woman were a tag team now. The public started calling you the Sky and Surface. There were headlines, photos, footage. A whole Reddit thread dedicated to your dynamic, most of which you definitely didn’t scroll through at midnight while Clark was asleep down the hall.

He would hover close when you took a hit in battle. You would always know where he was before he said your name.

And still, no one moved. That was until now.

It was just some Imp from somewhere across the vast universe, but it was strong enough that you were tired. Clark was frustrated. He wasn’t angry at you. He never was. But he was frustrated because you were tired.

And the Imp—what was it this time, Mxyzptlk’s cousin?—was playing a game neither of you had the patience for. Looping physics, rewriting gravity mid-punch, and cackling like a cartoon villain as your forcefields cracked under the pressure of keeping civilians safe.

"Enough," Clark growled, low and warning.

He blurred forward, a red-and-blue streak of controlled fury, tackling the creature mid-air and sending them both crashing through a billboard high above the city. You landed below, hard on your knees, catching your breath, your fingers buzzing with strain.

"Need some help?"

You sighed, "You’ve gotta be kidding me."

Guy, along with the rest of the Justice Gang, grinned from ear to ear as they hovered above you. He looked as smug as ever. "Seems like this guy’s giving you hell," Guy replied, looking over to where Clark was trying to freeze it with his breath. 

You grunted. "He’s been rewriting the laws of thermodynamics for twenty minutes. I’m working on fumes here."

"Hey, no shame in that." Guy grinned. "I figured you could use a hand. Or five."

Hawkgirl rolled her eyes. "Let’s be honest, Guy’s just here to make snarky commentary."

"Which is emotionally vital to team morale," he fired back.

You shook your head. "Please. Just hit the damn thing."

"Gladly." Hawkgirl launched herself into the sky, a golden streak of righteous fury, and slammed her mace into the Imp’s path just as he tried to blink away.

Mister Terrific landed beside you a moment later, his T-Spheres hovering protectively overhead. He took one look at your face, pale, jaw clenched, hands still trembling from overuse, and frowned. "Stay here," he said, gentle but firm. "Catch your breath. Your field’s flickering."

You opened your mouth to argue, because of course you did. But he raised a hand before you could get a single word out.

"I know you can keep going. That’s not the point." His voice lowered, calm and even. "But you’re running on fumes, and I need you at one hundred percent in case this thing gets worse. So take the break. Recharge."

You hesitated, guilt bubbling under your ribs like static.

"I’m serious," he added. "Let the rest of us carry the next few minutes. You’ve done more than enough."

You finally let yourself sink to the curb, one knee drawn up, fingers pressing into your temples. The cool concrete felt almost good against your skin. Your forcefields wavered, then shimmered out completely. Rest mode.

Clark touched down beside you a beat later, crouching low enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "Hey, hey. You okay?" His voice was soft. Too soft. 

You nodded before you even processed the question, which probably gave you away.

Clark’s brow furrowed. "You’re shaking."

"I’m just—" You inhaled sharply, fingers curling into your lap. "I’m fine. Just hit my limit. It’ll pass."

Clark didn’t say anything right away. He shifted so he was fully facing you now, one knee on the ground, hand braced against the pavement. You couldn’t look at him. Not like this. Not with the exhaustion catching up to you and your adrenaline crashing hard.

"I’ve never seen you drop your field like that," he said quietly. "Not even when we fought Parasite."

You finally glanced at him, your throat dry. "This guy hit different."

Clark’s eyes searched yours like he was trying to read between the lines. "You don’t have to prove anything, you know that, right? Not to me. Not to them."

"I’m not," you said, and it wasn’t a lie exactly, but it wasn’t entirely true either.

He saw it. Of course he did.

"You don’t have to save the whole world by yourself," he added, even gentler now. "That’s kind of.. my thing."

You let out a weak laugh, one that cracked somewhere in the middle. Clark reached out slowly and rested his hand on your knee. Just pressure, presence.

"I hate seeing you like this," he said. "And I know you hate being seen like this."

"So let’s not be seen."

Clark couldn’t even get a moment to protest when he realized a barrier had gone around the two of you, making you invisible. He blinked at the sudden shift in light, the rest of the world fading into a soft blur beyond your invisible forcefield. Just the two of you, tucked inside a bubble of silence and bent light, the chaos and smoke of the battle muffled outside.

He didn’t speak. Not right away. Just crouched beside you, still and steady.

The hum of your field buzzed gently between your palms, the glow faint, flickering—like the heartbeat of something private. Something sacred.

"I just needed a second," you said quietly, finally breaking the silence. "Not to hide. Just.. to be. Without all of them looking."

Clark nodded. "Yeah. I get it."

Your eyes flicked toward him, a hint of surprise there. "Do you?"

He smiled, just a little. "I think we both spend a lot of time being what people expect. Sometimes you just want to take the cape off for a minute."

You let out a breath, soft and tired. "Exactly."

A few beats passed. Your forcefield crackled gently above you, and from the outside, no one would’ve guessed the world’s strongest man was sitting on a broken curb with someone who could barely hold her eyes open.

But in here? It was enough.

Clark shifted just slightly closer, the warmth of him grounding you. "You did good today."

"Barely."

"You did," he insisted, gentler now. "You always do."

You looked at him—really looked—and for a moment, it wasn’t Superman staring back at you. It was Clark. The man who made you tea when you had a migraine. The man who knew your coffee order better than you did. The man who never once asked you to be stronger than you already were.

"I think," you said softly, "this might be my favorite part of the job."

"What part?"

"This. Right now. Just.. you and me."

Clark's gaze didn’t waver. "Then let’s stay a little longer."

Clark sat close enough that his knee brushed yours. His hand was still on your leg, thumb gently moving back and forth like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. You looked at him again.

Not the suit, not the symbol, not the myth. Just the man. With the unruly hair and the soft eyes and the weight of the world tucked behind a smile that was always just for you.

Your voice, when it came, was almost a whisper. "Do you ever get tired of waiting?"

Clark tilted his head. "For what?"

"For the right time."

He didn’t say anything. But his eyes said enough. So you leaned in—just slightly. A test. A question.

And he met you halfway.

It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t desperate. It was slow, almost cautious, like neither of you wanted to break the moment you’d spent months circling. His hand slid up, resting lightly against your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. Your fingers curled in the fabric of his suit. And when your lips finally met his, it felt like exhaling for the first time in hours.

The kiss was soft. Sure. Familiar in a way it had no right to be.

Clark pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his smile blooming so gently it hurt.

"Your forcefield is.." You looked up to see what he meant. It was flickering, the rainbow’d look of the energy was dancing around the waves of energy.

"I’ve never seen it do that before," you whispered.

Clark smiled, forehead still resting against yours. "Maybe it’s responding to you."

"To us," you corrected softly.

His hand found yours—fingers lacing without hesitation—and you let yourself lean into him, the exhaustion melting just slightly at the edges of your ribs. "Think it’ll hold a little longer?" he asked.

You looked at the glowing field around you both, then back at him. "I think it’ll hold for as long as we want it to."

Clark smiled, leaned in again. While ignoring the swears from Guy, the screeches from Hawkgirl, and the loud grunts of the imp, the moment was perfect.

You two were perfect.

[zaras22]

the adepti are so silly istg

[einaudis]

I wonder if Oppenheimer will be back in theaters here as well. Because I have this supreme need to go again just for the "Can You Hear the Music?" sequence.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!

The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.

“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.

The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”

“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.

“Then I bring the cheese here.”

“Yes.”

“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”

“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.

“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”

A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”

“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”

“No,” she said flatly.

It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.

“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”

“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”

“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”

The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.

“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”

The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”

“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”

This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.

“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”

A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.

“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”

The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”

“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.

“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”

In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.

“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”

She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | TEMPER

sum. : remus is usually a grump, as dismal as a cloudy day and you're his sunshine, whether he accepts it or not -- he denies it vehemently until his sensitive nerves make him lash out the day of a full moon

length : 2.2k

tags. : grumpy remus ; sunshine reader ; opposites attract ; angst with a happy ending ; remus is a meanie ; reader is stubborn ; a little ooc remus lupin ; fluff ; angst

navi. | more remus lupin

Remus thinks you’re strange. He didn’t know of you until you made yourself known to him, wearing the brightest smile he had ever seen on a person. It was like the sun breaking through a stubborn wall of clouds on an otherwise dismal day. He wasn’t usually the extroverted type, especially with Sirius, James and Peter as his best mates so he was surprised that someone like him managed to catch your eye.  

He was perfectly fine with being a silent presence in his close group of friends, appreciating them for their companionship despite knowing of his ‘furry little problem’. He hardly interacted with others outside his small group and preferred it that way. So when you suddenly appeared before him, he didn’t know what to do with you. 

You had a horrible preference for appearing whenever he was reading in the library – something he enjoyed for academic and recreational purposes. James, Sirius and Peter never understood his fondness for reading so left him alone whenever he simply wanted to read. He was more than comfortable with having only himself for company until you started sitting with him. That was how you first got to know each other or, rather, how you made him your ‘friend’ but not by choice. 

“What are you reading there?” your chirpy voice cuts through the silence that first day. Hoping you weren’t talking to him, Remus ignored you and, instead, brought his book closer to shield his face. “Hello?~” you sang softly after a beat of silence and he could hear the smile in your words. Finally, Remus looks up but only spares you a brief once-over. He was being rude, yes, but so were you for interrupting his reading. Remus also couldn’t stand seeing your bright and sunny gaze for longer than he’d be willing to stare directly at the sun. He’s half convinced he’d burn himself if he looked at you too long.

“Frankenstein,” he answers quietly, hoping you’d leave soon enough… but that was wishful thinking on his part. 

“Oh! A muggle book? That’s pretty cool.” there’s a pause after Remus gives an acknowledging grunt but nothing more. Please go away!  He remembers pleading to himself as he tried to find where he last left off – you were too distracting, “May I sit with you?” Remus goes to give you a judging look but you’re already sitting in the seat across from him when he looks up. He glares at your happy disposition, unaffected by his obvious disapproval, much to his irritation. His annoyance flares sharply as he emits a low growl from deep within his chest but there’s no response from you. You’re as immovable as a mountain. He has no choice but to accept his fate and does his best to ignore you in favour of reading. 

However, in doing so, he had deeply underestimated how determined you were to disturb his peace. 

From his periphery, he sees you pausing in your own reading to stare blatantly at him from across the table. Your first few attempts were, somewhat, sneaky but, over time, you eventually gave in to an obnoxious stare. Remus felt like he couldn’t turn a single page without you eyeing his long fingers. Your eyes peek out from over your book and Remus has to fight himself to keep from getting lost in your curious, twinkling eyes. 

“What do you want?” he snaps agitated and suppressing the horrible urge to grind his teeth menacingly at you. A disguised effort to resist your infuriating charms. Someone this annoyingly persistent shouldn’t be so adorable. 

“Sorry, I umm…. I just wanted to know what your Frankenstein book was about…”

You were polite and sweet with the decency to appear, somewhat, ashamed of your behaviour —it was very cute— but that only seemed to rile Remus up even more, “Read it yourself.” he snaps again and continues reading. 

He doesn’t feel bad for snapping at you, which is why he avoids your gaze entirely. In his efforts, he manages to make more progress with reading and doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until the ache in his neck makes him look up and see you asleep atop the table. Rolling his eyes, Remus packs his things and leaves you to return to Gryffindor Tower — he’s not a babysitter so he shouldn’t feel guilty and he shouldn’t look back. But he does alert the librarian about your presence so that she gets you up instead. 

Remus doesn’t see you until a few days later when you happen upon him in the library and disturb his peace once again. When he looks up this time, however, his eyes manage to linger on your smile before you direct his attention to a copy of Frankenstein in your hand. It makes him raise a brown in silent question. 

“I got the book to read as you suggested,” you ramble on more than is necessary. At least your voice isn’t super annoying, it’s actually quite nice to listen to, “I haven’t read much yet but it’s really good so far. It’s not like anything I’ve ever read before. You have a really good taste in books,” by this point, Remus has already buried his attention back into the pages of his current book and tries to zone you out with only minimal success, “May I sit with you?” that question immediately catches his attention and he almost snaps his neck in half, looking up to firmly reject your attempts. 

“No–!” but he was too late as you were already sitting down and smiling innocently from your seat across the table. He frowns deeply and sighs loudly, making his annoyance obvious but you’re unbothered and already have your book open. His eyes narrow, perplexed at how someone can act so brazenly. He notices the stray hair that falls out of place, the slight crookedness of your collar, the focus in your eyes, the softness of your skin and the gentle curve of your face… You’re so annoying! “What edition do you have?” he suddenly asks, his voice rough and disinterested as if he couldn’t care less whether you answered him or not. He wasn’t interested at all; he just needed to desperately put an end to his earlier train of thought. Hopefully, your response would irk him again and he could return to being rightfully irritated by you. 

“Oh um…” you flick to the very first page of the book, “I have the 1818 edition, why?” you’re smiling sweetly and he scoffs, turning his head away. His ears had become a bright pink beneath his hair. 

“No reason…” The two of you return to reading your individual books while Remus hopes you don’t register the subconscious hum of approval he let out. He’s only happy you’re reading the original, unrevised version. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The two of you have become an unusual pair that is often seen around Hogwarts. Many have criticised you for always trailing behind the tall Gryffindor, and despite his cold, impartial disposition towards you, Remus is the first to put an end to such ‘annoying’ talk. 

“Stop talking about things you hardly know anything about,” he would often use his tall height to glare down at those same, clueless people, demeaning them further. And, although that should have been the end of it, many persisted to the point where James, Sirius, and Peter also stepped in when neither of you were around to defend your unusual pairing. 

“Thank you, Remus,” you would chirp at him but receive no response in return. It was odd that, despite his cold shoulder, you persisted. Always wanting to be his friend, always smiling so easily, always greeting him with a friendly tone. It didn’t make sense to him. 

Deep down, Remus wants to keep you. He thinks you are adorable; you are a shining light to a monster like him, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Whenever you stand particularly close to him, he savours the warmth you radiate. And whenever you talk, no matter if it is nonsense, he always listens, even if he pretends to ignore you by doing something else entirely. He keeps you at a distance but also wants you close at the same time – he was confusing even himself! 

He was grateful for your consistency, however. Grateful until the week of the full moon. 

You are consistent, and that was something Remus always appreciated about you. But it has become Remus’ main point of irritation for the past few days. Everywhere he looked, you were there, smiling brightly as always, but his sensitive nerves have grown intolerant of you; as soon as he sees you approach, he turns away and hurriedly escapes your company. It scares him to feel so genuinely irritated by you that he doesn’t dare lash out. In the beginning of his friendship with the Marauders, he had lashed out at them too, but their determination for a close bond kept them together. He knows how persistent you can be, but losing you is a thought that makes his blood run cold and leaves an awful taste in his mouth, worse than any potion. 

True to your character, however, you manage to corner him after three days of avoidance, the day the full moon would finally appear in the night sky. It was only a matter of time, but why today of all days? 

“You have the worst timing…” Remus mutters to himself as you innocently tilt your head in question. Usually, as perceptive as he is, Remus would have answered your silent question by now, but he remains silent. The still pause stretches on between you, and Remus uses it as the perfect opportunity to turn away and begin walking off. However, you are adamant about not letting him leave and hug his arm to anchor him down — this is the closest the two of you have ever been. Although Remus never raised a hand at you, his violent flinch to escape your touch makes your heart stop. “Don’t. Touch. Me!” he growls lowly through clenched teeth, his expression making you freeze up. 

“I-I just…” Under his intimidating gaze, you deflate and confess honestly. “I missed you…I haven’t seen you in three days, and you’re my friend. I was really worried. Did I do something wrong?—” 

“If I walk away, then that means I don’t want you anywhere near me!” Remus glares coldly at you, his face crumpled into one that completely replaces his once gentle features. He is unrecognisable. “Leave me alone!” With that, he turns and leaves, a boulder in his stomach and a bitter taste in his mouth, with the still silence ringing in his ears. He needs to get a hold of himself; he can’t believe he lashed out at you like that. Hopefully, you will leave him alone from now on, at least until after he has recovered from his transformation. 

Remus was halfway down the hall when the silence was finally broken by a soft sniffle and a suppressed whimper. He stops completely in his tracks. He dreads turning around, frozen in place in his fear that he had made you cry. The soft footfalls that follow as you walk away prompt him to turn and rush to you, desperate to correct his mistake. 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, his heart thundering in his chest as he runs to you. It isn’t until he sees your heartbroken expression and the tears falling from your eyes that he drops to his knees and hugs you around the waist, burying his face in your stomach as he repeats his apology over and over. It is overdramatic, in hindsight, but in the moment, he can’t think of any other way to keep you from completely turning away from him. His lycanthropy has taken so many things away from him, and now he is about to lose the one thing he would fall apart without. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it. Please forgive me, love,” 

Never before had you heard such affection in Remus’ words than in that moment. You don’t know what compelled him to be so incredibly mean, but his softened, pleading eyes, as he looks up from where he presses his cheek against your torso, have your knees weakening. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Ever since that day, Remus was found to be always trailing after you, always touching you and eagerly leaning down to hear you better. He loves peering intimately into your beautiful eyes and getting to smell your sweet fragrance. He now insists that you sit in his lap every time you join him to read in the library together. Feeling you close and getting the chance to hold you in his arms is an addictive feeling that Remus will never tire of. 

“Let me carry that for you, love,” Remus’ soft whisper has you hypnotically handing over your books as heat rises up your neck, “I’ll take you to class, today,”

“You walk me to class every day, Rem,” you giggle and smile as he presses a kiss to your temple and nuzzles your crown affectionately. 

“What about it?” there isn’t a trace of malice in his voice, only warmth. 

“Nothing~” he doesn’t let you go easily. Before you begin walking to class, he holds your chin and tilts it up ever so slightly, guiding your lips to meet his own in a soft kiss. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” his loving eyes and soft words make you melt. You’ve never had a more perfect morning.

“Good morning, Rem,” 

navi. | more remus lupin

a/n : this is dedicated to my darling friend @cheriiepies who's birthday is new years! i hope you enjoy this short imagine/oneshot, my lovely! i just hope i managed to include everything you wanted to me to include. and HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE! I hope you're surrounded by all the love and happiness you deserve on your special day!

[ratgrinders]

Ok here's an updated timeline of the Rat Grinders based on the new info we got this episode:

Freshman Year

On the first day of classes Kipperlily and the others meet and form their adventuring party. Kipperlily comes up with the name the High Five Heroes.

Kipperlily excels academically, but the High Five Heroes only go on easier adventures, presumably to ensure they will succeed rather than fail at something challenging.

Ruben is primarily an acoustic/soft rock musician.

Kipperlily begins to have childish rage and resentment towards Riz and the other Bad Kids, which start out petty but gradually grow in intensity over the next couple years.

Sophomore Year

An increase in hostility, one of the first meetings Kipperlily has this year is being jealous that Riz's dad was killed by Kalvaxus, that if a person has suffered immense magical hardship it is an unfair advantage in adventuring.

Kipperlily tries to find evidence of conspiracy with her parents and is enraged that they are boring.

A week after spring break the High Five Heroes go on their first quest to the mountains of chaos, chaperoned by Jace Stardiamond.

After this, the High Five Heroes seem to undergo a shift where their rage is amplified. Kipperlily's counselor files become much more venomous towards the Bad Kids, Ruben shifts to emo music, etc.

At some point after this Ivy and Oisin propose changing the name to the Rat Grinders. Kipperlily opposes this and Lucy is on her side, but Ruben votes against her because it makes her upset and Mary Ann also votes against her but doesn't explain her reasoning.

A piece of paperwork is submitted for Lucy to change her god, but another piece of paperwork is filed afterwards rescinding that application, presumably by Lucy herself changing her mind.

Towards the end of the year, after grades are finalized but before classes are over thus avoiding the pass/fail penalty, Lucy dies in the far haven woods near Aguefort. Presumably, she could have been resurrected in service of this unnamed rage god, but chose not to. She "stuck to her guns".

Kipperlily's rage towards the Bad Kids has transitioned from childish to venomous, she "hates them".

Junior Year

At some point between the end of Sophomore year and the beginning of Junior year, the Rat Grinders specifically request Buddy Dawn join their party as a cleric.

At 8:01 am, the first day of classes, Kipperlily goes to Ashgrove to dig up the rogue teacher's grave, thus forcing her to reveal herself and granting Kipperlily a pass for all her rogue classes for the year. Presumably she was aware of the rogue teacher's grave beforehand (information only available in Arthur Aguefort's office) but waited until the start of Junior year so she could pass all her classes for the year.

Kipperlily announces her bid to run for student council president, with a platform based on equity, equanimity, and fairness.

Kipperlily asks Jawbone about the creation of Yes! and the events of prompocalypse

Her counselor notes become extremely enraged, with her straight up wanting to kill Kristin and being angry that she can't get to her thanks to Fig's protection.

Oisin, Ivy, and Buddy are seen at Fabian's house party during the first week of classes. Kipperlily is not seen but is possibly there invisible. The Bad Kids are asked to do drugs but decline. That same night, mephits steal part of a cloud rider engine kept in Seacaster Manor.

At the school assembly the following day Principal Grix reveals he was notified of students doing drugs off campus, meaning its possible the Rat Grinders tipped him off in an attempt to get the Bad Kids in trouble.

Ruben performs presumably some kind of ritual at the Frosty Fair Folk festival, with the other Rat Grinders conspicuously absent. Simultaneously, Yolanda Badgood falls dead in the same place where Lucy Frostblade died, after Yolanda had been made aware of Lucy's change in god and was investigating it. Yolanda also refuses to be resurrected in service of the rage god.

The Rat Grinders are seen at the assembly addressing Yolanda's death and how all clerics would be moved to pass/fail. Most look bored, Mary Ann isn't paying attention, and Buddy is unconcerned.

Kipperlily and Oisin get caught trying to sabotage the Bad Kids' Last Stand exam, and Kipperlily kills Buddy. Ten minutes after the Bad Kids plane shift away, Buddy is revived by an unknown figure and he pledges his allegiance to the rage god.

Now the Rat Grinders are scheduled for another trip to the Mountains of Chaos and are on complete lockdown, hiding all of them from Adaine's divination magic.

[strawberry-bubblef]

May I request some Malleus x Asian dragon reader? I just think the contrast between a western dragon and an asian dragon is neat

Asian dragon reader x Malleus

I’m not very familiar with Asian dragons, but I did my best to research about them them,sorry if I got anything wrong.Feel free to correct me!

Everyone knows who Malleus Draconia is.

A prince of thorns, shadowed by stormclouds and legacy, feared and revered in equal measure. The horned fae, the dragon of Diasomnia, heir to a kingdom most only speak of in hushed awe.

And you?

You are something older.

Not feared, not whispered of, revered. A whisper in the wind, a shimmer of scales gliding between the clouds. A celestial serpent, a creature of rain and sky, called by ancient temples and children’s prayers for rain.

You and Malleus are both dragons, yes. But you are night and dawn. Fire and river. Thunder and rain.

You meet at Night Raven College , you, summoned by strange magic you’ve never quite trusted, and Malleus, watching from the shadows with curious green eyes. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was the pull of your shared natures. But it doesn’t take long before you’re drawn to each other,not by the ferocity of your power, but by the loneliness beneath it.

And now?

Now, he rests his head on your shoulder as you both sit in the spires of Diasomnia’s tallest tower, silent save for the quiet wind brushing against your horns.

"You’re warm tonight," you murmur.

He huffs a laugh. "You always say that. You’re the one who's cold like cloudwater."

You turn your head to look at him, elegant, regal. His eyes glow faintly in the darkness, but they soften when he gazes at you.

“You burn like wildfire,” you say. “I glide like mist. You were raised to cast shadows. I was raised to clear skies.”

And he smiles at that, not the polite prince’s smile, but the one only you get to see. Soft. Secret. Full of something that borders reverence.

“Opposites,” he says. “Yet here we are.”

It’s not always easy.

There are moments when he rages,when centuries of solitude and misunderstanding claw at him like ghosts. When his temper crackles in the air and the world remembers why fae are feared.

But you, ancient and serene, don’t flinch.

Instead, you wrap yourself around him, coils and breath and calm. You press your forehead to his and whisper, “Storms pass. They always do.”

He clings to your voice like it’s a prayer.

And there are times you falter, too. When you’re lost in memories of temples long crumbled, of people who once knelt to offer offerings.You wonder if you’re still needed. Still wanted.

“Your divinity never needed belief,” Malleus says one night, when he finds you staring at the sky with distant eyes. “You shine, whether anyone is watching or not.”

He brushes your cheek with the back of his hand, and you lean into it like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered.

“You found me,” you whisper. “When I thought I’d drift forever.”

In your dragon forms, the difference is even starker.

He is massive, winged and imposing, fire and smoke and ancient wrath.

You are long and serpentine, without wings, moving through air as if it’s water, trailing stars with every movement.

When you fly together, you are yin and yang,the sky splits with thunder and clears behind you with rainbows. Watching you together is like witnessing the balance of nature itself. Malleus, fierce and quiet. You, gentle and eternal.

He tells you stories of Briar Valley. You tell him tales from the clouds, of mountains that cry, of dragons who live in the rivers and whisper to fishermen. He listens as though hearing stories from another world.

And when you return home together,to your ancestral temple, deep in a bamboo forest few mortals find,he bows before the great stone gate. Not out of obligation, but because he knows what you are.

“I do not kneel easily,” he says, voice low, “but your roots demand reverence.”

You lead him inside, your form shimmering under moonlight, and the old spirits watch. They whisper of harmony. Of balance.

Of a future forged from thunder and mist.

In quiet moments, he holds your hand and traces the long curve of your claws.

“In another universe” he says, “we might have been enemies.”

You shake your head, resting your forehead against his. “In every universe, I would have found you.”

He believes you.

Because the contrast between you is not what divides, it’s what binds.

You are not two halves of a coin, nor two sides of a blade.

You are sky and earth. River and fire.

And where you meet, something holy grows.

English is not my first language !

[mehiwilldoitlater]

When you were taken by your original world and sent into some kind of ancient China, full of demons and monsters, you weren't exactly sure why you were supposed to assist the "Destined one." Damn, you didn't even know how this.

When you find out that this destiny one was some kind of successor of Sun Wukong, saying that you were surprised was a joke.

His eyes scrutinized you; they were dark with a tint of gold when the light stricked them. He silently circled you, creating some distance between you, himself, and the other monkeys, curious about the mortals that presented themselves on their mountain.

Every time you tried to keep some distance, he was ready to close it enough to never leave his sight. What a strange situation, and what strange creature was sent to him just at the dawn of his journey.

The stories portrayed Wukong, as the name says, as a monkey kind of guy: cheerful, ready to make some jokes, who liked to make fun of people and laugh. And yet, the destined one was nothing like this trope.

He was composed, serious, and always straight forward. It was like he decided to expel every fun side from him in order to fulfill his duty.

Despite that, he showed more side to you: he was caring, trying to understand your confusion and fear while in a new world, always remembering to keep your peace while walking to make sure that you didn't get lost around. He was your protector, always ready to strike at every danger, and a good friend in the moment of agony.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't cry for these things, but... I'm sorry, so sorry."

You missed home. You never could believe yourself, but you missed your monothone and unsavory life. You missed waking up, going to walk, listening to endless hours of your boss rumbling—you missed even the crappy food of the cafeteria!

Everything seems so far away, without hope of reaching it. And you felt like trash because he was the one that was there to listen. You felt ashame, ashame of the fact that you were there complaining about what you lost while he was there fighting for both of you. You tried to cover your eyes, holding your breath to calm down, but nothing worked at all.

A stream of tears keeps on crashing down, hiccups escaping your lungs without stop.

Then, you felt his arms—two pairs of strong and soft arms, protecting your now vulnerable state from everything and everyone. His tail followed his gesture, keeping you in place and warm—so warm.

"Please." His high peech voice is now reduced to a whisper. "Don't hold it. Don't hold the pain. I can't see you like this. Please, whatever cloud your heart, speak to me."

Soon, you both became inseparable. You followed him like a shadow, carrying pills and balms, making plans with him for your next move. Damn, even Bajie couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you behind the monkey, a little afraid of the newcomer of the group.

You weren't anymore just some random mortal the Destined one had found and kept at his tail; now you were the Destined done caompanion and trusted friend. His journey became your journey, and his task your task. You both became bound by a silent vow.

"Say...why don't you choose a name? A real one this time."

"I never thought about it." He started to play with a leaf fallen from the nearby tree, thinking about your new idea.

You reached his side, holding his hand in yours, caressing the black claws on it. Once those scared you, now you wonder if a nice manicure could make them look prettier than now.

"Well, you can't let me call you Destined One or Monkey forever! You need a proper name! Something nice! ...umm...how about... Yuánfèn?"

"Um? Since when can you name people here?"

"Well," you continued, "it's destiny in Chinese, no? Like..fate!"

He looked at you, then laughed between his teeth a little. "There's no difference in how they usually call me then!"

"Yes, but...this is how I call you! So is different!"

Soon, you start to not miss home that much. You start to hope to be closer to him—to not go back. You hope that, after your honeymoon, you can stay together and that, despite all, there can be a happy ending for both of you. And silently, in his head, he hoped that too.

"May i?"

He gave you his silent consent, allowing you to caress his cheek with your so small fingers. Your lips met his own, your gesture so timid and gentle that you ask yourself if it's still a small image in your mind instead of something that you're actually doing now. He hasn't moved an inch; confusion starts to come to him and yourself, to the point that you need to stop. Now you just feel ashamed; you felt that you crossed a line, and now you don't even know if you can even go back.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

A small shush from him, his finger holding your chin and guiding you against him. This time, he's trying to mimic your gesture, a blush forming from his face to the visible part of his ears. His kiss is trembling but fierce. He waited long enough to see your still puzzled face.

"I...may don't get how you did it...Can you show me...again, please?"

You don't need to let him ask again; soon your lips smash together again, showing him exactly what's happening.

Your fate is sealed with that kiss, and there's no force on heaven and earth to undo it.

@sun-jglim