#clash of the geniuses

[zeldasnotes]

SQUARE OBSERVATIONS 🪽

Read before you proceed: These are my personal observations and not facts. The whole chart has to be taken into consideration.

Mars Square Jupiter can make someone super ambitious but it can also make someone lazy bc they want what they want NOW. And if they cant have it instantly they might be like ”f*ck it then I dont want it” and therefore dont work for it. But on the other hand these people are experts on how to find a quick way to get stuff, waiting is not for them.

Mars Square Neptune can give someone a beautiful body language. The way they walk, dance and move in general can be mesmerizing. Like a balet dancer.

If you date a Venus Square Moon/Lilith man you will know the meaning of the quote “Half of me is beautiful, but you were never sure which half.” — Ruth Feldman, “Lilith”. He got different types of archetypes in his head fighting and you will only fit one of them.

People with Sun Square Mars are some of the most ambitious people you can find when they stop putting focus on worthless competitions with other people and instead put that energy into their goals.

Sun Square Moon is having an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other. Whatever choice you make the other half of you disagrees with.

Venus Square Pluto attract powerful people very easily. If you check the charts of the wives of the most powerful men in the world you will see this aspect pop up in a lot of the charts. Trophy wife aspect.

Venus Square Ascendant can make Venus very turned off by Ascendant behaviour. As a Cap Rising most Venus in Aries men were very turned off by my boring, stoic and calm behaviour.

Sun Square Mars in synastry very often leads to conflict from what Ive seen.

Ive noticed that people who have Moon or Venus Square Pluto had a mother who had a hard time bonding with them when they were babies or the mother suffer from post partum depression . Bc of this some people with these aspects experience an obsession with women since they have an inner inexplainable hunger for a motherfigure.

A situation Ive seen in the charts of some guys with Lilith Square Venus was that they hang around socially acceptable people(Venus ppl) but tend to fall for women who are considered not socially acceptable(bad rep etc, typical Lilith women) so their love life clash with their friendships and social life unless his friends learn to accept their partner.

Moon Square Pluto people have very strong reactions to others. Sometimes its their intuition but sometimes its just pure projection. Can be very quick to judge.

Getting into a relationship with someone with Sun Square Ascendant can be a real shocker bc you saw one thing and you got something else. That carefree, swaggy straighforward Aries Rising with Cancer Sun guy you met at the bar turned out to be much more passive aggressive, grudgeholding and sensitive than he seemed at first sight.

Mars Square Uranus = 0 to 100 real quick. They can get stuff done fast tho! Geniuses when it comes to fighting too.

Juno Square Venus people have a tendency to meet a partner who fits their Venus and then try to change them to become more like their Juno. For example someone with Venus in Aquarius Square Juno in Taurus meets and Aquarius Rising woman and falls for her because she is so unique, free spirited and how she goes against traditions. But when he gets her he tries to make her more traditional and might shame her uniqueness.

People who are into men and have Juno Square Mars like one kind of man in bed and another kind of man for relationships. They have two types which can be very hurtful for the guy they are into. (Im not saying they will cheat im just saying they are never satisfied)

If you want an honest answer ask someone with Mercury Square Mars. They will tell you.

People with Neptune Square either Venus or Ascendant are the most likely to have absolutely no idea how they look like.

Ceres Square Pluto can indicate someone who becomes obsessively attached to anyone who makes them feel the slightest feeling of nurture. They might baby others or want others to baby them.

Venus Square Jupiter people are so loving and generous. They really love giving.

Venus Square Saturn NEEDS to be respected and to be ”somebody”. Respect is so important to them.

Venus Square Uranus make the craziest outfits work. They have you like ”What the helll is she wearing?? But it looks kinds good…?”

Venus Square Neptune = The cool girl monologue ”Nick and Amy will be gone. But then we never really existed. Nick loved a girl I was pretending to be. Cool girl. Men always use that, don’t they?  As their defining compliment. She’s a Cool girl. Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrin loving manner and then presents her mouth for f*cking. She like what he likes.”

© 2023 Zeldas Notes

[tarjapearce]

Ok, ok, ok, hear me out….

Tarzan Miguel…

Ahh, nonny. Casually just saw this scrumptious fanart of him as Tarzan by @Miuworm in X 🫠. And yeah. (Kinda amazed at how you guys manifest these things 🤭)

Like Me

Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Reader.

WARNINGS: nothing too bad. Depictions of violence, a bit of implicit gore and animal death. No proofread.

Summary: Your savior from a certain death is quite touchy-feely.

Another for Miguelverse ❤️✨

The furious waves of the sea clashed over your body, submerging it in the freezing and alive water.

Arms moved, swimming your way back up, gasping for a much needed gulp of air as soon as you reached the surface.

Peeking around you, trying to find something to get a hold of or climb on, exhaustion was crawling up to your limbs, like hypothermia.

Fuck

Mind cursed with every foul word you could've imagine. How did trip ended up like this? In what moment the clouds turned so grey they darkened the sky, announcing a downpour with a loud rumble? It all took minutes to go sour and south.

You were there to do a land recognition, and see if you could get home some new species. Sergei Kravinoff, or Kraven The Hunter, was the lead of your expedition, all financed by a man named Kingpin.

Your name was called, echoed in the distance.

"Over here!!" You flailed your arms in an attempt of being seen, and hopefully the debris wouldn't blear their sight to find you.

You swam in the direction of the voice, teeth clattered, tool belt heavy on your hips, but you knew if you lost them, any possible chance of getting another were impossible. Plus, Kraven hated it when you lost your equipment as they weren't cheap.

Every paddle of your arms felt heavier, like if your wrists had been tied up with iron pounds, dragging you down. Lips turned blue and trembled. Salty and cold water doused you, but you weren't to give up.

You had fought your way to get a spot in this expedition and a pathetic ending like drowning wasn't an option. You spotted a wooden board floating nearby.

C'mon!

Your hands stretched towards it anf finally managed to keep yourself afloat. Panting, groaning and shivering, letting the cold to finally sink in. Feet had started to numb out, ragged breaths turned laborious.

Once more someone called you, this time you recognised the voice. Peter, the other nerd according to Kraven. You two were the ones selected to be the scientist that would lead Kraven to a certain victory in Nueva York.

Ever since Norman Osborn and Otto Octavius had discovered new species of spiders and reptiles, everyone proclaimed them geniuses ahead of their time, leaving the hunting behind.

Kraven was set into getting either a new species or something alike to regain his forlorn glory. He refused to be forgotten.

But everything pointed that the island you were now had a mind of its own. As if preventing anyone to delve in further into it's secrets.

You were pulled out from the board by Peter that immediately covered you up in a raggedy blanket. Despite the fabric being old, it gave you enough warmth to avoid death taking a hold on you.

Kraven cursed in russian, but was hopeful y'all be found soon. The ship's black box was ruined, your luggage at least was minimal, and it was enough to be saved by ether Peter or anyone kind enough.

A powerful and enormous wave had turned the boat upside-down. Knocking everything loose out of the board. The guns and other tools were the only things that survived.

But, you hoped, the whole fiasco was just temporary. Fisk wasn't a careless man, he'd probably send help soon. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your bones to freeze.

----

You woke up nearby the makeshift fireplace, relishing the heat your body had lacked. Clothes were humid, but no longer soaked and freezing.

Sighing, you stirred awake, letting the tension leave your body with a groan.

"Hey, wake up." Peter approached, concern etched into his features as he helped you on your feet.

"Where's everyone?"

"I... We uh, got lost. One moment Kraven is here and the other he's not. Left us behind. Or, he also got lost."

"Kraven? Lost?" Peter could sense the deadpan in your voice and he sighed, exasperated.

"I'm just trying to light up the mood. He was pissed. So I assume that he just thought he'd do it himself." He shrugged and you sighed, rubbing your neck.

"Great! now we're lost, my luggage is nowhere to be found but at least we have tools, right?"

The faltering in Peter's face made yours to fall as he shook his head.

"God, I swear... Fuck him. If I'm discovering something, Ain't sharing with him!"

"Let's focus on surviving first. The soil is rich, meaning the jungle is nearby."

"And so is the wild life." You sighed and Peter groaned.

"Look, thinking negatively won't take us anywhere. I'm not saying either let's throw a party for being stuck in an unknown place. But we gotta move. It's about to get dark."

"Right... You're right" You rubbed your face, exhausted, at least you weren't freezing anymore. But being at Nature's mercy wasn't pretty either, yet again. You were selected by none other than Sergei. If he trusted your judgement to be valuable enough, why couldn't you?

With a new resolution in mind, you took the raggedy blanket and other little tools Peter managed to salvage and soon ventured yourselves in the thickness of the jungle.

-----

Sun had long disappeared in the sky leaving a faint trail of golden and orange in the clouds, and you were certain that it had been hours since you walked in the jungle. No signs of Kraven or the caravan of people.

No signs of society or at least his stupid russian jokes that you were sure people laughed at by sheer convenience.

The only advantage Kraven possessed in his favor, was him being an avid hunter. You only studied species, animals and flowers to be more precise, and had a little knowledge of mechanics. Enough to fix your own machines and trinkets. Peter was an expert in mechanics and soil. You followed him.

"I think I've seen that rock before" Peter sighed as he slouched against a tree.

"Don't say that, Parker." You wheezed as you followed him, resting your aching back against him. "I'm definitely finding some poison and put it on Kraven's drink."

"Relax. Without us he's going into unknown territory."

"In case you haven't noticed, he's a professional hunter. And I hate with passion skirts."

The distant rumble of a storm approaching echoed through the sky.

"A hunter, not a geologist. He acts like an animal to get animal bodies."

"Still, he knows his way around these places, Pete."

"Shooting things till they're dead isn't knowing about things"

Peter stood and offered his hand.

"Uh-uh I just sat down."

"We gotta at least go upwards. This area is prone to flooding."

With a vexed groan you took Peter's hand and he pulled you up. You were tired of walking, but if he said you needed to advance, you obeyed.

"Fuck..."

----

Despite the soaking rain pouring around you, Peter had found an amalgamation of trees and branches supported by a hollow tree.

Birds chirped and cawed, bugs joined the concert once the rain subsided, the distant flapping of the birds and the rustle of leafs prevented you from lowering your guard. The only comforting thing besides Peter's company was the petrichor smell, pungent in the air.

You'd spend hours inhaling the gift of nature, if it wasn't for your belly grumbling, and Peter had ran out of cashews.

Even crickets sounded tempting to eat. With the right spices, they tasted crunchy. But all you could do was to imagine their taste as it was time to move again.

"Knowing Kraven, he'd go up to the mountains, probably they've sent a camp nearby a river. So let's look for one."

"Yeah, even better so I can drown that fucker in. He better pay us good for this stupid prank."

Peter chuckled and looked around for a minute, his blue eyes narrowed upon setting his sight in a tree trunk. Broken in half, but what truly made his... whatever this unpleasant feeling to rise within was the vicious marks indented on the tree bark.

Powerful scratches filled with bloody chum and crimson liquid, paw like marks painted in the trunk. The source of such gruesome spectacle laid in whatever pieces was left a couple of inches away.  He could make out a tail, and small hind legs. A baby monkey, or rather half of it.

"Uh... We better hurry."

Peter swallowed, and the urgency in his tone only made your worry to shoot heavenwards.

You both walked, speeding up the step. Unaware of the keen eyes, hidden in the bushes that followed your every moves like a hawk. A low growl filled in the space he occupied.

---

You were certainly to die.

Undeniably, and it didn't matter how fast you managed to run, the jaguar quick paced trotting had you pushing your limits. Tears blurred your sight, as a garbled sob escaped your lips.

Scratches adorned your arms, decorating your flesh with fresh oozing wounds, dirt and leafs stuck to your marred flesh.

Chest heaved with deep and ragged pants, wobbly legs menaced to give in under the pressure at any second

You were going to die.

Even though life had been incredibly dull and the only comfort was your investigation, you didn't want it to end so soon. Not whenyou were about to accomplish a promise to yourself.

Peter had gone lost and separated once the chase began. One minute he was before you, and the other, your friend was gone, out of sight and reach. But the relentless giant feline behind you preferred you. An easy prey.

Your wails and cries for help fell upon deaf ears, who would listen to you in the middle of the jungle? For once you wished to have Kraven's gun expertise.

You didn't care if hypocrite defined you right now. You took a thick branch, swinging it with difficulty and pain at the euphoric beast, like a demotivated baseball player. But the jaguar's claws swatted the useless weapon away from your hands, and making you stumble on the ground.

This was it.

Oh God, oh my god, no, no no

The animal pounced and by instinct, you shielded your body with your shaky limbs. But no harm came.

You could feel the beast's warm and bloodthirsty breath on your head, snapping it's maws at you, desperately trying to reach for a bite of your supple flesh.

Eyes wide in horror, and disbelief. The jaguar was held by his tail, earning whoever that was holding it back from devouring you a couple of swings with it's sharp claws. But the animal was set into getting to you. It pounced on your boots, claws sinking on the back of hour ankles, earning a sobbing and painful wail.

A gruesome crack and a roar echoed behind you, and only then you were able to see your savior.

The tallest man you've ever seen, even taller than Kraven, strong and well built physique, a rich tanned skin full of scratches and long healed wounds. Hair long, reaching a bit past his shoulders, muscles that heaved and rippled in every breathing you did. Body hair etched beautifully in his skin.

Covered in nothing but a loincloth.

If it wasn't for you being at the death's gates, you'd take your time to study him.

You gasped as he held the oversized cat with his hands and slammed it on the ground. They circled eachother, shifting between the roles of hunter and prey.

The feline hissed, and the man returned the threat, a cold sweat ran down your spine upon watching two overgrown canines, on his mouth. Fangs. He had fangs. Brown eyes stared at the four legged monster, defying it.

And soon the jaguar took his invitation. The two majestic creatures fought, enraged, proving their prowess to eachother, disputing the role of Alpha within the jungle's hierarchy. They rolled on the ground, biting and clawing at eachother.

With a lurid snap the man cracked the beast's neck, earning an agonizing wail from the mean cat. He staggered before slamming his fist on the animal, forcing the last breaths out of the beast.

His nose flared, proudly, while his hands slammed his chest.

Terror was still taking a hold of you, and there was nothing you could use as a weapon. Your hands braced your shoulder as you tried to carefully stand, but your clumsy feet stepped in a branch, snapping it in half, like the jaguar's neck. Brown eyes were immediately on you.

You swallowed hard.

He approached, hunched and prowling over, his knuckles and toes supported his hulking frame.

"S-Stop!"

He quirked an eyebrow, curious and within seconds he was before you.

Breath hitched on your throat, face so close to yours, he could feel your breath blowing on his chin.

You hissed as he took a hold of your arm, examining the damage. There wasn't rage in his features but nothing more than untampered curiosity.

His hands reached for your hair, sniffing the strands, you couldn't help but giggle when his nose hovered over your head, sniffing you, a bad moment to be ticklish, really.

Breath caught again as his nose nuzzled your neck.

"W-Wai-" His fingers prodded at your lips, rubbing the calloused thumbs on your soft mouth. A satisfied grunt rumbled in his firm and hairy chest

He toyed with your face, examining it with child like wonder. He turned, prodded and licked your cheeks, reminiscing in your taste with a confused look.

"U-uh, sir-"

What is he doing? oh god.

He hunched even closer to rest his ear on your chest. Heart pumping violently inside your ribcage, eyes darted towards the covered mounds, he sank his face in between them, taking a deep inhale. A low growl came from within and your cheeks flared in a deep flush.

Oh shit, shit

His hands cupped your mounds, sending a shiver through your body, but you slapped his hand away. He looked taken aback before baring his teeth to you.

"No!" You covered your chest and backed away, but his nose flared to then grab your head and placed it on his chest a tad forcefully. Warm and plush skin met yours. You gulped again.

Powerful echoes boomed through his chest.

The natural musk of him tickled your senses, his hands roamed your lower back and your alarms flared.

"H-hey, hey!"

He pulled your feet up, sending you tumbling backward, skirt rolling down your thighs, exposing your legs to him.

You tried to cover your skin by gathering your skirt up. His nose again sniffled as your wriggled underneath him. Hands prodding and picking at your toes, earning a clumsy giggle

His touch was like molten lava, it sent a shudder down your spine.

His fingers were having a good feel of your flesh, as if confirming you were real.

With each discovery his interest only grew. He then cupped your face again, smooshing your cheeks together, giving a deliberate lick on your lips.

"T-The polite thing to do is to take me out before that happens!" You mumbled nervously while trying to get yourself free.

His eyes narrowed once more as he lifted up your skirt completely, revealing your panties.

It gave you little to no time to prepare you for his next move. He sunk his face in between your thighs taking a good whiff of your scent, another pleasant growl came from him, by reflex, your hand slapped him. And this made him look at you, confused but clearly upset while holding his cheek.

"No! Stop it!" You warned while gathering your skirt underneath your knees and pointing at him. Cheeks impossibly red

He seemed to understand as he crouched before you. Muscular thighs flexing as he sat, mimicking your actions.

"Uh, uh. No. Don't do that"

"Uh Uh, No. Don't do that"

He repeated with the same authoritarian tone. Voice surprisingly rich and alluring. Your eyes went wide.

"You can speak!"

He repeated like a parrot.

"Can... Can you understand me?"

His brows furrowed then quirked. He was about to come up with a reply when the rustling and your name being called echoed behind the foliage.

"Over here!!!" You shouted, this alarmed the man as he stood, backing up from you with a mistrustful glare.

"Wait! No no! Don't go!" Your hands wriggled, but it was futile.

He left before anyone could see him. Climbing the trees like it was another playground game, until he disappeared out of sight.

None other than Kraven showed up, machete on hand, swinging it the weeds and plants that dared to cross his way.

A shit eating smirk plastered on his face.

"See? I told you, she'd be fine." Kraven patted Peter's shoulder as they kept moving to find a perfect spot for the camp.

Kraven crouched to where the jaguar's body laid and looked at you.

"What happened?"

"I... don't know. I-I panicked. Was running from a snake and I found that there."

Sergei just hummed, as he watched the body, eyes raking the feline's carcass before beckoning two of his men closer.

"Skin him. Don't have this type yet."

Kraven took a deep inhale. Death's stench sparking alive the hunter in him.

"Whatever killed it, needs to be in my personal collection of trophies."

Peter in the meantime cleansed your wounds with water, to then apply some clean bandages on them.

The whole group moved, upwards to the mountains.

"What the heck happened!?" he whispered aggressively

You made sure for Kraven to be within a reasonable distance to speak again.

"You won't believe me if I'd tell you."

Cause in truth, how would you explain a man, taller than Sergei, killed with his bare hands a wild animal and got way too touchy with you but is able to speak?

The road was long. You had time

Peter sensed your discomfort and pressed no further. However, the feeling of being watched never waned. It was the group, against the jungle's secrets.

----

Taglist:

@fayeofthenightingale

[redstarwriting]

the clash | v. ever fallen in love

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 3.1k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, mentions of death, demonic names, mentions of injuries, giving and receiving stitches, geniuses being dumbasses

a/n: these keep getting longer LMAO which is wild too bc i literally had an idea to make this chapter even longer, but i had to end up splitting it up. thank you to everyone who’s reading the series, i appreciate you all more than you will ever know. please enjoy this chapter, the next should be out either late tonight or tomorrow :)

previous chapter: iv. london calling

now reading: v. ever fallen in love

next chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

───────────────────────────────────

It’s been a few months since you’ve become a part of Spider Society, and much to everyone’s disappointment, you and Hobie still hate each other. Even though on any given day the two of you will be seen around each other, you’re always arguing. Yelling. There have been multiple times where the two of you almost fought, but someone always breaks it up before it gets to that point. “Ready to go, Hobie?” Gwen asks, and he scoffs. “Can’t believe ‘m bein’ forced to go to that dickhead’s world by you of all people,” he grumbles, and she rolls her eyes. “C’mon man, we all know that you’ve both been way more irritable towards everyone because you haven’t seen each other in what? Like two days?”

“I’ll be a lot worse when I see them, I can promise ya that, mate,” he snaps and Miles shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever, Hobie,” he says as Gwen pulls up the portal to your world. “Are you excited to see them? I haven’t seen you two apart for this long ever, you’re always together,” Pavitr says, side-eying Hobie. He keeps trying to tell Gwen and Miles the two of you only hate each other because you have strong feelings for one another and don’t know how to face them.

“I’m telling you, they’re obsessed with each other,” Pavitr says as he, Gwen, and Miles sit in his home, sipping some chai. “Obsessed with wanting to kill each other maybe, but that’s about it,” Miles says, and Pavitr groans. “No! You’ve got it all wrong! Neither of them knows how to express their feelings and that’s the only reason they act the way they do!” he tries to convince them, but Gwen and Miles just glance at each other. “I don’t know, Pav,” Gwen says. “I picked up on the romantic tension between the two of you immediately, why are you doubting my genius social cue reading now?”

“You need to stop being such a romantic, Pav. The two of them would rather eat glass than be romantically involved in any way,” Gwen responded, but Pavitr was not convinced.

He still isn’t. Hobie laughs. “Excited? You must be mental to think I’d be chuffed to see them,” he responds, and Pavitr sighs. One day. One day he will get Hobie to admit he cares for you.

Gwen was honestly a little nervous for this little meet-up. The two of you had a really bad fight recently, and trying to get the two of you back to talking level seems a little ambitious.

“You what?” he yelled, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m being mentored by Miguel.” Hobie stares at you, not saying anything, with his mouth slightly open before he shakes his head. He’s very angry, but you simply don’t care. “He’s helping me, Hobie. We both have the venomous bite thing, so he’s trying to help me out with it and helping me adjust to–”

“Don’t you dare say adjust to fuckin’ Spider Society like I ain’t been here the whole time.”

“You never necessarily helped, Hobie. Unless you count constantly insulting me and–”

“Nah, don’t gimme that fuckin’ rubbish, (Y/n),” he growls, and you cross your arms. “Why are you so mad about it anyway?” He laughs. “Why am I mad? Seriously?! You’re the right fuckin’ hand of the pitch and toss!”

“The what?” you ask and he groans. “The fuckin’ boss, (Y/n)! The man!”

“So what, Hobart?! In case you forgot you’re a part of this society, you listen to Miguel too!”

“I fuckin’ don’t!”

“You fucking do!” By this point, you’d pulled attention from several other spiders, not only because of the yelling but because their senses were going off. The two of you were too focused on each other to realize they were all ready to pounce on the two of you. “Fuckin’ piss off before I do somethin’ we both regret,” he growls, and you laugh. “Make me.”

The two of you were separated after that and haven’t talked to each other since. Granted, it’s only been two days, but that is long for the two of you, honestly. And it’s been making everyone a target of Hobie’s rude remarks and your cynicism. The two of you need to talk because clearly, not talking just makes the two of you feel worse.

Even though Hobie’s acting like this is the worst thing his friends could possibly do to him, he does kind of sort of miss you. Which he hates. It’s been two days and he’s already missing you? Disgusting. He can’t wait to yell at you about it. He’s able to keep his cool and pretend like he really doesn’t want to go, but in reality, he’s so anxious to see you. “Alright, come on,” Gwen says, motioning for Hobie to enter the portal. He glances around at them. “Makin’ me go first?”

“Can’t have you run off at the last minute,” Gwen says and he sighs. “Whatever,” he says, walking a little too fast into the portal. He only stops when he’s enveloped in a familiar darkness. He feels something brush up against his leg, and he lets go of a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “Good seein’ ya, Shadow,” he says, bending down to give your cat some attention. Shadow headbutts him and he scratches between his ears. Your cat loves Hobie, much to your disdain.

“You hurt him, I kill you,” you said to him the second time he was at your place. He picked up Shadow while you were in your room, and when you came out and saw him holding your baby, you were ready to fight. But you were ready to fight him at any given moment anyways. “I won’t hurt him. He’s much cooler than his owner anyways,” Hobie says, petting his head. You roll your eyes. “Yeah well– wait is he purring?” you say, and Hobie smirks at you. “Looks like he likes me better than his owner too.”

“Shut the fuck up. Shadow!” you call your cat, your voice going from a tone that screams ‘I hate you’ to one that screams ‘I love you.’ Of course, Shadow’s ears perk up and he hops out of Hobie’s arms and right over to yours. You stick your tongue out at Hobie, who rolls his eyes and looks away to cover up the dusting of a smile on his face. “What are you, 12?” he asks, and you scoff. “Can I hold Shadow?” Pavitr asks, and you hand him to him without a second thought. But no matter who you passed him to, he’d either end up in yours or Hobie’s lap.

He's so lost in the memory that he doesn’t even sense you approaching. “So, you decided to actually show up. I’m surprised,” he hears your voice and looks up at you. “Wasn’t exactly by choice, love. If I had it my way, I’d never be in this hellhole again,” he retorts, and you just shake your head and say nothing. That’s strange. You thought for sure you would mention something about him being forced to do something even though he always does what he wants. “What? Have you lost your spitfire after only two days of not talkin’ to me?” he asks, standing. You sigh. “I just… I don’t have the energy to fight today, Hobie. Okay?”

Don’t have the energy? You literally always have the energy to fight with him. Before he can say anything else, Pavitr comes through the portal.

“(Y/n)! How have you been?” he asks, excitedly, hugging you. Hobie doesn’t like that. But what he doesn’t like even more is the slight look of pain that spreads across your face for a split second. He observes silently as you play it off like nothing happened, and Pavitr is none the wiser to it. Gwen and Miles enter shortly after, and the dynamic you all had before yours and Hobie’s attempted murder of each other returns. Except for the constant bickering between you and Hobie. Instead, it’s just a lot of silent glaring, and subtle reactions. “Okay, hold on. What the hell is this?” Miles asks, and you both look at him. “What?” you say at the same time, ending in a side eye to each other. “That! That right there, why aren’t you two threatening to tear each other’s heads off because you said the same thing?” Miles asks, and Hobie shrugs. “I got nothin’ to say to them.”

“Ditto,” you say, and the three of them look at you two like your heads just got cut off. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m havin’ a laugh, mate?” Hobie snaps at Miles and he puts his hands up in surrender. “This… is odd. I can’t recall the last time it was quiet between you two.”

“Because it never was. They always went for each other’s throats like their own lives depended on it,” Pavitr says to Gwen, and you clear your throat. “We’re right here, you know,” you say with a forced grin. “Yeah, care to save the talkin’ bout us til we aren’t around?” Hobie grumbles and the three glance at each other before nodding. “Sorry, you two…” Gwen says, and you shrug. “It’s whatever. Dealt with worse,” you say, and Hobie nods. He glances over at you again. How is no one else noticing how weird you’re acting? Is he the only one who pays attention to you or some shit?

This isn’t the first time he’s picked up on your odd behaviors. Within the time he knew you, he was able to notice your behaviors unlike anyone else.

He wasn’t necessarily looking for you. He’d never go out of his way to look for you in a million years, yet here he was. In your world because you didn’t show up at the allotted time everyone was gonna meet up at in his world. He webbed up to the tallest building, the Ember Stake Building. It resembled that of a wooden stake, except all black and metal instead of wood. Sure enough, you were there. “You’re late.”

You turn and look at him, but don’t say anything. Instead, you just turn away. He frowns. “What’s that all about, then?” he asks, plopping next to you. You sigh. “I think I’m just gonna stay here tonight.”

“What? Why? Because you’re too borin’ to do anythin’ fun? Gotta work late tonight?”

“No. Personal reasons,” you say and he cocks his head to the side. “Such as?”

“Fuck off, Hobie. I’m not telling you.”

“Yes, you are. What’s goin’ on in that empty head of yours?” he asks and you give him an unamused look. “It’s the anniversary of my Uncle Belial’s death,” you mumble. He frowns. “Ah. I see.”

“...Yeah.” The two of you sit in silence, the wind the only noise happening before he sighs. “Well then, you’re definitely comin’ tonight.” He stands. You look at him. “I just said-”

“And I don’t give a shit. Come on, your friends are waitin’ for you. Besides, they can help ya get your mind off of it. Chop-chop.” You ended up going because you were forced to. But you did have a good time. Hobie was right, it helped you get your mind off of things. And maybe you were reading into it, but he seemed just a tad bit nicer to you that night than normal.

And you could tell his. 

“And what the hell is your problem today?” you appear behind Hobie who is angrily restringing his guitar in his common room at Spider Society. “Well now you’re a part of it,” he responds. You sit on the floor across from him. “As much as I’m happy just my presence can reduce you to a massive asshole, I don’t think I’m the only reason this time.”

“How could you even tell?”

You shrug. “You busy your mind and hands when you’ve got something on your mind,” you say, and he looks at you. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Didn’t realize you were obsessed with me.”

“You wish,” you say. He sighs. “New group of fascist assholes showed up today,” he begrudgingly opens up and you nod. “Told you so.” He glares at you. “Had to say it,” you say, “But you’ll beat them. You always do.” He glances at you. “And if you can’t, I’ll just take care of it for you.” He laughs, unamused. “I’d like to see you try.”

He’s unsure why so many memories are flooding back to him at this moment in time. The answer is that he’s obsessed with you and Pavitr is right, but we don’t need to talk about that until he realizes it for himself. Maybe not seeing you has made him think about you more for some reason. He shakes his head, rejoining the conversation. Everything goes surprisingly well for the rest of the time you all are together. Unfortunately, Gwen gets a notice that something is happening in her world, and she has to go. Miles follows, and Pavitr is torn between going with them or staying with the two of you to make sure no one gets murdered. Or to see some romantic shit.

“We been behavin’, haven’t we?” Hobie says, a bit relieved they were leaving so he could find out what was up with you. You were close with the others, but even they’ve commented on you two only opening up with each other. “You actually have… and maybe it’d be good to leave them alone. Talk out whatever issues they’re having,” Miles says to Pavitr and Gwen, who look at each other but reluctantly agree. Miles and Pav rush into Gwen’s world before her. “I swear if you two kill each other I’m going to kill both of you,” Gwen says, walking backward into the portal to her world and pointing at the two of you. “We won’t.”

“Probably,” Hobie finishes, and Gwen rolls her eyes before disappearing. There’s a silent tension between the two of you before he speaks up. “What happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re–”

“Don’t play dumb with me, now. What happened?” he pushes, and you frown at him. Shadow leaps up into your lap and nuzzles you. You sigh and gently pet him. Hobie stays silent, watching and waiting. “Just… bad day,” you mumble. “Bad day, how?”

“Bad spider day.” He hums. “That why you looked like Pav stabbed ya after that hug?” You look at him, surprised. “You saw that?”

“Course I did. ‘m not fuckin’ daft,” he responds, and you look at Shadow. “Yeah… it’s nothing, though. Just a few scratches, typical Spider-Person shit,” you say, and he nods. “Let me see, then.”

“What?”

“Let me see.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re lyin’,” he shrugs, and you glare at him. “Have I told you I hated you?”

“Not recently, but yeah.” You glare at him but sigh. “Fuck you, Hobie,” you mumble, but shrug off your oversized cardigan. His eyes widen as he sees deep lacerations and bruises spread across your shoulder and onto your back. He stands up and approaches you without even realizing it. You watch him as he studies your injuries. “Who did this?” His voice sounds darker than you’ve ever heard it. You look away from him. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he responds immediately. You turn your head to look at him again, only to have him staring directly into your eyes. “Prowler,” you mumble, and he frowns. “The worst of the worst in your world,” he whispers to himself, recalling a conversation the two of you had months ago. He glances around. “Where’s your first aid kit?” he asks, and you look at him with a side-eye. “Why?”

“Cause I wanna get high off the painkillers in it, why do you think, you dolt?” he snaps, and you point to your bathroom. “Under the sink.” He gets up and walks into your bathroom, grabs the first aid kit, and walks back out to you on your couch. “Turn round and move a bit,” he says, and you do. He sits behind you, starting to clean and stitch to your injuries up. You wince slightly and he frowns. “Why haven’t you done this yet?”

“I can’t reach back there myself.”

“Then ask someone else to do it.”

“I don’t have anyone to ask anymore.”

“Yes, you do,” he says without missing a beat. You turn your head to say something snarky to him, but he looks at you at the same time. Your faces are closer than the two of you expected, causing you both to quickly look away. You can feel your face burning, and you’re grateful the injuries are mainly on your back and not close to your heart because you don’t want to hear his comments about how fast it’s beating. On an equal note, Hobie’s happy you aren’t looking at him because he has his jaw clenched and swallows hard. His heart is beating just as fast, but he pretends like it’s nothing, just like you. He finishes the stitches, placing bandages over top of them. “Done,” he says, and you mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as he tosses the first aid kit onto your coffee table. “Should be healed by tomorrow,” you mumble, and he nods. “When did that happen?”

“A few hours before you all got here,” you admit, and he frowns. “And you were just gonna pretend nothing happened?”

“Yes. I told you earlier, I’m too tired to deal with any bullshit today, okay?” you confess, and he frowns.

“He get ya that good cause you’re tired?”

“I guess.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

“Dunno.”

“Stop lyin’ love,” he says, and the nickname you hate oh so much sounds just a little sweeter to you than it should. “Couple days ago.”

“You haven’t slept in two days?” You shake your head, and he sighs. “Go the fuck to sleep. Now.”

“But–”

“Go,” he demands, pointing to your bedroom. You groan, “You’re so fucking annoying,” you mumble, getting up and dragging yourself to your room. “Yeah, yeah whatever,” he says, following you. You flop onto your bed as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Come to tuck me in?”

“You wish,” he watches as Shadow hops up onto your bed, curling up against you. You immediately put your hand on him and pet him. Hobie frowns as he feels a pang of annoyance toward your cat. “Gonna stand there and watch me sleep or something?” your voice pulls him out of his ridiculous thoughts, and he scoffs. “Gonna stand here and make sure you don’t try to get up as soon as I go,” he says, and you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, rolling away from him. He stands there until he’s sure you’re asleep. He glances at Shadow, who is still awake and staring at him. He puts his finger to his lips to say “shh” as he pulls his mask over his head.

He and the Prowler of this world need to have a bit of a chat.

───────────────────────────────

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[nasuverse-most-breedable-tourney]

Round 6 (Grand Finals) *Clash of Casters*

On the left: Considered to be the child and reincarnation of the Sky God, Horus. The mage pharaoh who briefly ruled over ancient Egypt during the 6th Dynasty whose mirror is claimed to reflect the netherworld. She drowned all the people in power who murdered her beloved siblings, and after achieving her revenge, she committed suicide. Nitocris

On the right: An almighty genius who lived between 15th and 16th century Europe. One of the many geniuses who left a mark in human history by forever influencing the development of civilization. An Italian polymath of the High Renaissance who was active as a painter, draughtsman, engineer, scientist, theorist, sculptor, and architect while also producing detailed notes and drawings on anatomy, astronomy, botany, cartography, and paleontology. "Gender and age mean nothing in front of a true genius!". Principles and trends will change but there's only one indisputable fact: in any form, Da Vinci is universally invincible!

[ruan566]

Anyone ever think of how opposite Dazai and Chuuya are?

Dazai a human who doesn't feel like one, someone who feels like a demon.

Chuuya a lab made person who wishes to be human. Chuuya is a loyal, passionate and actually nice person if you look past the whole mafia's weapon. He doesn't kill needlessly neither did he actually have a choice with what he could have done with his life.

Dazai is in the mafia due to his own choice, trying to understand life because he doesn't understand why other people want to live. And this is why Dazai is soo fixated on Chuuya, for Dazai Chuuya is the most humane person he's ever seen. Why not Odasaku?

Simple being human doesn't mean being kind or good it simply means being. A person who's expressive and whose emotions are clear that sort of person is called humane. Odasaku on the other hand is the kindest person Dazai has ever met (after Atsushi maybe but then again Atsushi didn't have to go through all that that many others have had to go through even with all the abuse he suffered)

Dazai wants to understand humanity and for that he tries to understand Chuuya. He is trying to see life from Chuuya's eyes rather than his own. (Which is fucked up....but what can we do?)

His whole "I want to see Chuuya suffer like a human" proves my point even further.

Another thing to be noted about Chuuya is that he's not just a pretty boy. From Asagiri's interviews we know that both Dazai and Chuuya are geniuses. And Chuuya hid the fact that he's arahabaki's vessel from DAZAI OSAMU of all people.

Coming back to differences, even their abilities are so polar opposite in a sense, Chuuya's is the most strongest ability with its sheer destructive power, Dazai's is to cancel other people's abilities with physical contact.

Even the works of both the authors are different, Upon the Tainted Sorrow and No Longer Human (which roughly translates to disqualified from being human or failed at being human)

While no longer human has a numb tone to it, showing the "inhumane" nature of the book, for the tainted sorrow is about the losses of life.

Even the way both of them are designed is polar opposite, Chuuya is someone you'd say is exotic looking for his features: red hair, blue eyes are more of a European traits and then his..... height

While Dazai is your total Japanese or average Asian person with brown hair and brown eyes (a very pretty Asian dude to be sure).

And yet despite all their differences they work together seamlessly almost like a limb working with the rest of the body.

It's as the author states two bodies one soul. As while Chuuya and Dazai are opposites but not in a clashing way. It's like if you put them side by side they seem like a complete picture. Not destroying the harmony of the other but rather coexisting while bringing out the sides in the other that no one can.

[anndramarama]

Dihua fic recipe. Suitable for beginner and experienced cooks.

Add Li Lianhua's fear of intimacy and Di Feisheng's lack of boundaries to a medium saucepan with a generous tablespoon of the self-loathing/anger/guilt felt by both parties regarding 1) their past failures and 2) the helplessness brought on by corruption and betrayal within their martial organizations.

Whisk aggressively.

Keep in mind that both ingredients are touch-starved martial geniuses who struggled to tell the difference between sexual attraction and the impulse to fight nearly to the death.

As orphans whose education was incomplete or completely lacking, you might assert that these ingredients should not be served together at the same banquet, let alone combined in such a way, but be patient and trust the recipe even if it's hard at the start.

Di Feisheng in particular will constantly assert that he wants to be "on top" and not know what that means or why it makes Li Xiangyi's eyes flash and cheeks turn pink before he fights him harder, ever harder.

Li Xiangyi will be baffled when their relationship doesn't seem to change no matter how many brain-breaking orgasms he wrings out of the other man, or how many kisses are shared, and will arrange several more negotiations and secret meetings than strictly necessary to try to establish the ultimate, final, total, and most all-encompassing peace the jianghu has ever seen.

But don't worry: Li Xiangyi's bafflement and Di Feisheng's trauma-induced cluelessness are complementary flavors that will only add spice to the dish.

When you get to the point where you're tired of stirring it will still be almost impossible to keep them from separating in the pan, so don't even try. In fact it is essential to the recipe that their essences separate and come together continually in a clash of swords, an exchange of looks, and other forms of rough, suggestive touching.

(Give up on plot at this point. You don't need that, it's expensive, and hardly anyone will notice. You can throw in some implausible machinations by side characters later if you're concerned.)

Next, add two cups of salted water and bring to a roaring boil. Reduce heat, cover, and let simmer for ten years.

Ignore any sounds of anguish that escape the pan. This is a necessary step that lets them work things out, if only mentally and in the form of heated, yearning nightmares (Li Xiangyi) and repetitive, dissociative hallucinations that for anyone else would be indistinguishable from pining (Di Feisheng).

Finally, uncover and get ready to plate.

At this point both ingredients' idealism, which could barely be detected as a standalone flavor to begin with, should assert itself and almost dazzle the senses, if only briefly. As they slowly re-enter the world together that synchronicity will bring with it a renewed appreciation for life, for gentleness and roughness as appropriate, for tantalizing secrets and lies, and extra time for boning behind closed doors. They will feel young together, and then they will feel middle-aged; Di Feisheng will let himself feel real emotions and, watching him both in and out of bed, Li Xiangyi -- now Li Lianhua -- will wish he had more time.

Add a dash of Fang Duobing at the end, but keep in mind that he isn't just there for garnish: when introduced in the right amounts Fang Duobing can add to the flavor and complexity of the dish, particularly by improving its general sweetness and, for the two main ingredients, he adds an extra note of innocence tempered by regret, sacrifice, and love.

Serve with wedding wine, in secret, under a crescent moon on a day that no one else knows is auspicious.

[infiniteeight8]

Saw in a reblog that you enjoy prompts and are still accepting them. I'm not sure if this is your cup of tea, but how about an alternate first meeting? No ideas for alternate first meetings? Have some extra tone ideas, fully optional, mix/match/discard to your tastes:

Extra idea one: At least one of them is a superhero. Maybe both are and one is trying to hide it due to hidden magic or secret identity AU.

Extra idea two: They're both pompous idiots geniuses think they're geniuses who don't get along immediately. Clashing egos.

Extra idea three: One or both are in some state of injury. If paired with two, people who don't get along during their first meeting while in a perilous situation is delicious and never an old trope.

Take any or nothing, no worries if nothing sparks. Best wishes!

This AU is comics inspired, but only in the sense of the set up where Tony Stark is the Avengers’ benefactor and no one knows that he’s Iron Man. Otherwise, it’s MCU in my brain.

-

The best thing about Avengers galas was that Tony didn't have to go to them as ‘Tony Stark’. Iron Man got eager questions about battles instead of subtle angling for funding. Iron Man got admiration instead of digs at his personal history. He couldn’t drink with the faceplate down, but he didn’t need to drink to get through these things with the armor on. 

All of which made it enormously frustrating when the neurosurgeon he was currently chatting with—Doctor Strange, a hard name to forget—visibly deflated when he learned ‘Tony Stark’ wouldn’t be making an appearance. If Iron Man started having to field funding requests, Tony was going to scream. “I’ve never seen someone so disappointed to meet the hero instead of the money man,” he said.

Strange shot him a withering look. “You know damn well that Stark is a lot more than the money man, and your eagerness to frame him that way does you no favors.”

Shit, had he slipped? What did Strange know? “Stark funds the Avengers,” Tony said. “What else would you call him?”

“More of a hero than any of you,” Strange says, waving a hand to indicate the other Avengers. “Sure, he funds the Avengers. He also funds the new superhuman rehabilitation wing at the prison. And the foundation that helps neighborhoods rebuild after battles. He wrote software that responds to supervillain attack alerts and quarantines the user’s devices to prevent data loss and he gave it away for free.” Strange glanced over the heroes attending the gala and snorted. “Any one of the Avengers falls, they’ll be replaced by a new recruit in a week,” he said. “There’s no replacing Tony Stark.”

Tony could only stare as Strange turned and walked away.

No one had ever called Tony Stark a hero before.

[thatshakespeareanfool]

I really wish the Harry Potter books were more for adult audience because from the things I find the most fascinating we get so little.

I would love to read more about the political system, how the wizengemot works in practice in daily basis or the clashed between the inherited and elected seat owners.

We know so little of the purebloods lifestyle except that it's more similar to what we may call english victorian aristocraticy. Also so many fans forget that while blood purity is important to most of the families, classism is very much there as well. Pureblood or not there are many families at the bottom of the food chain purely based on the fact that they don't rotate the money or political scene.

The allure of the Black family was always their own supposed self importance and ten generations of traditions were for me. I don't want to see Narcissa running around in muggle attire in fanfic because that ice queen who kills you with her gaze and elegant silence would never do that. Her imagine is just as much her weapon as her wand.

I wish we have gotten more of Dumbledore's and Voldemort's political chess play. Rather than only obscure notes from the first wizarding war. I want to believe that these two people are important to their followers not because the book said so but because they are indeed strategic geniuses.

I want to see the light and dark side blurred into grey, certainly more than "good" and "bad" people. I don't the author to tell me whom should I judge just write them as humans, someone being a blood purist doesn't mean they are rotten 24/7 they can have families, hobbies just as someone who doesn't believe in blood purity can be a nasty price of work in other parts of their lives. I want to see the consequences of war on both sides, because there are no winners in wars only survivors.

[incorrectbatfam]

no bond is stronger than the one between a batkid and his corresponding speedster

Literally, there's a speedster to compliment every bat

Dick and Wally have the classic brolationship—they have their own partners but that won't stop them from sleeping in the same bed, ordering one milkshake, or sharing custody of Zitka. They have the comfort of knowing that in every life, they have each other. Plus, Babs and Linda already have their bredding (bro wedding) planned out.

Hear me out: Jason's speedster is Owen Mercer. Owen, who's the second Captain Boomerang with short bursts of speed, can act as both the hero and the villain in different narratives. Unlike his predecessor, his alignment shifts to suit his needs but he's more good than bad, which makes him a prime Outlaw candidate. Also Jason wants to set the record for most redheads collected.

Tim has Bart. A lot of fan portrayals have Bart as tertiary to Tim and Kon (it's even a point of contention in canon). However, I think of Bart's mentality as the antithesis to Tim's. Tim mulls over strategy while Bart chooses to act first. They both have a stubborn righteousness, but Tim is jaded with experience compared to Bart, who maintains a youthful sense of optimism and ambition. They're both geniuses, but Bart is far more in touch with emotions and can call out when something isn't right in a relationship.

Damian has Wallace II. Canonically, they butt heads before coming to the realization they have to team up. Rather than being the opposite, I think Wallace's defiant attitude mirrors Damian's. They've both been let down by the adults in their lives and prefer to take things into their own hands. They both have childish egos that have been subdued over time, which can be both a common ground and a clashing point that keeps their relationship interesting.

I was initially gonna pair Jesse with Babs, but I think there's more growth potential with Steph. They're fast learners who aren't afraid to let themselves feel, and sometimes they're in over their heads. Jesse feels like a future snapshot of Steph. I can see Jesse showing Steph how to channel her passion and energy not just in being hero, but also becoming a better version of herself.

Duke and Cass share Avery. Compared to Duke, Cass and Avery have been around more. I can picture them taking him around the world on new adventures and teaching him tricks that Bruce wouldn't have. Avery switches between places pretty often, which makes her a reliable point of contact outside of Gotham. Also I wanna see Duke and Avery combine their powers.

Babs and Danica are the "let people underestimate us because of our disabilities" duo. While Babs is on the home front as Oracle, Danica is the speedster no one expects because her inhaler throws off all suspicions about her identity. While Danica doesn't quite fit with the Birds of Prey, she still makes a valuable ally.

Thaddeus possesses a cynicism akin to Cullen Row, although Thad is more unhinged. I can see them connecting over their resentment and without anyone to keep them in check, that can be dangerous. However, Harper is more grounded and draws clear moral boundaries, so she acts as a counterbalance that turns a destructive relationship into a productive one.

Jess and Carrie's nonbinary asses would definitely get along. They both have fun personalities and creative ways to navigate situations where not many tools are provided. They can be loud and attention grabbing when they want, but they also know the advantages of being in the background.

Kate and Max are similar in that they're mentors, but they're also not. They're the ones who step in when the usual mentor figures (Bruce and Barry) fall short. They have a distant exterior but provide lots of love and support once someone gets through to them, and they're not afraid to call out their counterparts.

Alfred and Jay have plenty of experience under their belts and don't let their age keep them from the action. It's abundantly clear that they care about their families, and it hurts when they can't protect them from everything. Jay has a more American Grandpa sense of humor while Alfred has the dry British wit, so together they're unstoppable.

John Fox barely shows up in the comics, but when he does he's doing what he thinks is best only to land in trouble. Selina would relate to the messy history and moral ambiguity where actions don't match intentions. They also both have a knack for disguises and can exchange tips.

Bruce has Barry, obviously. Their relationship is similar to Tim and Bart's. Bruce definitely lets the grimdarkness seep into how he sees the world, whereas Barry can step back and look at things from an objective lens. Not everything need a complicated plans with a thousand contingencies, so Barry is like the common sense/Occam's Razor. Plus, we all love how he and the team mess with Bruce—it's what Bruce needs.

[chicohungers24-7]

Explodes you with my mind

(650~ words about exploding motherships and being in pain)

Nine's vision swam with heady energy as he turned towards the mothership that blotted out the Grim's skies. His methodical anger now blazed into animalistic rage at the sight of it in his path, smoking cannons still aimed at where Grim Big once stood.

He was getting tired of this.

An ugly, pained yowl involuntarily tore from his throat as his tails drew in the exhilarating power of the Paradox Prism. He knew eyes had been drawn towards him by the cry but he paid them no mind. Energy buzzed throughout his body, rattling his bones, frying his nerves, tails spasming and curling as they strained to diffuse the power up his spine-

They had shocked him.

His mind would go blank and tails slack as the one hundred and fifty thousand volts shorted out both his thoughts and myoelectric sensors embedded deep into his central nervous system.

A weapon of that caliber could disarm anyone.

Two would be aimed at his head at all times.

Shaky growls rumbled in his chest as he rose through the air, twin tails holding him steady despite it all.

The burnt fur smell that accompanied the shocks would snap him out of his momentary stupor and the pain gave him something to latch onto. Some 'geniuses' those doctors were. Trying to use the brain they were intent on frying.

Burning energy pooled in his abdomen and Nine winced, holding steel claws over what felt like his body burning a hole in itself. He convulsed and let out another strangled cry.

For a moment the power cooled. Sonic's words pierced the ringing in his ears but he couldn't understand any of them. Something nagged in the back of his mind. Nine greedily gulped in air as his dazed mind struggled to catch up with what was happening. The Grim was trying to tell him something. Feverishly glancing around, Nine stared at the flickering dome he worked so hard to upkeep. Between each flicker he could see the tears across the shatterverse. They would swallow the Grim whole.

The Council had used him.

Of course they had. Nine's technical prowess rivaled their own. But hehad let his guard down. Letting them get their hairless paws onto the Shatterdrive had been a terrible mistake. This was all their fault. Even when they were using him for their own gain, they wouldn't listen. He could've fixed all of this by now.

But Sonic had led them here.

Worked with them.

What a fool.

Fangs chattering against each other, Nine redirected all the energy back towards his tails. He curled in on himself as the painful yet comforting strength of the Prism drained from his limbs.

Nine had to rebuild the Grim and that was not going to happen with the Chaos Council in his way. Sonic would come to him eventually, he knew of it. But the Council was betting on that as well. Once Sonic is out of the picture everyone will fall apart and they'll snatch the Prism for themselves.

But Nine wasn't going to let that happen. While the pounding in his head waned, he reined in his frenzied rage. An unfocused blast could wipe out everyone, including himself, in one fell swoop. With icy restraint that clashed against the jittering tendons in his hands he narrowed the scope of the energy, eyes flitting up to stare down the Mothership. It would just be Mr. Dr. Eggman in there.

The one who started all of this.

His grasp on the energy slipped, explosive pain tore through his spine as the energy shot from his tails with a deafening boom. Nine watched with a mix of horror and amazement as the beam struck the Mothership. All of that had been inside of him? The explosion that followed sent a wave of giddiness.

That was all short lived as exhaustion crashed over him. He fell back onto the tower, trembling tails falling to his side even as white hot energy still gathered at the tips. Searing agony scrambled his head and his breathing turned into ragged growls.

This power was going to tear him apart.

[ohsalome]

Here is famous jewish-russian poet Iosyf Brodsky reading poem dedicated to Ukrainian proclaimation of independence (translated by Artem Serebrennikov, but without his commentary).

Brodsky is considered one of the geniuses of modern russian poetry. He has a number of awards (including the Nobel Prize), and he had to flee from the Soviet Union due to the fear of state presecution. So, you know, a classic russian liberal.

Dear Charles XII, the Poltava battle*

Has been fortunately lost. To quote Lenin’s burring rattle,

“Time will show you Kuzka’s mother”*, ruins along the waste,

Bones of post-mortem bliss with a Ukrainian aftertaste.

It’s not the green flag, eaten by the isotope*,

It’s the yellow-and-blue flying over Konotop*,

Made out of canvas – must be a gift from Toronto* –

Alas, it bears no cross, but the Khokhly* don’t want to.

Oh, rushnyks* and roubles*, sunflowers in summer season!

We Katsapy* have no right to charge them with treason.

With icons and vodka, for seventy years we’ve bungled,

In our Ryazan we’ve lived like Tarzan in the jungle.

We’ll tell them, filling the pause with a loud “your mom”:

Away with you, Khokhly, and may your journey be calm!

Wear your zhupans*, or uniforms, which is even better,

Go to all four points of the compass and all the four letters.

It’s over now. Now hurry back to your huts

To be gang-banged by Krauts and Polacks right in your guts.

It’s been fun hanging together from the same gallows loop,

But when you’re alone, you can eat all that sweet beetroot soup.

Good riddance, Khokhly, it’s over for better or worse,

I’ll go spit in the Dnieper, perhaps it’ll flow in reverse,

Like a proud bullet train looking at us askance,

Stuffed with leathery seats and ages-old grievance.

Don’t speak ill of us. Your bread and wheat we don’t need,

Nor your sky, may we all choke on sunflower seed.

No need for bad blood or gestures of fury ham-fisted,

Seems that our love is up, if it at all existed.

Why should we plow our broken roots with our verbs?

You were born out of earth, its podzolic soils and its herbs.

Quit flexing your rights and laying all the blame on us,

It is your bloody soil that has become your onus.

Oh, gardens and grasslands and steppes, varenyks filled with honey!

We’ve had greater losses before, lost more people than money.

We’ll get by somehow. And if you want teary eyes –

Wait ‘til next time, guys, this provision no longer applies.

God rest ye merry Cossacks, hetmans*, and gulag guards!

But mark: when it’s your turn to be dragged to graveyards,

You’ll whisper and wheeze, your deathbed mattress a-pushing,

Not Shevchenko’s* bullshit but poetry lines from Pushkin*.

For decades the conossieurs of russian culture has defended Brodsky and denied his authorship of the poem, until this video popped up in 2015. Oh but not russians tho, they don't deny it. They're proud of it! This particular translation I've found on an english website dedicated to popularisation of russian culture :) And of course it had a xenophobic comment expressing support of Brodsky and hatered towards ukrarinians ^)

So yeah, I think we have more than enough reasons to say that any person who claims that russian invasion of Ukraine came out of nowhere and/or that it was not motivated by xenophobia and imerialism towards ukrainians, is full of bullshit.

[context/references explained under the cut, buckle up for a long lecture]

Poltava battle was one of decisive clashes between Sweden and Russia during the Great Northern War. Initially Ukraine was fighting this war on the side of the russian empire as its vassal, but before the Poltava battle we switched sides. There were several reasons for this choice, among the most important - russian emperor breaking the treaty between the Hetmanate and Muscowy. Important context - the head of then ukrainian state, Ivan Mazepa, was very close to russian emperor - you could say, he was his father figure. Mazepa educated tzar Peter in European manner and helped him start the europeisation of the Muscowy. russians see this battle as a huge personal betrayal (the fact that Peter I betrated Mazepa first is always omitted, in russian culture, unlike ukrainian, the person higher than you on hierarchy doesn't owe you shit but has absoulte power over you). That was 300 years ago and russians are still salty about it. and Mazepa is probably the second most hated ukrainian historical figure after Bandera.

"Show you Kuzka's mother" - a phrase meaning "show them hell", famously used by the ussr general secretary Michael Khrushchev adressed to american politicians in 1959.

"Eaten by isotope" - reference to the Chornobyl nuclear disaster.

Konotop - a small city in Northern Ukraine, famous for the Konotop battle that happened between cossacks and muscowytes in 1659. In the modern russo-ukrainian war it became famous for witches that curse russian soldiers with erectile dysfunction. Interestingly enough, a "Konotop witch" has been a phenomena even before that, as refered in a short story of the same name by Hryhorii Kvitka-Osnovianenko, thus giving even more substance to the threat.

Toronto - canadian city, probably mentioned here due to the fact that many Ukrainians flead from the ussr to Canada, thus creating one of the biggest ukrainian diasporas in the world. Canadian ukrainians are known for being very politically active, publishing ukrainian literature at times when it was impossible to do so at home, and fighting soviet propaganda. As a result, Kremlin began a smear campaign painting all canadian ukrainians as nazis, which is effective till this day.

Khokhly - a common slur used against ukrainian. Most probably comes from old slavonic "xoxolъ" that means "bangs" and refers to the hairstyle typically worn by ukrainian men, that russians found funny.

Rushnyks - an embroidered decorative towel, used in home decor and some rituals [examples]

Roubles - russian currency.

Katsapy - common slur used against russians. They will want you to believe that the word comes from phrase "как цап" - "like a goat" and refers to the type of beard worn by russian men at old time, but this is purposeful misleading from the true origin of the word. Katsap comes from arabic "qassab", which means literally "butcher". A legend states that this comes from a single incedent when russian army, after promising to spare a city's residents if they surrendered peacefully, cut down every single person there. But different sources attribute this to different battles (some of which verifyably did not end with the city surrendering), so I don't think this can be bottled down to a single event.

Zhupans - a type of outer clothing popular in Ukraine and Poland [example, another example] Funny trivia - Word of Darkness tabletop universe used this word to describe a subtype of vampires from Eastern Europe, which is incredibly funny for me. Gimme mysterious british vampire warlocks called pullovers.

Hetmans - a military and political head-of-state in some medieval and Renaissance Eastern European countires, including Ukraine (known as Hetmanate back then).

Taras Shevchenko - perhaps the most influential ukrainian poet, artist, ethnografist and political figure, the metaphorical spiritual father of the country. His influence on the modern ukrainian culture is incomparable - half the things in Ukraine are named after him. He is also among the people who have the biggest number of monuments erected in the world - 1384. Taras Shevchenko's life story is extremely dramatic and deserves its own post - born in slavery, bought out of it thanks to his unique artistic talent, imprisoned for criticism of russian monarchy with an explicit ban on writing and painting, spent the second half of his life in exile. He wrote a lot about freedom and things we would call today anticolonialism and antiimperialism.

Alexander Pushkin - one of the "founding fathers" of russian literature, who is attributed with setting the standard of literary russian language. russians call him "our everything", but as far as I am aware he is hardly known outside the countries smeared by russian imperialism with the exception of some black classic literature fans due to being 1/4 black.

[meowcats734]

[Soulmage] Wanderlust is Earth

Content warning: thoughts of self-harm/suicide.

"Bad news," Sansen said.

I cracked an eye open—I hadn't quite managed to slip into a nap, but I was close enough to be cranky about the interruption. "You're not going to do the whole 'good news, bad news, which do you want to hear first' routine?"

"I'm an oracle. I've lived through this twice already. It's purely performative on my part." From behind him, Lucet giggled. I got up and erected a brief bubble of darkness, put on my binder, and then terminated the spell of fear. Being a novice witch in eleven different schools still didn't put me on par with a real witch like Sansen, but we'd all been trying to hone any skill that could help us survive, and that included casting spells and improving our techniques whenever possible.

Plus, I liked having privacy when I changed.

"So what's the bad news?" I asked.

"Well, we think we found out why there's a whole bunch of Demons of Fear hanging out in the sky," Sansen said. "We've done some observation, and there've been some aerial clashes between Demons of Fear and Angels of Arrogance. Odds are, we're not the first people to think of using soulspace entities for reconnaissance, and what we've been seeing is the Order and the Peaks brawling for control over surveillance from above."

"Yeah, I didn't think we were military geniuses either. But wait, if you observed the conflict directly..."

Sansen grinned. "Yeah, Lucet and Meloai managed to train the Demon of Joy while you were asleep, and I can look into a future where we kill it for its memories and gather all the information it would have held without having to actually kill it every time we want to know what it saw."

I exhaled, a weight lifting from my soul. "We needed a win," I said.

Lucet turned away from our little scout—a butterfly of light that fluttered towards a flower Meloai held—and gave me a gentle smile. "We did, didn't we?"

"Speaking of wins and losses," Sansen said, "the Order of Valhalla and the Peaks fought to a standstill at a nearby lake. We... there wasn't any sign of Jiaola, but if we can get closer and dig through the memory fragments..."

"You want to rummage around in an active battlefield?" I asked.

"Both sides retreated, and if we move fast, they might still be regrouping by the time we get there. Plus, there's another factor at play. From what the butterfly—"

"I'm naming him Misiel," Meloai interrupted.

"From what Misiel saw," Sansen corrected himself, "the aftermath of the battle looked... extensive. Someone tore open a massive rift into the Plane of Elemental Cold, and I wouldn't be surprised if there were more rifts hidden beneath that massive cloud of mist."

"So we think we're safe, because the battlefield's too deadly for either army to want to enter," I summarized.

"We don't have to go into the heart of that mess," Sansen said. "We just have to get in far enough that we can find a couple soul fragments, and get out. With a competent oracle, two combat witches, and a mimic, we should at the very least be able to run from any major soulspace entities before they kill us."

"Great, thanks, very reassuring." I rubbed my forehead. "What do you all think?"

"None of us would've made it out of the Silent Peaks without Sansen," Lucet said, squeezing my arm. "And... I never met Jiaola, but... he's your friend, Cienne. This is the clearest shot at finding him that we've had so far. I say we take it."

"Family's hard to come by," Meloai added, giving me a reassuring nod. "I'm not looking forward to finding out what kinds of things are going to crawl out of those rifts, but... it's worth the risk."

I swallowed heavily, feeling a familiar constriction in my throat, and some sticky, sharp part of my soul wished I'd never asked.

Lucet and Meloai were willing to throw their lives on the line for someone they'd never even met.

But I? I was scared. I was a fucking coward. I was a horrible person. They would be better off if I just disappeared one day and never came back.

I took in a deep breath, letting the familiar voices wash over me.

Then I forced my way past it, the way I'd painstakingly learned how, and said, "Alright. Let's do this."

###

The cloud cover got thicker and thicker as we approached what was left of Feardust Lake. I'd never actually been to this part of the Redlands—for most of my childhood, the area was considered uninhabitable thanks to the last clash between the Redlands and the Peaks—but it didn't seem all that different from any other section of the plains I called home. Endless waves of flowing grass? Check. Majestic open sky that felt like it could swallow you whole? Check. Rifts into other dimensions that spewed monsters and elemental destruction? You betcha.

The rift itself was hidden beneath the shroud of condensation and frost it had generated, but even from this distance, it was obvious that it was one hell of a thing. I'd be surprised if I lived to see it fade. The signature tactic of Fell witches—sowing sorrow on the battlefield and reaping it all at once to tear massive rifts in the sky—had survived for centuries, and judging by how far away the Silent Peaks had made their camp from the enormous rift, the Peaks had learned to respect it.

"Was this... a victory for the Order?" Meloai asked.

I shrugged. "No clue. If you want to go up to their camps and ask, I'm sure both sides will have their version of the story where they won."

"Hey," Lucet said, frowning. "Do you guys... Cienne. Do you... is something... wrong with sorrow right now?"

I tensed, looking at Sansen, but he shook his head—nothing imminently threatening. "From a scale of elf-Iola to eldritch-Iola, how wrong are we talking here?"

"I'm... just try casting a spell with sorrow," Lucet said. "A... a small one. Small as you can make it."

"Uh. Okay." Salt-crystal sorrow grew in abundance along the inner edge of my soul; I willed a fraction of it to chip off, then tossed it from my soul into realspace—

The frostbolt skittered a good foot before stopping, leaving a trail of swirling condensation in its path.

Even Sansen seemed surprised as the four of us stared at it.

"That is not what that spell was supposed to do," I finally said, just as Sansen's expression returned to normal. Oh, was that what had caused Sansen to be surprised? Gah, stupid oracles, reacting to my sentences before they're spoken.

"Huh." Lucet's soul stirred. "So if I try to cast a normal frostbolt, then—"

"NO!" Sansen grabbed her arm, startling Lucet, and she yelped, spinning around. "No. Just... no. We all die if you try to use a full-powered frost spell."

A chill went down my spine. "I... I don't suppose any of you have ever tried using magic near a rift this large before?"

I got three shaken heads in response.

"Maybe... maybe we should stay away from frost magic, for now. Until we're away from that ridiculously-sized rift," I said.

Lucet flinched, and I kicked myself—there was probably a way to say that that didn't render Lucet useless for the time being. But before I could open my mouth, she put on a smile and said, "Yeah. It's alright. Just until after."

Then she turned and strode towards the city-sized rift in the distance. 

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I felt those familiar thorny vines grow around my throat, but I forged through it. Now was not the time to let my emotions get the better of me.

The consequences of what would happen if I did loomed large on the horizon, a sorrow so deep and vast it had torn two armies apart.

###

"Found one," Meloai shouted. There was thunder periodically crashing from somewhere deeper in the wrecked grasslands, and the constant crash of hail wasn't helping the noise problem either. 

"What plane?" Lucet asked. 

"No clue. But he died recently—the body's still warm."

I shuddered. "Eurgh. I know your interaction with humanity has been limited to Lady Tanryn for the first two decades of your life, but for future reference, humans generally don't like poking other humans' corpses."

"I... I know. I'm sorry. I just... thought I could help." Meloai's crestfallen expression made me want to fucking stab myself, but... I could keep the voices at bay for just a little longer. Until we got to a place where I felt absolutely safe sharing the secret of attunement with Lucet and Meloai and Sansen, and then I'd be redundant and they wouldn't need me anymore and I could just fall into a dream and vanish—

"Shame," Sansen said. "It's a memory of shame."

Oh, great. "Does opening a rift into the Plane of Elemental Transparency kill us all?"

Sansen shook his head. "Not in the immediate future."

Well, 'not killing myself in the immediate future' was good enough. I'd take it. I drew glass shards of shame from my soul and cut the skin of reality, my skin momentarily shining like glass as I reached between worlds—

And I was no longer the husk of self-hatred that I'd grown into over the weeks since we'd fled the Peaks. Or worse, that I'd always been.

I was Fein, soldier under the Silent Peaks, and I had a promise to keep.

###

I could ignore the pounding hail, I could tune out the screams of dying soldiers, I could ignore the distant flashes of artillery bombardments so long as that burning compulsion stayed at the front of my mind.

I had a promise to keep, and nothing would stand in my way until it was fulfilled.

"Soldier!" The black-and-white regalia of my commanding officer stood out like a skeleton in a closet as I dashed through the battlefield. The chaos that led up to the war had been a tumultuous landslide of impossible promises and contradictory demands, but somehow, we still found enough energy to wind up the old war machines. "You're breaking position."

I met the staunch commander's gaze and evenly said, "I have a promise to keep."

The commander's gaze softened as he searched my soul. "...I understand. We're retreating under artillery cover; you'll be surrounded and bombarded by your own forces."

I knew. But some things superseded simple matters like being turned to drifting bits of gas by an artillery strike.

"Where did the Second Battlechoir fall?" I asked.

"By the southern shore of the lake," the commander said, pointing off into the distance. The miasma of mist and hail made it difficult to see, but I'd seen the maps and fought here before. I would find my way.

"It's been a pleasure to serve," I lied, and dashed out into the hellishly cold warzone.

I had a promise to keep, but that promise said nothing about telling the truth. Quite the opposite, in fact.

I was lucky enough not to stumble on any enemy soldiers as I waded through the mire of corpses and ice that marked the Battle of Promiseshard. The distant, disturbingly silent columns of light that marked where artillery strikes were wiping random spots from existence was probably why—nobody was stupid enough to charge through a field under constant bombardment.

Unless they had a promise to keep.

The steady jog was over less than half a mile, but through a muddy, torn-up battlefield, it may as well have been a sprint to the moon and back. Progress was slow, and I nearly got burned to a crisp twice, but it was worth it.

Thirty minutes of painstaking slogging later, I reached the place where the Second Battlechoir had been surrounded and broken.

Broken—but if I was to have any hope of living with myself after this, not destroyed.

I hurried to the ruined encampment, dust and frozen blood slipping beneath my feet, and called out, "Emi? Emi, are you there?"

In response, I heard a weak exhalation, nearly lost in the tumult of the battle, weak as a newborn kitten.

I rushed over to a collapsed wooden barricade and tried heaving the logs aside—but they were simply too heavy. "Emi? Emi, are you under there? Please, I can get you out, just tell me you're—"

"Fein," Emi whispered, and I saw her dark eyes glittering from under the logs. "Its okay."

My stomach dropped. "Wh—of course you're going to be okay. I—I told you you were going to come back from the war just fine, eh? Just... gotta put my back into it..."

"Stop," Emi said, and she reached out through a crack in the slots. "I'm... it's okay. I don't have much time left. Just... spend it with me. Please."

I clenched my fists. "No. No, Emi, don't talk like that. I promised. I promised you that you'd be okay." I felt something deep, deep in my soul begin to ache, as if my very being was tearing itself apart, and I stood. "If—if I can get enough leverage, or—or if I can find some more survivors to help—"

"I can't feel my legs, Fein." Emi coughed, and I hated how wet and red and lethal it was. "Just... be with me until the end, Fein. Can you do that for me?"

I swallowed.

Then I closed my eyes, placed my hand over hers, and I could pretend that the blood was nothing but rain.

"I promise, Emi. I promise."

And I spent the rest of my life letting one promise live so another could die, until the light faded from Emi's eyes.

###

"Cienne. Cienne. Cienne!"

Lucet was shaking me, but I barely felt it. I was just... so damn tired. How many more times would I have to die and die and die again, reliving the memories of better people than I? Hell, even the fucking crow was better at not casually hurting everyone around her. 

"I can't," I whispered.

Lucet stilled. "I'm—can you speak up, Cienne? I can't hear you."

I was worthless. All those people who'd died before me, all those glorious souls who outshone the entirety of my being with a fragment of their life, they had died for something. They had gone out with meaning.

Perhaps that was it. If there was one thing I could make myself good for, it was taking that hit, over and over again, until Jiaola was safe and I was no longer needed.

"I didn't see Jiaola," I managed to say, clearing my throat. "Sorry. The memory disoriented me." I plastered a smile on my face and stood up. "Let's... let's find another soul fragment, shall we?" Better people than me traded worried glances, but before they could speak, I left.

I turned my back, trodding deeper into the darkness and the frost, the souls of the fallen dispersing like blood in rain.

A.N.

Soulmage is a serial written in response to writing prompts. Stick around for more episodes, or join my Discord to chat about it!

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[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

I’m gonna do some fic recs today! Let’s goooo!

What Remains After the Storm, Complete, 86k, rated M by @hushed-chorus

This fic completely sucked me in and transported me to another world. Simon is a goatherd in a small seaside town who finds a nearly drowned man he rescues, only to find out it’s someone important from his past who also happens to be under a Fae curse that has turned him into a merman. The author weaves incredible lore, lush descriptions of harsh but beautiful settings and a meticulous plot that will blow you away. Plus! This fic is accompanied by a staggering amount of gorgeous art by @erzbethluna that compliments the story in such a delightful way. (Seriously, these two are geniuses.)

Swords into Plowshares, Complete, 6.5k, rated T by @ileadacharmedlife

I don’t often click on fics with the crack tag, but if they’re anything like this fic then I am thoroughly missing out! It’s a simple premise. Baz feels jealous that Simon is spending so much time with his new Excalibur sword. This silly yet sexy fic had me cackling with glee at nearly every turn. Come for the sword innuendos and stay for Baz’s paranoia clashing with Simon’s enthusiasm.

A Gift From the Propheseals, Complete, ~7k, rated E by @skeedelvee

Simon is sent on a mission to ask the propheseals to grant him visions to help with defeating the Humdrum and instead is gifted with visions of a future with Baz that is very different than what Simon would expect from his nemesis. This fic is tender, sexy and sweet and is accompanied with fantastic art by @letraspal that really adds a dreamlike quality to Simon’s visions. This premise is so creative and at just under 7k you will devour it quickly and be left with a warm feeling in your chest.

The Sexual Education of Simon Snow, Complete, ~15k, rated E by @eelwinks (LakeWitch on AO3)

Watford-era, Agatha wants to have sex so Simon sets off on a journey of educating himself on the intricacies of the act, with the help of his dread companion, and to the consternation of his roommate. I know, I know, this is an older fic, but some of us are slow readers and take a while to get to things. If you’re like me and you missed this one (or have been meaning to get to it) you should go for it. Of course the sexual tension between Simon and Baz is delicious but also I thoroughly enjoyed Penny bravely trying to teach her friend about sex with nearly zero boundaries.

Personal Best [Link to the Podfic version] Complete, 36min, rated T, written by @scone-lover and read by @petrodobreva

Man, there are some fabulous podfics in this fandom, and if you haven’t checked any out yet, this is a great one to start with. This Normal AU features Simon and Baz as rivals on the same swim team and does a beautiful job showing the progression of Simon’s admiration, frustration and feelings of inadequacy morphing into attraction and want. And @petrodobreva adds a rich layer of brilliant characterization, coupled with lovely voices/accents and extra touches of sound effects and music. Plus, if you like this one, she has a couple of other CO podfics that are done with equally superb levels of production.

And We Still Do, Complete, 8k, rated T by @facewithoutheart

Another one that came out months ago that I missed! This fic is really like 5+1 mini-fics, imagining Simon and Baz meeting in various different AUs. Each one is a mini world the author crafts beautifully in a short time, pulling you in and making you feel as if you’ve read 20k in each of them. My particular fave was Simon and Baz meeting at 5 years old, but honestly, they are all fantastic. Do yourself a favor and immerse yourself in each of these worlds. You won’t regret it.

That’s it from me for now! I’ve read other great fics but I’ll save them for another time. Thank you to everyone who continues to tag me btw! I love reading your stuff and hopefully I’ll have words of my own to share soon.

[fumifooms]

Thistle rarepairs

As start of my “Dunmeshi rarepairs I will birth with my own hands if I have to” series

I’ve been reading dunmeshi enjoying everyone’s dynamics with everyone and multishipping a bit in my head for optimal serotonin but… I think I’ve settled on some ships I particularly enjoy, and of COURSE I’m alone in them. They’d be so interesting to have fics about them, sob… Which, on that topic, how the HELL are there so little Dungeon Meshi fics?!!!  I’ll make a post for every ship but I’mma start by bundling the Thistle ones together, if ya wanna see my other ones just browse the dungeon meshi tag on my blog.   I kinda ship marcille with everyone, ship thistle with everyone, Laios with a lotta people… But I eventually had to find my niche, my otp, and… some stuck out of the lot. FICTIONAL MENTALLY ILL JERKS ARE INTERESTING I’M SORRY

Thistle x Falin

The biggest part is that I think it’d be interesting for Thistle to have one actual ally and person who cares for him, and find that in the tool he dismisses. He never really seemed to understand that an extra soul got mixed into the dragon, somehow. It’d be interesting to see him gradually understand it was more than a form change, then realizing that means he actually has someone in his corner, as a supportive presence. He’s been alone for how long again? Falin is a ray of sunshine, and that’s what Thistle needs I think. Actual and heartfelt companionship. The dragon is forcibly devoted to him, but it’s Falin who extends extra care and attentions. We’ve seen esp with Thistle summoning the bunch of dragons that even monsters who have to listen to the dungeon lord still retain individuality and a certain degree of free will.

But look looook Falin is the thing that allowed Thistle to calm down and think things through, she grounds him.

Look at her lil nod at the end, she doesn’t dislike him <3 (Even tho the other dragons he summoned def found him annoying at the very least so it’s not a forced devotion mind control issue)

Thistle and Falin, sitting on a web, o-b-s-e-s-s-i-n-g!

Pathetic meow meow x ultimate cinnamon roll basically. A cinnamon roll that will turn to bloody murder only for him, and is kinda aware and okay with that?? I can’t wait to see how Falin will react to Thistle when she’s revived in the last chapters… There’s a parallel here to be found as well, Falin is fully devoted to Thistle, like how Thistle is fully devoted to Derghal. Falin’s biggest goal is to protect the people she loves, like Thistle with his family. They have some interesting subtle similarities…

AND. Also they are both natural born magical geniuses. Falin was ostracized for it while Thistle was lifted up for it though, but yes they were both treated differently for it and it affected them, also gaining a sense of responsibility due to it as well.

Marcille x Thistle

It’d be interesting, I had thoughts about it with them battling it out for dungeon lord title and being both mage elves with personalities clashing… And then he “died” holding her hand so hah! That’s a win in my books.

Yes so it has interesting potential due to a few things. Dungeon master x person desperate to study dungeons, the hand holding just as he died (She just happened to be the closest to him when he was dying, but I still think that speaks of potential future dynamics they could have had. The last thing he did was reach out for help and companionship. He mocked her for being a half-elf, and yet his last wish and hope is entrusted to her), the whole elf mage thing they have matching which means they share an area of study aka interests and conversation topics, but most of all it’s the tragic narrative of it y’know. I think in another universe, if Thistle had allowed Marcille a conversation as she had requested, she could have positively influenced him. If Marcille pacified him and they spoke- oh I have no doubt she’d piss him off which could be a fun dynamic in non life-threatening scenarios lol, but he could answer her questions about dungeons, pertaining to her goals and dreams, and I think he’d gain a smart and capable companion along the way. Someone that would truly understand him and be able to intellectually ground him and argue it out to find the best solution. As a dungeon master, I think he would be maybe the best placed to make her rethink through her dream and dungeon plans as well, if she starts seeing him not as a fully insane guy (which means she thinks she would fare better as a dungeon lord than him), but an individual influenced by the Power. Like the manga pointed out early on, Marcille may be great at theoretics, but practice is ultimately the most important thing, and experience as a dungeon master is what Thistle has, exemplified with how he created an ecosystem that worked with the layers unlike Marcille who immediately disturbed everything.  They both just want to live peacefully and forever with their loved ones </3 yeah I think they’d understand each other better than anyone else. It’s very interesting to note that Thistle was an elf in a kingdom of humans/tallmen, who had seen generations of the royal family as seen through the paintings. Losing people was his greatest fear, like it is hers. Elf otherized for being an adopted elf in a kingdom of tallmen projecting his want of belonging onto her by thinking she wants to be a full half-elf… She just wanted to talk 😔 She isn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit, y’know what good.

… Marcille x Falin x Thistle polycule You know, it’d be fun if Izutsumi interacted with Thistle as well, they’d duel to the death fr. I just want more Thistle content ok…

[nasuverse-most-breedable-tourney]

Side B, Round 5 (Semifinals) *Clash of Casters*

On the left: An almighty genius who lived between 15th and 16th century Europe. One of the many geniuses who left a mark in human history by forever influencing the development of civilization. An Italian polymath of the High Renaissance who was active as a painter, draughtsman, engineer, scientist, theorist, sculptor, and architect while also producing detailed notes and drawings on anatomy, astronomy, botany, cartography, and paleontology. "Gender and age mean nothing in front of a true genius!". Principles and trends will change but there's only one indisputable fact: in any form, Da Vinci is universally invincible!

On the right: A Buddhist master who lived during the 7th century Tang Dynasty. In search of the Original Buddhist Scripture, she set out on the Silk Road, traveling from Central Asia to India. At the end, she brought 657 scriptures back to Tang and founded the East Asian Yogācāra sect of Buddhism. Also a major character from the Chinese novel "Journey to the West". Buddha's most specialist girl. A caster also able to perform incredible physical violence. She is Xuanzang Sanzang

[ezralva]

Post canon JJK (the setting is the one from my long fic so Gojo, Geto, Higuruma, Megumi came back to life). Gojo is the ruling force, the executive hand within the jujutsu society while Higuruma is the counterpart, the advisor, bridging the sorcerers with non-sorcerers and the head of the legal department of Jujutsu. Basically every decision made within the society has to go through to him first and agreed by him cz he's widely acknowledged as having the sound and sanest head above his shoulders. Also that he's fair to everyone (justice is blind bla bla bla)

The two geniuses of JJK with clashing personality now become the head of the elders. Somehow they get along fine.