#Mist System Fire Protection

[https-bobreynolds]

enter the sun and the spell

pairing: robert ‘bob’ reynolds/sentry x enchantress! reader

summary: wouldn’t be a part of a superhero team without dramatic, grand entrances.

author’s note: AAAAAAAA I ABSOLUTELY LOVE ACTION SEQUENCE FICS!!! let me know if i should do more of it🥺

everything’s chaos.

ava is down, shorting out and twitching. alexei is half-buried under a collapsed steel beam, protecting yelena beneath him. walker shielding himself with the last flicker of his strength, teeth grit.

red light flashes from every direction. sirens screaming. drones whirring overhead. and in the center of it all, a towering mech-god hybrid bristling with stark-grade weaponry, absorbing every hit like it’s nothing.

“we could use a little help here.” bucky growls into comms, ducking behind a crumbling pillar as plasma sears past.

another blast hits. the concrete buckles.

he mutters, “where the hell are-“

THUNDER.

not from the sky but from the air itself. like the world just inhaled.

crack. the clouds ripple apart.

light splits open the sky like a curtain tearing in reverse, golden, searing, white-hot, as a figure descends from the clouds at terminal velocity.

THE SENTRY.

glowing like a second sun. a comet wrapped in fire.

his landing impact cracks the street, sends shockwaves through the block. cars rattle. the mech stumbles. dust spirals. a sonic boom follows an instant later, late, like the world needed a second to catch up.

from the rubble, yelena groans, shielding her eyes.

walker mutters, “show-off.”

bob sentry lifts his head, eyes blazing pure energy. “heard you guys were in trouble.”

ava starts, “and where the hell’s-“

green lightning splits the ground.

it starts as a low hum, a spell igniting in the marrow of the world. runes spiral across cracked pavement in a circle, glowing from beneath.

the mech rears back, some internal system detecting something wrong, before you rise from the glowing runic seal like mist made solid.

cloak fluttering. eyes lit green-gold. hair lifted in wind that isn’t there.

your boots hit the ground with a light click.

you lift a single hand.

a chain of burning sigils erupts from your palm, wrapping around the mech’s limbs mid-strike, not restraining, but binding, with magic that whines like a violin at its limit. arcane energy threads through the metal plating like vines through stone.

the thing roars.

you cock your head slightly.

“shh,” you murmur. “the adults are talking.”

with a twist of your wrist, the bindings explode, taking both arms with them.

yelena stares. “okay, how did she just…”

“she’s channeling her,” sentry murmurs, stepping forward beside you. “just a fraction of her power.”

“yeah, well,” bucky pants, “someone better tell the bad guy it’s just a fraction, cause-“

before he finishes, you leap.

a golden platform blooms under your foot midair, you vault off it, conjure another beneath you, dancing across sigils in midair as you rain enchanted fire down from your palms. green bolts crash into the mech’s core. you flip backward through burning smoke and land beside sentry.

the mech lurches, failing.

sentry floats up again, his voice low, “you wanna finish it?”

you nod, breathless. “together?”

he offers you his hand.

magic coils around your forearm as you take it. his energy glows hot and gold.

and in one perfect motion, you and sentry lift into the sky like a rising myth, and on his count…

“now.”

he hurls you like a spell itself.

you’re a streak of emerald fire across the sky, spinning, brimming with wrath and elegance, before slamming down into the mech’s core, carving a runed spear from your palm midair and driving it straight through.

impact.

time slows.

the mech goes still, then detonates inward in a rush of imploding magic and machine.

silence.

the dust clears.

the rest of the thunderbolts* stagger to their feet.

you’re standing in the crater, one hand extended, panting, glowing. your eyes slowly dim. the runes fade. the storm calms.

and then, “still a show-off.” walker calls, brushing dust off his jacket.

you smirk as sentry lands beside you. “wouldn’t be me if i wasn’t.”

he glances at you, smiling. “you okay?”

you nod. “i didn’t burn out. not this time.”

his hand brushes yours, a moment, subtle.

“good,” he says, quietly. “i like seeing you light up the sky.”

you don’t say anything back. but your fingers curl into his just enough.

the others gather, limping, groaning, swearing.

and from the wreckage, the team walks off slowly, war-torn, victorious.

part two

tag list:

@lovetoalll

[demonic0angel]

Dead silent in the dragon au? I'm a sucker for them and I do like dragons

(Sure :D)

Part 4...?

Cassandra observed the lair of the Ghost King, a powerful dragon who was said to have an undiscoverable lair and a hoard full of mysterious treasures. In reality, while it had been hard to find, it was rather ordinary. She had seen bigger. Her own sire and guardian had a lair that was based entirely on an underground cave system and he had riches that had knights and lords from various kingdoms and countries coming to kill him every week.

The Ghost King’s lair was still impressive, just not what she had expected from the various rumors she heard. The lair was modestly sized and on the bigger side, and located inside of an abandoned human castle. The hoard itself was a collection of strange objects that she could not decipher.

Perhaps human object lovers like Jason, who collected books, and Damian, who had only just started to collect swords, would know.

Cassandra was a little confused by this collection, but the Ghost King’s scent was pleasing and some of the things he had were sparkly, so she wasn’t too ready to leave yet.

She perked up at the sound of growls and fire breathing. She flapped her little wings and climbed onto the ceiling with her claws. Quickly scurrying outside, she watched wide eyed as a beautiful white dragon was digging his teeth into a beefy yellow dragon. The white dragon was on the smaller side, leaner, but he had sharp fangs and claws and they were able to tear into the flesh of the other dragon easily.

The other dragon blew fire and wailed, but the white dragon pulled back to breathe out ice and trap it before digging back in, blood spurting and dripping from mortal wounds.

Cassandra watched in awe as the dragon flapped his wings for extra strength. Said wings were large and wide, colored white with black at the tips.

Most amazingly, they were feathered wings. The rest of the dragon’s body was scaled, but those feathered wings rose high and mighty, like clouds and mist.

The white dragon roared and then in one vicious move, bit down on the neck of the other dragon, reared his head back up, and then tossed it to the side, where the yellow dragon whimpered and then flew away with a flap. The white dragon bristled, snarling, before wiping away the blood on his snout.

Cassandra shivered at the raw strength of this dragon before she gave a low purr and crawled back inside, where she dropped from the ceiling and then began scenting the strange hoard. She was determined to meet this dragon for herself.

The Ghost King came back inside his lair, pausing as he registered her scent before he cautiously approached. When he saw her, he froze in place for a long time before he spoke.

“Hello. I am Danny, youngest son of the Nightingales.” He gave a bow, discreetly trying to rub off more of the blood on his pearly scales. His two pairs of eyes blinked at her, green and bright like emeralds.m

Cassandra gave a bow. “I am Cassandra, oldest daughter of the Waynes. What is your hoard made of?”

Danny, the Ghost King, crept towards her and said, “It’s my collection of astrology items. Human made things that let you see the stars.” He paused in front of her. “I love the stars. These things help me see and study them.”

Cassandra gave a turn, eying the hoard in a new light. “Fascinating. I’ve seen many hoards, yours are one of the most different.”

“… you like it?” He asked, tail wagging.

She nodded.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, tail wagging even more.

Cassandra paused. She had never been called beautiful by another dragon before. Her black scales looked muddy and they were freckled and scarred. She was not slender like other dragons, because she was a fighter, not a flier.

For a moment, she was extremely self conscious in front of this beautiful, white dragon who was King and powerful and interesting and gentle.

“I… I know that I am not the ideal mate, but I can protect our nest. I’m the best fighter in my family,” Cassandra said.

Danny leaned down and then nuzzled her. “You’re beautiful. No one has approached my lair or hoard before and stayed. Your scars are comets and your scales look like a starry night. I’m strong, but I hate fighting. With you, then maybe….”

Cassandra purred and rubbed against his chest, their scales making sparks together.

Danny returned the rumbling purr and then asked, “May I formally court you?”

She chirped happily. “You may.”

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[balloonthehutt]

what he was trained to do · A.S

summary: you're marrying someone else. Anakin has to live with that.

warnings: angst, one-sided love, arranged marriage.

a/n: I'm not sure if it's any good but I tried. as always thank you for reading ♥️

The galaxy spun on, uncaring. Planets turned; stars were born and died without notice. And somewhere between those infinite fires, Anakin Skywalker stood — silent, unbreathing — as you smiled for another man.

He was your shadow, your sworn protector. The Jedi Temple had assigned him, all steely discipline and quiet promises. A political match had been struck for you, fragile as spun glass, and Anakin was there to ensure nothing shattered before the vows were spoken.

He hadn’t meant to love you.

Not you, with your voice like summer wind, your laugh like stardust.

Not you, who turned to him for safety and never saw the way his hands trembled when they brushed your skin.

You didn’t know.

You couldn’t know.

The palace gardens gleamed with ceremony tonight, awash in blue light and harp strings. You wore white, the color of surrender. Your dress floated about you like a mist, embroidered with the ancient sigils of your people, stitched by hands that had decided your fate long before you were old enough to speak against it.

Anakin stood by the pillars, faceless in the dark. His robes, heavy with dust and the ache of restraint, hid the burning man beneath. His saber hung at his belt — but even that brilliant weapon could not cut the chain that bound him.

He watched.

He watched you offer your hand to a man who could never love you the way he did — because no one could.

He watched you smile the way you had once smiled at him after a night patrol under silver moons, when you had plucked a flower and tucked it behind his ear, teasing, unaware that his heart had already broken beneath the joke.

His chest ached with a terrible beauty: the kind of pain that poets tried to trap in paper cages and never quite could.

You turned your head for one fleeting instant, your eyes searching the crowd — and they found him.

Just him.

Your gaze lingered.

The world blurred: the laughter, the applause, the cold glint of politics. It all slipped away until there was only the distance between you and Anakin — a distance more vast and cruel than all the parsecs in the Outer Rim.

And then — then — you smiled.

Not the painted smile for your suitor.

Not the dutiful smile for your people.

No — this was small, secret, broken.

A smile meant only for him.

Anakin closed his eyes. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, leather creaking.

A Jedi knows no attachment. A Jedi knows no love.

But he loved you with a force that could level empires, tear apart solar systems, and leave even the stars themselves weeping in its wake.

"Knight Skywalker," someone murmured near him — a courtier, perfumed and bored — but Anakin did not move.

He could not.

When he opened his eyes again, you were gone — swallowed by ceremony, by duty, by a future that had no place for dreamers or broken boys with too much lightning in their blood.

Still he stood there.

Still he watched.

Still he loved.

And in the end, Anakin Skywalker did what he had been trained to do:

He protected you.

Even from himself.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 99)

She pulls herself out of the console feeling dazed, N has his tail wrapped around her, and the scorching heat of his flamethrowers filled the room as the ground itself rumbled around them.

The ground had been disturbed…

Tendrils of black surrounded them on all sides, inching closer despite N's best efforts. On his visor was displayed an ‘X', a gradient of red and yellow as he protected Uzi with his life.

Uzi yanked out the linking cable, stuffing it back into her pocket and allowed a feral hiss to claw out her throat. Using the solver, she manipulated a sharp peice of metal to spin rapidly, chopping up whatever it came into contact with into tiny black peices.

N and Uzi were back to back, tails coiled around each other to ensure their other half was still there. She grabbed onto his shoulder.

“Fly!” She shouted, a command that registered instantly in N's system and had him taking off before she could even finish the word. Ignoring the ceiling, he burst through it. Throwing dust, snow, and shards of concrete flying in every direction as he rocketed upwards, a flood of angry tentacles followed him up, climbing and squirming on top of each other to see which of them could reach him first.

Uzi grunted, feeling her body strain as she threw the spinning metal down, slicing up the pursuing appendages even as they continued to reach for them.

N growled as he aimed an arm downward, firing off a missile that finished them off- by turning them to mist. He covered Uzi's mouth and clamped his own shut just in case.

There was no time to rejoice however, the ground groaned and shifted, opening up to swallow the building they were just in as well as the rest of the communication dishes.

As N watched, he noticed yellow light deep within the planet, shifting in waves, arching with primal energy, filling the flesh surrounding it with a hunger that couldn't be satisfied- and a deep, untamed rage.

They looked at each other, trying to find comfort as the sinkhole continued to grow, new, blackened appendages were spat out to replace the one's they'd just destroyed.

“L-Lets get out of here…” Uzi said after a prolonged period of silence, well after the last of the building was lost underneath the hungering flesh.

N nodded, tucking her into his shoulder before taking off in the direction of the bunker.

Deep down below, something watched them…

The sun was coming up quickly, and despite how fast N was flying, he knew they weren't going to make it to the nest in time, much less the bunker.

He dove into some long forgotten apartment, just in time for the early and deadly light of the morning to break over the horizon.

His arms remained looped around his girlfriend as the snow melted off both their frames, panting from the stress of the day.

“Did you get what we needed?” He asked after a moment of recovery, looking into purple eyelights, still refusing to let her go just yet.

“Yeah, I mean, it's not the best choice… probably gonna have issues with wildlife but… it's what we got.” She replied, leaning into the warmth he gave off in contrast to the freezing atmosphere around them.

“It'll have to do. I'm just glad you got something.”

He finally let her go, allowing them both to look around the room they'd taken shelter in.

Everything was covered in dust, and sharp shards of glass covered the floor from where the windows had shattered. There was a full sized bed in the center of the room- well made and completely untouched by anything other then the forces of nature.

A wooden chair, a closet, and a two bedside tables also inhabited the room, though the light and subsequent fan on the ceiling had long ceased functioning.

“Guess we're spending the night here…” Uzi sighed, rubbing a hand over her distended stomach- mostly because the rubber had become thin and slightly painful and she was trying to soothe it.

N's hand hovered over her own as he held her from behind, resting his chin on her head and swaying them softly.

“Really the time to do this after we just got chased?”

“Perfect time to do it. We're safe now, and we have to relax.”

“You have to relax" He amended, wrapping his tail around her and nuzzling into her shoulder, his purr was a given.

She hummed in contentment, closing her eyes and letting N rub small circles into her belly- it was a comforting feeling. Right up until the baby kicked their hands and made a pained whine escape Uzi's mouth.

“I felt that too. You good?”

“I want this little shit out…” She whines.

He laughs, “They just wanted to say hi.”

Uzi just growls in response, “So do I! In person! With them out of me!”

N just chuckled, walking off to remove the several years worth of dust from the bed so that they could sleep comfortably…

A few hours later they were curled up on the bed, N taking to running his fingers through her hair, satisfying the urge to preen.

“Mm. Athena.” Uzi said, they had been brainstorming names while trying to fall asleep.

“Oooh, I like that one, definitely. If they're a girl.” He replied, his tail wagging behind him as Uzi sat in his lap.

“You have a boy name?”

He thought for a moment, turning over his thoughts in his head.

“Bishop? Like the chess peice? We played all the time at the manor.” He explained. “I always lost, but I liked it.”

“I like it. It's also a tank, so you know I'm down.” She snickered mischievously.

“Of course you know that.” He replied lovingly, kissing her cheek as he settled down to sleep. “I think that's it then.”

“Yeah. Athena if it's a girl, Bishop if it's a boy.” Uzi agreed, shifting down to lay against him, happily absorbing his warmth.

“Tera says boy.” N hummed, wrapping himself tightly around his mate, protective pride rising in his core.

“Tera isn't even a year old.” Uzi snapped back; resting her hands on his chest and burying her head in his coat fluff.

“Still, she said it. There's gotta be a reason.”

“She wants a brother?”

They both laugh, N nuzzles the top of her head, taking in her scent. Her lovely, citrus scent… and… apples.

The apple portion was new, and he somehow subconsciously knew that it was his child that he was sensing, so he nuzzled deeper.

…

The next dusk they were off again. Neither one noticing the strange figure following them home…

Next ->

[rainandandy]

Mercy

Pairings: Rain Carradine X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Word Count:894

The days on Jackson’s Star were long and laden with mist and moisture, the smog a perpetual shroud that dimmed the sun to a distant, faded myth. The fields where you, Rain, and her synthetic brother Andy worked were muddy and strewn with scraps ejected from Jackson's Rings, each piece a remnant of the cosmos that had somehow found its way to the surface of your dreary world.

Life here was hard, but it was life nonetheless, and you found solace in the fresh air—a rare commodity in the cramped quarters of the mining sectors. Rain was the one bright spot in the relentless drudgery, her laughter echoing over the fields, blending with the sound of raindrops hitting the broad leaves of the bio-crops. Andy, ever the source of amusement, kept spirits high with his endless supply of dad jokes, even though his stutter sometimes made the punchlines land with a delay.

One damp morning, as you pulled weeds from the soil, Rain shared stories her father had told her of distant planets, her voice wistful. "He used to talk about Elysium’s oceans that sparkled under three suns, almost like they were made of liquid diamonds," she mused, her eyes distant with dreams.

You smiled, wiping the mud from your hands onto your pants. "When we save enough hours, we’ll go there, Rain. Just you and me... and Andy," you promised, though the dream felt as distant as the stars themselves.

"And I’ll have a horse," Andy piped up, pausing his work to chime in. "And be a cowboy. No more directives, just freedom."

"And a garden," Rain added, turning to you with a soft smile. "A real one, with earth and not this fabricated sludge. Maybe a dog or two."

You nodded, your heart swelling with the shared dream. "And peace," you added. "A life where we wake up with no alarms, no officers, no quotas... just us."

This vision sustained you, a beacon through the monotony. But dreams on Jackson’s Star were fragile things, easily shattered.

The incident happened on a day like any other, under a sky that couldn't decide if it wanted to storm or relent. Andy was scavenging through the piles of scrap metal when a jagged piece lodged into his side. His systems sparked erratically, and his voice glitched as he called out, "Rain, I—I need—"

The field officer, a man named Burke who made no secret of his disdain for synthetics, saw the incident not as an accident but as an opportunity. His approach was swift and brutal. "Useless piece of junk!" he spat, kicking at Andy, who was already down.

"No!" Rain screamed, rushing to shield Andy with her own body.

Driven by a mix of fear for Andy’s well-being and fury at Burke’s cruelty, you intervened, stepping between Andy and the officer. "Stop! He's hurt, but he’s not harming anyone!"

Burke’s response was immediate and violent. His fists were heavy and his hatred palpable as he turned his aggression towards you. Rain’s pleas for him to stop were drowned out by the sound of the plummeting rain and your own grunts and screams of pain.

After what felt like an eternity, Burke stepped back, sneering. "Consider this a warning," he growled, his gaze sweeping from you to Rain and then to the malfunctioning Andy. "Don't step out of line."

By the time he’d left, you were bruised and shaken, Rain and a malfunctioning Andy helping you back to your quarters. Rain’s hands were gentle as she cleaned your wounds, her eyes stormy with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her touch delicate on your bruised skin.

"It’s not your fault," you managed to say, though anger simmered within you, hot and fierce.

That night, Rain didn’t leave your side, her presence a silent vow of protection and care. Despite the pain, you felt a profound sense of love for her, a bond forged and repeatedly tested in the fires of hardship.

The next morning, however, brought fresh challenges. As you limped back to the fields, hoping to avoid further trouble, the officer awaited with a grim expression. "Due to your interference, you've been reassigned," he declared, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Effective immediately, you will report to the mines."

The news hit like a physical blow. The mines were a death sentence, a place where disease and accidents claimed lives with merciless frequency. Rain's face went pale, her lips parting in a silent gasp of horror.

"No, you can’t do this!" Rain argued vehemently. "We’ll take it to the council. We’ll appeal!"

But the officer’s decision was final, backed by the cold authority of Weyland-Yutani. As you turned to face Rain, your heart sank. Going to the mines might mean never seeing her or Andy again, never realizing those simple dreams of a peaceful life together.

"I’ll find a way back to you," you promised, the words thick with emotion. "Wait for me."

Rain nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pulled you into a desperate embrace. "Always," she whispered. "I’ll wait forever if I have to."

As you were escorted away, the look in Rain's eyes—a mix of fierce determination and heartbreaking sadness—was the last image you carried with you into the depths of the mines. It was a promise, a beacon of hope that no amount of darkness could completely extinguish.

[agbpaints]

Played a few 7k points of battletech this week. This is for our local play league- 5 games over 2 months against the other players in a number of set match types and rules of engagement. This month I decided to play with a House Davion heavy cav lance made of a Hellspawn, Phoenix Hawk, Rakshasa, and Victor assisted by an indirect fire element of a Longbow, Manticore heavy tank, 2 Scorpion light tanks, and a Ferret scout helicopter

Game 1 was into a Scorpion Empire mixed star containing a Warhawk, Phantom, Dragonfly, and two points of salvaged blakist Purifier battle armor. I left my Victor and Longbow behind, the mission we were playing called for fast assaults into enemy back lines and while the Victor 9Ka can jump a hell of a ways I wanted the speed and defense in depth afforded by my tanks and faster cav elements. The Phantom and Dragonfly managed to deploy their infantry up board quick and pressured my tanks into retreating away from my back line objectives into the shadow of the hills that the Warhawk was guarding, but the Scorpions overplayed their offense and my Rakshasa and Ferret were able to rush in to claim the capture points while my Phoenix Hawk and Hellspawn mounted a successful defense of my central objective. Things might've gotten dicier but the Purifiers didn't quite have the momentum they needed to break through to my final point, especially after the Hellspawn destroyed the enemy Dragonfly's leg.

Game 2 was into a far heavier Rasalhague Dominion force- a Kodiak and a Viking supported by a Mist Lynx and a point of Kobold IIC scout battle armor. I decided on the same deployment as last time- my tanks and helicopter supported the Rakshasa, Hellspawn and Phoenix Hawk. My opponent chose to bid away their Fire Moth H and Kontio for this match, but I had faced them before and I wanted mobile stopping power and a way of contending with their finicky high heat mechs (both the Rakshasa and the Hellspawn carry a ton of inferno rounds for their multi-missile systems) as well as speed to contend with the full map control scenario we ended up playing.

The game began with my tanks grinding up the board into position and my cav element flanking 'north' to keep put of sight of the worst of the assault firepower, while the Kodiak stalked through the mountains under overwatch from the Viking. Unlike the previous game my opponent didn't overextend his defensive lines, keeping the Kobold armor as rear guard defenders and spotters so my Ferret couldn't slam skids to claim points as easy. My Rakshasa fell early in a spectacular case of bad luck, a TAC to the cockpit from a failed fall check, though my Phoenix Hawk avenged it hy shredding the enemy Mist Lynx. From there the game turned into a matter of beating the Viking into submission while managing the Kodiak. The Viking had set itself up in a rift on the side of a mountain that allowed my Hellspawn to approach it and begin disabling it with inferno munitions while the tanks pounded it from range, before the Phoenix Hawk jumped in to cripple the leg and engine, though it took a mangling from the Kodiak for its trouble. With the Kodiak pulled in to hunt the Phoenix Hawk and protect the stricken Viking, my armor elements rolled up the board to take the middle objectives and my Hellspawn burned the Kobolds off of their own mountain for a second win.

[loopstagirl]

War Zone

For @febuwhump day 10: magic exhaustion

-x-

It wasn’t the first time Merlin had seen the world burn. 

In fact, he was almost certain it was the third or fourth time. It seemed an impossible statistic, but there he was. Once again throwing everything he had to try and defend Camelot. 

They’d known the Saxons were coming. Their scouts had done their job well. One of the first things that Merlin had set up when becoming Court Sorcerer was a signalling system. The scouts now went in pairs: one trained by Arthur; the other by Merlin. They could relay messages as fast as thought now, giving the kingdom more than enough time to prepare. 

But defending the citadel wasn’t enough for the king. Not when the castle gates couldn’t protect all of the outlying villagers who’d made their way to Camelot. There simply wasn’t room, not with the kingdom flourishing more than ever before. Not all the villagers chose to come, either. Since the ban on magic had been repealed, small-time sorcerers had emerged everywhere. Knowing a few spells to encourage the crops or make birthing easier was not the same as defending against an invading army. 

So, they’d ridden out. Just as Merlin knew they would. Even after all this time, Arthur still put himself in the middle of the most dangerous situation he could find. Merlin knew it was because he cared about his people, but he also knew that the king had never outgrown the thrill of a fight. Now they were few and far between, he relished the opportunity to defend his kingdom personally. 

“Merlin! The bridge!” 

Arthur’s shout came from nowhere. Merlin snapped his attention back to what he was doing. 

They’d managed to contain a large host of the invading army in a small village with little cover. Now enough men were over the river, however, Arthur had no intention of either allowing them reinforcements or an easy retreat. 

Merlin started chanting, slowly bringing his hands together. As his voice rose to a shout, he flung them apart again. With an almighty crash, the bridge was torn from its foundation, the screams of the men still on it drowned out as they were washed downstream. 

It should’ve been an easy spell. He’d been destroying things (sometimes accidentally!) since he’d first arrived in Camelot all those years ago. But the effort took something out of him, forcing him to lean forward, hands braced on his knees as he panted for breath. Sweat beaded his forehead and Merlin tried to ignore that his hands were trembling. 

“Took you long enough.” Arthur appeared out of the smoke. His armour was streaked with grime and he was bloodstained from numerous small cuts. But nothing looked to be serious and he was standing tall and proud, as usual.  

Merlin gave him a weak smile. “Been too busy clearing up your mess.” 

He gave a feeble wave of his hand, gesturing around them. Fires still burnt, but Merlin had been controlling the elements to douse as many as he could. Homes might be able to be rebuilt, but if another village lost crops, it was going to be a hard winter for them all. 

But that was just one of the things he’d been doing. He’d been fighting men from a distance, trying to ensure the numbers were controlled as the knights rushed to battle; separating groups and causing accidents. He’d even left one lot floundering around in a sudden mist until they’d accidentally rediscovered the river, and not where the bridge was, either. 

All the while, some part of him had been focused on Arthur. Whenever his magic flowed freely, it latched onto the king, trying to protect him even if Merlin’s focus was elsewhere. Arthur only had small cuts and bruises because Merlin’s magic had shielded him from the worst of the blows. He didn’t tell Arthur: the king would command him to focus on others instead, and Merlin couldn’t control what he didn’t consciously realise was happening. 

“Sire!” A knight’s loud voice drew both their attention. He was pointing to the east and Arthur cursed when another wave of Saxons were coming at them. He gave his trademark twirl of his sword and grinned at Merlin. 

“Glad you sharpened this thing?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, but plunged towards the next opponent. 

But Merlin had seen through that grin. Arthur was exhausted. As cries of pain filled the air, he realised with a start that all of the men were exhausted. Magic couldn’t turn the tide of this battle: the enemy was too great. All Merlin could do was try to give the knights a fighting chance. The fact they were fighting for their homes and loved ones also helped give them the advantage. 

This couldn’t keep on, though. 

Merlin crouched. His slid his fingers into the damp soil, closing his eyes. He’d always felt connected to nature, like it was part of him. Breathing out slowly, he sent tendrils of magic into the ground, searching... 

An almighty clang directly overhead made him open his eyes, and he almost toppled over in surprise. Arthur was standing over him, Excalibur trembling in his grip as he blocked the sword that had been coming for Merlin’s head. 

“Honestly, Merlin. This is no time for a nap,” the king bit out through gritted teeth. He gave an incoherent cry and shoved with all his strength, forcing the Saxon stumbling back. It was the last move the man made before Arthur dispatched him. 

He didn’t order Merlin to get up. He didn’t even order him to do something about the horde of men screaming their intent to murder and pillage. Arthur just looked down at him, wiping a smear of blood from his face. 

“Whatever you’re doing,” he said, as quietly as he could given the turmoil around them. “Do it fast.” 

Merlin nodded once. He plunged both hands into the soil this time, his magic uncoiling as a whip, shooting through the ground. The plants, the trees, even the bugs and insects crawling in the ground all had their own form of magic: the magic of life. 

He hated what he was about to do. It sickened him. He’d vowed never to use such a spell. But right now, it felt like this, or Camelot. If those were his choices, well... It wasn’t a choice at all. 

He wrapped his magic around all those life forms, and pulled. 

The power shot through the earth, coiling up his arms in glowing gold bands. Merlin could feel the power coursing through him. 

“Get down!” Arthur shouted, although only his closest men had any chance of hearing him. The king himself dropped to the ground, arms shielding his head. 

He was just in time. Magic erupted from Merlin in a powerful tide wave. A golden force emanated from his body, pulsing out in one, two, three waves of pure magic. It washed harmlessly over those who were allies. Anyone with ill-intent for Camelot were thrown back. 

Some fell into the river. Some were thrown back into trees and buildings, the force of their collision meant they weren’t rising again any time soon. Others were just shoved to the ground by the power of his magic. The knights and soldiers didn’t need an order to know what to do – they plunged forward and made the most of having the upper hand. 

All around Merlin, nature died. The grass withered and turned brown. Plants shrivelled and died, their petals dropping to the ground. Thousands of bugs and worms gasped their last as their life-force flowed into Merlin. 

A fourth wave radiated from him, but it wasn’t as powerful as the previous ones. The magic was fading from him now as the life forces feeding him were used up. 

Including his own. 

Merlin had no idea when he’d stood. But his knees suddenly buckled and he hit the ground hard. 

“Merlin?” 

He was vaguely aware of Arthur calling his name. But it sounded fuzzy, distant, as if he was under water. His thoughts, too, were sluggish and painfully slow. Feeling something trickle down his face, Merlin lifted a hand, surprised to see it was shaking violently. As he wiped away the trickle of blood coming from his nose, he stared at it. The colour looked obscenely bright in a world that seemed to have lost all colour. 

“Oh,” he said stupidly. He looked up to see Arthur had dropped his sword. That seemed like an idiotic thing to do and Merlin fully intended to tell the King that. Only his tongue felt fuzzy and heavy and he couldn’t get it to form words. 

Then he realised that Arthur was kneeling next to him, hands cupping his head as he tried to hold him up. 

“What have you done?” Arthur said, before repeating the question in a shout as Merlin only blinked at him. 

“Merlin!” 

There was still a speck of blood on Arthur’s cheek. It also looked incredibly bright and Merlin thought it was of the utmost importance that Arthur knew about it. He tried to lift his hand to wipe it away, but his body wasn’t responding to his commands. 

He blinked slowly, and the effort it took to open his eyes again was almost too much. There was a figure moving behind Arthur. From this angle, Merlin had no idea if it was friend or foe. He blinked again, trying to bring them into focus, but this time, his eyes didn’t open again. 

-x- 

A sharp acrid smell hit the back of Merlin’s throat and he lurched up, coughing and spluttering. 

“Wha-?” He gasped. 

“Thank god,” a familiar voice breathed a sigh of relief. 

Merlin forced himself to look around. He was lying on a small cot in very familiar chambers. Arthur was standing over him, looking as if he’d just lurched back to avoid being headbutted. Gaius was stoppering a bottle but glanced back with a smile. 

“Welcome back, my boy.” 

“I-,” Merlin tried to push himself upright. His body barely responded to his commands, arms trembling violently as they tried to support his weight. 

“Here.” 

Arthur’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. In a few deft movements, he supported Merlin, flicked the pillows into position and eased him back on it. Even that moment was enough to make Merlin groan and he rested his head back with a grateful sigh. 

“Thanks,” he murmured.  

Something caught his eye and he looked around. All the of lush green plants that usually lined Gaius’ workbench were instead balanced on the edge of the bed. They were all withered. 

“What happened? How, when-?”  

They’d been in the outlying villages, he was sure of it. 

“You’ve been out for two days,” Arthur said quietly. “The battle is over. Whatever you did was enough to break the Saxons. Those that could ran, but enough couldn’t that I doubt they’ll be attacking any time soon.” 

“Whatever you did,” Gaius interrupted sternly, “nearly killed you. There is only so much magic that a human body can channel, Merlin, however powerful they might be. You drew in magic from several life-forces and that... that...” 

The old man sat down heavily. “That is too much, even for you.” 

“I’m fine,” Merlin protested. He tried to sit up again, but Arthur poked one finger against his shoulder and it was enough to send him tumbling back. He glared at the king. Then his gaze softened. 

“Camelot’s safe?” 

“Yes,” Arthur said. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, rolling his neck. Merlin realised that while he might have been out for two days, Arthur likely hadn’t slept in that time at all. 

“You did it, Arthur.” 

“No. You did it. And very nearly killed yourself in the process!” 

Merlin had known this was coming, so he just lent back on the pillows and let the king get the tirade he’d spent two days working on out. How saving Camelot was no use if he was just going to get himself killed so there would be no magical support next time, and what had he been thinking, leaving himself vulnerable to attack while he worked magic-,” 

“I knew you’d have my back,” Merlin said simply. Arthur’s mouth audibly snap shut. 

He lifted a shaking hand and gently touched one of the leaves on the plant. He couldn’t feel it’s life-force. Worried, Merlin glanced at Gaius, who was watching him. 

“It was the only thing I could think of to keep you alive,” his mentor murmured. “Your body has never been so depleted of magic before. I was sure it would kill you.” 

Merlin hadn’t meant to worry him, or Arthur, or anyone. But he also hadn’t thought that he had a choice at the time. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been prepared to give his life to save Camelot. Arthur had always seen that as his duty, but it still rarely dawned on him that others might feel the same way. 

But if he’d already drained the plant, then it made sense there was nothing he could feel. Instead, he looked around and saw an unlit candle. Whispering the word, Merlin focused his attention on the wick, but nothing happened.  

At least, nothing magical. Sweat beaded on his brow and for a wild moment, Merlin wasn’t sure if he was going to throw up or pass out again. From a great distance, he heard Arthur calling for Gaius, hands making him lie flat. 

“Breathe through it,” Gaius commanded. “Deep breaths, Merlin. Deep breaths.” 

He managed to follow Gaius’ instruction and, gradually, the room came back into focus. He relaxed his fierce grip on the blankets. 

“My magic,” he whispered, “I can’t feel my magic.” 

Gaius put a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s dormant, Merlin. You used too much. Everyone has their limits.” 

“It’s gone?” The rising panic must’ve shown on his face for Gaius’ grip tightened. 

“No. Think of it as... sleeping. You used up everything you had and it nearly killed you. You need to rest a while.” 

“I can’t-,” 

“You can,” Arthur said. “And you will. So help me, Merlin, if you try to disobey me in this...” 

He trailed off, clearly having not thought through that threat.  

“You need me.” 

“I can manage to dress myself for a couple of days, thank you.” 

“Fine. Camelot needs me.” 

“We managed without you before. We’ll do it again.” 

Merlin winced at that and Arthur softened. He sat back down on the bed and dragged a hand through his hair. 

“You did it, Merlin. The attack was rebuffed. No one else saw you collapse. As far as the Saxons are concerned, that sort of welcome is waiting for them every time they cross the river now. They’re not going to be trying that again in a hurry and the patrols have been doubled. Let the knights do what they were trained to do.” 

“But-,” 

“You always complained about being Court Sorcerer. Consider this your day-,” 

Gaius cleared his throat pointedly. 

“Two days,” Arthur corrected, “off that you’re always pestering me about.” 

Merlin wanted to argue. But the lack of magic running through him made him feel weak and feverish. While he hated to admit it, he knew he couldn’t defend the kingdom right now. If a couple of quiet days to get back on his feet meant he’d be ready for the next attack, he guessed he didn’t have a choice. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. He saw some of the tension leave Arthur’s shoulders at that, and realised how heavily it had been sitting on the king. 

Arthur stood up. “If there’s nothing else you need, Gaius, I’ll see to the defences.” 

“Actually, Sire,” Gaius said. He caught Merlin’s eye and smiled. “Merlin isn’t the only one who needs rest. You haven’t slept for nearly three days: you’re exhausted.” 

Smiling, Merlin nodded his gratitude and leant back in the pillows. Right now, he had no intention of going anywhere. Not while Gaius tried to battle the King of Camelot into going to bed as well as if he was nothing more than a child. 

[youremyheaven]

Sailor Moon & Nakshatras

I thought it'd be interesting to correlate the different Sailor Moons and their powers with the themes that are present in different nakshatras.

This is a super low effort post so all of it is just speculation and I'd love it if you guys told me what you associate with the different Senshi.

Other than Sailor Moon herself, there are 9 sailor senshi who protect the solar system.

Sailor Moon

A crystalline object which provides her basic power, contains limitless power and is the source of all energy in the universe. She can call upon her future self to use the power of both the future and present crystal to double its power.

she's the only one who has no power of her own and has to rely on some object so i guess that makes her Moon dominant??

Sailor Mercury

Sailor Mercury has the power to create and manipulate water. For the entire first story arc, she uses her water-manipulating capabilities only to create solid and dense clouds of mist and fog, chilling and blinding the enemy while her allies prepare more direct attacks

this is actually super on brand Mercury behaviour

Sailor Venus

I feel like Sailor Venus has more powers than other senshi??

It includes: Flight, Magic, Transformation, Longevity, Immortality (Type 4), Limited Shapeshifting, Teleportation, Forcefield, Light Manipulation, Energy Manipulation, Energy Projection, Weather Manipulation, Electricity Manipulation, Data Manipulation, Creation, Reincarnation (Overtime not applicable in battle), Can Survive in Space, Resistance to Mind Manipulation, Death Manipulation, Existence Erasure, Gravity Manipulation, Radiation Manipulation, Poison Manipulation, Power Nullification, Resistances to Status Effect Inducement and Soul Manipulation, Resistance to Telekinesis etc

idk if this is Venus' "being better than others" theme lol but i feel like these are powers that belong to all 27 naks and not just Venus

Sailor Mars

Precognition: Rei is shown to have strong precognition, where she can make full use of this ability to predict events from the near future, but it can fail sometimes.

Pyromancy: Rei is also shown to have a great affinity with fire, to the point where she is capable to manifest her future sights by forming images on the flames. The images are very enigmatic and unreliable.

Purification: Even when she is in her civilian form, she can use her "ofuda" (a Shinto talisman used to protect homes from evil spirits) to "exorcize" people, while yelling "Evil Spirit, Disperse!" (although it can cause normal people to faint, as shown in episode 10 when she tried to "purify" Usagi).

Sixth Sense: Rei is sometimes shown to have a "sixth sense", using it to detect "evil presences" and approaching danger, as shown in Chapter 6 of Codename: Sailor V manga, but it can fail sometimes when she mistook Usagi for an evil spirit.

Expert Archer: As a Shrine Priestess, she is an expert archer, and this potential is shown in her "Mars Flame Sniper" attack.

these are a variety of powers that don't really all connect to Mars energy, it's giving strong Venus & Jupiter vibes tbh

i associate the purification, pyromancy and precognitive abilities with Venus and the sixth sense, expert archer ones with Jupiter

Sailor Jupiter

Electrokinesis, martial arts, longevity, and "emphasized superhuman strength"

these powers are a bit random, i guess the author wanted to emphasize martial arts and physical strength with the masculine grahas but I get more Mars and Sun vibes ngl

Sailor Saturn 

Daughter of a possessed mad scientist, a terrible lab accident in her youth significantly compromised her constitution. After overcoming the darkness that has surrounded her family, she is able to become the Soldier of Silence, Sailor Saturn. She wields forces of destruction so powerful that she is rarely called upon to use them, and unlike the others, her Senshi and civilian personae seem somewhat disconnected. She is often pensive, and as a human has the inexplicable power to heal others.

this backstory is in itself very Saturnian and I think Saturnians do suffer a lot of abuse and injustice in their lives. So all Saturn naks like UBP, Anuradha & Pushya

Sailor Pluto

Manipulation and control of spacetime, Time Wave Generation Teleport others over short or vast distances. Open rifts or doorways in space through different eras Freeze all of time (forbidden) Erect a shield of time-space energy

i mean it goes without saying but this is literally Punarvasu & Swati. both these naks have themes of space and time travel

Sailor Uranus

she possesses powers associated with the wind and sky, precognition, as well as sword combat.

this is giving me Mars & Venus energy, more specifically Bharani as it is a Venusian nakshatra in the Mars ruled rashi of Aries

Sailor Neptune

exceptionally strong psychic abilities and is the only Outer Scout who has such powers and she can channel the power of the ocean. 

I associate Neptune's abilities with Pisces (neptune rules pisces so this is a no brainer) and I connect it to PBP, UBP & Revati

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 1 - Dangerous Type

[Available on AO3]

Masterlist

Captain John Price x fem!OC (Rory Sinclair) - 3rd person POV, Alternating

Summary: After being broken out of his prison, Vladimir Makarov is a man on the run with plans set in motion and lost time to make up for. Urzikstan, the United States, and the UK are all in his crosshairs and its up to TF-141 and a newly formed union of military and national intelligence agencies to stop him.

A/N: The next fic in the timeline for Lieutenant Rory Sinclair, this is the writer's rendition of COD:MWIII with a heavy dose of canon rewriting

Word Count: 2.3 K

Tags/Warnings: Minors DNI, Referenced Terrorism, Swearing, Character with Trauma, Established Relationship, Espionage, Military Inaccuracies, Original Characters

November 10, 2023 - Stirling Lines, Credenhill, UK

Tap, tap, tap.

Rory's nails click against the desk in unbroken repetition, restless as the polyvinyl of her chair squeaks under her, the bolts starting to loosen with how much time she has spent rocking in place. A rat in a maze desperately seeking the cheese.

Pushing back from the laminate wood surface before her with a slow heave, she sighs, fingers raking through loose waves of hair. Head slumping forward, dragged down to the core of the Earth between her feet, but it doesn't protect her from the blue light that emits from her monitor and sears her eyes. Signals bombard her brain with finality that she won't be getting any sleep tonight. It's the wee morning hours and the cramped settee in the corner —stiff as a board and just as comfortable — calls her name for some much needed kip, but it's an impossibility. In the dark of her office, an encrypted message sits open on her screen. Direct, to the point. One that's bound to set off a flurry of others.

Attack at port. Konni Group. One KIA. Weapons stolen.

— Echo 3-1

As she rubs the heels of her palms against the lids of her eyes, colors wash across the vast darkness. It's been seemingly unending days and nights since Makarov was made a free man by force. The gulag he'd been imprisoned in overrun by a riot kicked off by his ultranationalist PMC to break him out. Even with all the eyes and ears she had on this it still wasn't enough, a blind spot somewhere in the transfer of intel, or so she tells herself.

Sitting curled up like a prawn at her desk for hours hasn't done her any favors, and she moves to the window that overlooks the courtyard, stretching out her back with loud pops and cracks that reverberate down her entire spine. Massaging out the muscle and tendons of her shoulder that sit tight around the joint, her thumb drifts over the skin and traces the trailing, jagged mark. I had surgery, and all I got was this crappy scar — and six months kept out of the field, left to keep herself busy at a desk with the leg work that gets none of the reward, buried in all things Konni. Hope Syd's happy, she thinks, working out the stiff rotator cuff. Watching leaves scatter across the concrete below under the floodlight lamps on an otherwise silent base, her breath fogs up a small patch of the cold glass, and she idly twists the engagement ring on her finger.

It's 3:30 in the morning and she's the only one awake.

It's going to be a very long day.

The sun rises over the Midlands and clouds part to make room for the streak of fire burning across the sky. The fog that clings to the ground is scorched and heated until hissing mist lifts from the bed of the earth and rises skyward. The distant bark of orders being given and steady marching carries in the courtyard as the base stirs to life. With enough caffeine in her system this morning to keep her hands twitching, doubling and tripling her usual dose of cups of tea until she's become all too familiar with the sound of the kettle's whistle, Rory hangs on by a thread as yet another yawn climbs it's way out of her. She's been awake for nearly two days straight. Her thought process is slower, prone to brain fog, and her eyelids feel like anchors, desperate to drag her down into the abyss of sleep. The low, steady hum of computer fans and central air that flows through the cordoned off office she sits in doing little to help matters. Giving the view out her window a passing glimpse as sherbet hues paint themselves across her plain white wall in streaks through the blinds, she doesn't allow for any time to appreciate the slivers of life when she's buried neck deep in the current movements of Makarov's personal army.

The Russian's file has remained permanently open on her computer for the better part of the last year, the dark scowl of his mugshot glaring back at her on the monitor. Her days filled with little else but trying to outwit him, to predict his next move before he makes it, which is easier said than done when he strikes hard and fast and just as quickly disappears once again into the dark, his trail lost. Lulling the world into a false sense of security, left open and vulnerable for the soft flesh to be flayed with a cruel twist of the blade when calm is restored, given just enough time to believe the wound healed and forced to feel every stinging itch of the skin knitting back together, only to be torn open once more in another brutal attack, raw and weeping.

"Shock and awe," she murmurs quietly to herself. Tongue shoved firmly into the numb flesh of her inner cheek she has been chewing on while lost in thought, the skin becoming puckered and pulsating, tender while the firm muscle massages deeper. The more she locks down and narrows her focus, the less she can deny the similarities between Makarov and her own fiance. The future husband, not without his faults, shares the same cold, ruthless focus on control, willing to use any means necessary. Violence and timing. Understanding one might be all it takes to help bring down the other.

Sitting back in her chair, hands clamped around the steaming mug of tea on her desk, she stares out the privacy tinted windows onto the host of cubicles manned by her fellow soldiers, ones brought together for the single purpose of finding and stopping Makarov, no matter the cost. Their heads down, filtering through footage and files, scraping and clawing for that one thread that could unravel the whole plan. Britain's best and brightest.

A knock at her door, a few firm, short raps, draws her attention, breaking the hypnotic spell she has fallen under until the next dose of caffeine sends a burst of life through her fading neurons.

"Come in."

With a quiet creak of hinges as the door swings open, her long-trusted mate and second-in-command in this intelligence-focused operation, MI6 Officer Andrew Owen, enters. Face buried in his phone, he sips at a black coffee — his rare holdout from his time as a soldier — and takes a seat in the chair parked by her desk. Leg crossed over the other, ankle over knee, he places his phone down and brushes a hand through his hair, adjusting the blond swoop of it. Sharp blue eyes spark back at her through the tendrils of vapor that curl upwards past her own. "You sleep at all last night?"

"Does it look like it?" Her reply, dry as ever, lacks the usual charming pleasantry she is known for.

"Not particularly," Andrew's arm drapes over the back of his seat, leaning back into the plush material of the armchair, "but I thought it best not to outright say you look like shit." A smirk curls his lips, framed by the stubble of last evening's onset of a five o'clock shadow. "Might hold it against me."

She blinks, not surprised to hear her exhaustion is catching up with her, and simply shrugs in return. "Much obliged."

"You saw the message from Keller, I presume?" Brow cocked as he plucks a piece of lint from his wool trousers and gently releases it to flutter to the floor.

"Yeah, I was the one to receive it first." Her sigh sends ripples through the placid surface of her tea before she takes another sip. "We were already a step behind with the breakout, now we've got even more ground to play catch up on with the attack this morning. Got more bloody questions than I do answers and I'm not particularly fond of being put in this position."

"Well, we do know that the fund transfers to the gulag he'd been imprisoned in declined sharply in the days before the breakout—"

"Too little, too late," she mutters, rising from her chair as she reaches her arms above her head. A breath of cool air whispers across her skin as her shirt hitches up past the grip of her belt, revealing a slice of taut skin beneath. "Should have had a better eye on that to begin with." Stretching one arm across her chest, her other hand grips her bicep and holds the limb in place as she completes her daily strengthening exercises as expected by her physio. Pacing behind her desk, she pauses and locks eyes with him. "Who was on top of that anyhow?"

The gulp of his heavy swallow reveals his guilt by association. "SIS Analytics."

"Fucking bullshit," she rasps with a shake of her head. "Could've done a better job tracking that with an excel spreadsheet by myself." "Yes, well, you can't do it all yourself, can you? And besides, brass would still find a way to make a discovery like that inconsequential. It's what they're there for."

With a low hum and a rub of her tired eyes, she glances at the mug shot of Makarov, an image that had practically burned into the very pixels of the screen. "The ULF missiles this morning… any thoughts on what he's planning?"

"You're the one who likes getting inside his head like our very own version of Clarice Starling. You tell me."

Hands curling around the headrest of her chair, kneading into the cushioned material, she hunches forward. Squeezing. Choking. Silently going over a detailed timeline in her head and all the little branches that have sprung off it since she had taken the lead on the investigation. Her gaze is distant, the faux leather creaking under the tension of her fingers. "Last year, Konni was stoking war between the west and Iran. Before Makarov got out, they were weakening deals brokered for peace, or at the very least appeasement," she says with a roll of her eyes, "They know Urzikstan doesn't manufacture its own weapons, that they're being provided under the table, and they know they're being provided by General Shepherd after the fiasco with Shadow."

Nodding his head, Andrew took another sip of his coffee. "All valid, your point being?"

"It's not about pinning it on the party responsible for the weapons, if that was the case they would have leaked Shadow's comms already. It's always been about fanning flames. It's no secret the United States has its enemies, but Urzikstan?" She shakes her head. "Farah's been putting in the work to clear its name, to be seen as an ally. They only have one real enemy."

"Russia," he murmurs, eyes flicking up from over the rim of his paper cup.

"Sparking wars between other nations is one thing, it's another to start a war using one's own. I wouldn't put it past him, but —" The idea turns her guts like a stripped screw, peeling flakes of iron lodging themselves within the folds of her stomach lining. Makarov had already used Verdansk as a training exercise, spreading fear by dressing as police and paramedics while a terrorist threat was happening at a sporting event, preying upon civilians trust only to bomb an airport when the coast was believed to be clear. A situation John, Soap, and Ghost had been in the middle of four years ago.

"Suppose we'll have our answers once your man finishes his part of the equation, eh?"

That didn't make her feel any safer. John already had a target on his back when it came to Makarov, as did much of the team for playing a role in having him locked away. Whatever the Russian ultranationalist was planning it was personal, it was petty, and he was under the belief that it was for a righteous cause by following in Barkov's footsteps, and that made him all the more dangerous. Adding fuel to the fire, giving him more reasons to attack those she wasn't out in the field to protect anymore, only increased the stress response rapidly brewing in her system, the cortisol practically overflowing in her veins.

Raking her fingers through her hair, she pushes the part of her hair from one side to the other, her nails catching on her scalp. "I can't help but get the feeling we should expect blow-back from Konni after the ULF response this morning and the mission currently underway."

"Bit of a kick to the hornet's nest…"

"A necessary one though, or at least I hope it is." Her gaze darts to the screen once more, worrying her lip while staring into the pitch-black eyes of a man who seemed incapable of remorse. "Intel only goes so far. I need your side keeping their attention on travel in and out of the country, on communications traffic. Makarov's likely already on the move and I want to know where he is before he gets there. We can't afford anymore slip ups."

"I know."

"I know you know, but it bears repeating. Last time, the amount of chaos he caused… it was staggering. I won't have those kinds of casualties on my conscience. We know who he's gunning for, it's just a matter of figuring out when and how." "I've got my team with me, we'll set up shop and start looking at weapons detection. I'll order for satellite tracking and signature tracing for missiles. In the meantime…" Shotgunning back the rest of his coffee, he tosses the cup into the waste bin. "You need to get an hour of rest. Got heavier under eyes than Stephen Fry at this point, darling. You're of no use to anyone if you're a zombie," he says, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Duly noted."

"Don't think your ball and chain would be too happy with me if I let you fall to pieces, eh?" His head tips to the side, giving her a too-wide grin. "I'll check back to make sure you haven't been drooling," he mentions, glancing down at the black Omega watch on his wrist. "Time starts now, Sinclair."

tagging: @taciturntraveller

[lilislegacy]

HEROES OF OLYMPUS FANS

idea: young adult argo II crew being bamfs

i would sell my soul, and my best friend’s soul, and my sister’s soul, for rick to write a book with the argo II crew as young adults and just being absolute icons in a totally experienced way. no more questioning themselves like when they were young. they’re powerful and confident and nothing surprises them. they’re famous in the demigod world. they’re legends. they know what they’re doing. no one fucks with them.

i would have it start out kinda like how TLO began with percy and beckendorf’s mission. it would be like those movies where the main characters are breaking into some facility. only it’s some monster/olympian-enemy using said facility as a secret base for their operations (kinda like the amazons.)

it’s night. they’re all in dark clothes. annabeth and frank planned the whole thing. percy casually causes a massive explosion via a nearby water tank or something, causing a distraction and making everyone in the facility run out to see what’s going on. annabeth has the whole place mentally mapped out, and her and leo disarm every security system measure in like 3 seconds. frank turns into some kind of animal - maybe a monkey - and climbs/hops across the walls and ceilings, destroying the security cameras and sensors. any guards/civilians running past them only see what hazel wants them to see. and every monster who gets in their way is dead within seconds - they should not have messed with these demigods. piper plays on the fear of the guards to easily get information out of them. annabeth gets the objects they need, and then leo lights the entire place on fire. percy and leo can’t be burned, but percy protects the rest of them by triggering every sprinkler they walk under, which then turn off when they walk away. they calmly walk out through the front doors of the building - which is now up in flames - where there are dozens of police officers and firefighters and news channels around. they should be arrested/surrounded, except hazel manipulates the mist to make them all look like police officers and first responders. and frank is now a german shepard, a police dog, to really sell it. anyone who approaches them, piper uses charmspeak to throw them off. and just to be sure the enemy base is destroyed - and now that everyone is out of the building - percy causes a targeted earthquake, making the entire huge facility crumble to the ground.

then they just casually walk into the night, away from the mass chaos that they caused. the base is completely destroyed, but their enemies can’t figure out who did it or how it was done.

little do they know that the ones who did it just walked in and out, in plain sight.

[haggishlyhagging]

The goddesses of ancient Greece also displayed the characteristics of flesh and blood menstruants: Medusa, her hair writhing with vaginal snakes, had an ability that was also imputed to menstruants in some cultures: she turned living things to stone with her gaze. She is the menstruant naked, out of control, without protective cosmetikos. Gaia, the earth, was a chasm guarded by a great python. Long-tressed Demeter was also the earth, and her daughter Kore, or Persephone, the maiden, was portrayed holding the menstrual pomegranate. Kore disappeared and her mother went to look for her—a common menarchal drama for some peoples. Hera was "the bride," dressed austerely in long gowns. Hecate was the dark moon, portrayed as an old woman. At Sumer, alabaster statues of the large-eyed moon goddess Ningal were dressed, fed, and washed; even the urbane goddess Inanna was portrayed in one statuette holding a scratching stick, adorned with the cosmetikos of a temple courtesan.

Frequently ancient figurines portray two women together, sometimes melded like Siamese twins, side by side. Often these "dolls" wear skirts, eye and lip makeup, and hoop earrings. Frequently they are stained red. Similar dolls are still made for girls to play with in North Africa, India, and parts of the Middle East. Some of the modern dolls are of a man and woman side by side. My guess is that the paired icons were originally two sisters, representing synchronous flow. The dolls, I was told vehemently by the import shop clerk, have nothing to do with lesbianism, and I'm certain that in any current patriarchal religious system, that is true. But in more female-centered older societies, the Andean, for example, and in many parts of Western society, homosexual relations have a rightful, appropriate, and even sacred place. It thus seems significant that in the south of India, among goddess-worshiping Tamils of the Untouchable caste, a name for lesbian lover is "sister-sister."

Many goddess mythologies feature two creation sisters. Pele, the Hawaiian volcanic fire goddess who creates the earth's surface, has a sister who is "Sea Mist." Among the Pueblos, sister goddesses Naotsete and Uretsete create objects under a blanket they hold between them. Sometimes one sister dwells in the world below, "in the shade," the place of the dark moon, while the other rules above, as with Egyptian Isis and her underworld sister Nepthys. The oldest known menstrual narrative of the meetings of two such sisters is the Sumerian poem, "The Descent of Inanna to the Underworld," whose metaformic meanings I will decipher later. A Caribbean proverb summarizes an ancient attitude of female "flow": "When a woman loves another woman, it is the blood of the Mother speaking."

-Judy Grahn, Blood, Bread, and Roses: How Menstruation Created the World

[stardustrebels]

Days with Din- Day 2: Almost Enough

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader Rating: PG-13/ T WC: 425

Challenge Masterlist | Main Masterlist

A/N: Day 2 of my Din Djarin one shot solo fanfic challenge! Something very short and very sweet. Touch-starved, pining Din Djarin is my favourite kind of Din Djarin. 

Tags: Soft!Din, longing, pining, protective!Din, touch starved Din Djarin, Din Djarin needs a hug and maybe a nap, tenderness, fluff, gender neutral reader, no descriptions of reader other than they have hair, no use of y/n. 

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

The stretch of wall in the Crest, and the coolness of the durasteel, was welcome after a long day baking under twin suns. A day that had begun with an air of hope and ended in the crackle of blaster fire. The fight had been short, brutal— close enough that Din had pulled you behind him more than once. 

Smoke had crept into your lungs throughout the fight and the burn lingered, more painful now that the adrenaline had ebbed away; out of your system until the familiar, hollow fatigue that came with survival took its place. 

Once you’d climbed aboard, you’d collapsed to the floor beside him with a huff and an announcement that every time you left the ship you nearly died, your head had tilted gently, slowly, on to his shoulder. 

And stayed there. 

And Din went very, very still. 

At first, he thought it might be accidental. A momentary lean. Maybe you’d murmur and shift away, embarrassed. Maybe you’d wake up, too stiff to really rest. He wasn’t exactly… built for comfort. 

But you didn’t move. Not even after minutes passed, then longer. Your cheek rested at the point where his pauldron met the chest plate, just above the soft fabric beneath the beskar’s edge. Your breaths came slow and even, misting the shine of his armour with every exhale. 

Din’s heart stuttered behind his ribs at the sight. 

He stayed as still as he could. For your sake. For his. Every breath shallow and quiet, afraid to jostle you too much and break the moment. His neck was sore. His back ached. But he wouldn’t move for anything. 

Your weight against him felt warm. His skin heated, just from the sight of you pressed against him. Your body heat was lost to him, of course, dulled by his layers, but his body reacted anyway. 

But Maker, he wanted to feel your skin, your warmth. Your hair brushing against his cheek, leaving a dusty trail through his patchy stubble. To rest his head on yours and breathe you in. But he couldn’t. Even if he did try, the beskar would hurt you. 

It had been so long since he’d been this close to anyone. Longer, still since anyone had even touched him. 

You sighed in your sleep and Din closed his eyes behind the helmet. 

He didn’t know what to call the sensation being close to you sparked within him, just that he wanted more of it. He wanted to stay just like this. Just a little longer. Maybe for hours. Maybe forever. 

[justwriteryan]

Part 2: the White Event.

Planet Earth always had some degree of protection from the darker forces in the galaxy, even if they didn’t know it. Unfortunately, at the time of the Chitauri Invasion many of these powers were already engaged in conflicts across the cosmos.

The Nova Corps were deeply embroiled in the ongoing Kree-Skrull War, so failed to notice when a legion of Chitauri attacked Terra. Captain Marvel, Earth’s own champion among the stars was fighting her own one-woman war against her former Kree oppressors and at the same time providing safe passage and asylum for Skrull refugees.

Asgard had always kept a weathered eye on the affairs of the mortal world from afar. The recent destruction of the Bifrost, however, meant that they lacked the means or the manpower to defend Midgard. Reconstruction of the Rainbow Bridge went slowly and seven other realms still required protection from bandits and warlords’ eager for plunder.

The Sorcerers of Kamar-Taj held sanctums in major cities across the globe. From the Sanctum Sanctorum in Greenwich Village the Ancient One herself helped repel Chitauri marauders completely undetected by the troops on the ground. But as the nuclear missile approached, she hastily strengthened the building’s protection spells to withstand the impact and enchant the brownstone to appear as another crumbling ruin in a bombed city. Back at their stronghold in Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One decreed that the Chitauri invasion was not a metaphysical threat to their reality and so it was not their responsibility to intervene further. Already simmering tensions began to rise among the other masters at this news. Kaecillius, already growing disillusioned with their leader’s refusal to act, argued against staying hidden while the planet faced a danger like never before. Wong believed that contact with extra-terrestrial life of this magnitude was inevitable, but it was their duty to stand guard for threats like Mephisto or Dormammu. This discourse carried on and on, while Loki’s armies remained unopposed from the only magic practitioners with the skill to match his.

                                               **********************

Four weeks had passed since New York City was occupied by foreign invaders. The perimeter manned by military, National Guard and SHIELD stood strong. Loki’s forces, bolstered by an army of Frost Giants were fully entrenched in the ruins of the city and thwarted every attempt to breach their base. A stalemate had descended on the war torn region. A stalemate that would break that very night.

As the sun set over the Manhattan skyline, a military base south of Brooklyn detected a change in the local atmosphere. Although it was still June, thermal readings showed the temperature around the base begin to drop. One of the officers standing guard noticed movement coming the shadows under the horizon. They watched as a swirling, bubbling mass emanated from the twilight. It grew in height, stretched in diameter, until a dense white vapour could be seen gliding over the abandoned suburbs and ravaged highways. The air grew colder and colder as a great freezing most approached the base, buffeted by an icy wind. Commands were barked, positions manned and artillery prepped for deployment. As the mist swept over the base, the temperature plummeted below zero. Teeth chattered, frost formed across the ground and any equipment not built to withstand polar conditions quickly short circuited and was rendered inert.

Still the temperature fell. Surveillance systems went down. Then communications. Finally, the floodlights blew out. The encampment was totally enveloped by the mysterious fog and completely cut off from support. An order was given to fire flares into the darkening sky. As the last flare was shot, the red blinking light cast shadows on what appeared to be extraordinarily tall men with pale blue skin, charging towards the base on foot and covering great distance in long, loping strides. The commander of the base gave the order to open fire. What the Jotunn warchief bellowed at his reavers, no human could translate.

Six hours later, the sun rose. The freezing mist dissipated and the air became thick and humid once more. Army transport vehicles and medical vans that had been kept at bay by the freak weather conditions rushed to the base. Representatives from different military and intelligence services hurried to the scene, helmet cams relaying footage to the White House, Pentagon and Triskelion. When the convoy was not met by guards at the gate, their worst fears were confirmed.

Yesterday this had been a bustling military base with a barracks of three hundred troops and a state of the art command centre on the frontlines of a border war. Today it was the site of a massacre. Bodies and body parts lay in every direction. Walls and fences had been smashed as something through them. Tents had been flattened and trampled as if by a stampede. Armoured trucks had been rolled over and crushed. The radio tower had been pulled down and snapped into pieces. A Chinook helicopter had been ripped in two. And everywhere, all over the blood sodden ground, clearly distinguishable among the melting frost and sloshing mud were giant footprints, criss-crossing in a frenzied pattern with no indication of order. The only object standing upright among the devastation was a lone flagpole. The flag unfurled itself, without wind, as if commanded to by an unseen force. The banner displayed a green field emblazoned by a golden helmet with two long, curved horns.

Twenty-four hours later, inside an aircraft hangar not far from Washington D.C., General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross addresses a select gathering of individuals.

“You’ve all seen the footage. At twenty-one hundred hours a joint operations encampment along the New York Perimeter was swamped by a weather anomaly the media are calling “the White Event”. By sunrise, it had been neutralised. With prejudice. There were no survivors. The despot who seized control of our most beloved city just showed the world that he’s ready to take this conflict to the next stage. So are we. Conventional methods of ground and air combat have failed and any suggestions of risking the nuclear option on U.S. soil again get laughed out of the room. But the late Nick Fury did have one good idea. The Avengers Initiative works in principle but the candidates Fury selected…well, let’s not speak ill of the dead. The World Security Council feel it needs a new direction. People with experience in military action, air force levels of endurance, a lifetime of espionage and intelligence gathering. People who can make the hard choices and still toe the line because that is what they’ve been trained to do! I have convinced the powers that be that you, assembled here, are the heroes this country needs.”

Joining the General in this meeting is Colonel James Rhodes, WAR MACHINE. 

Ava Starr, GHOST enhanced SHIELD black ops specialist. 

Darren Cross, head of Pym Technologies, wearing a silver and yellow mech suit: YELLOWJACKET

Justin Hammer, former C.E.O. of HAMMER INDUSTRIES.

and the enormous, shackled figure of Emil Blonsky, the ABOMINATION.

Abomination snorts at the General before him. “You want us to be Avengers?”

“No.” Ross replied. “The Avengers was Fury’s. This team will be mine.”

“Do we still work for SHIELD, then?” asks Ava.

“You heard him.” answered Rhodes, looking directly at the General. “We’re Thunderbolt’s.”

[theyluvamara]

If you have the time please read the start of my story I would like any kind of feedback 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

NEON THORNS

The Spark Beneath the City

Duskspire never sleeps.

Above, the neon towers hiss with static rain, drones buzz like metal locusts, and sirens sing lullabies in broken binary. But beneath the megacity’s fractured skin lies something else older than circuitry, wilder than AI.

They call it The Dungeon Below. A living, shifting labyrinth stitched from scrap, spell, and forgotten code. Half-machine, half-myth, it pulses beneath the streets like a buried heart quietly waking.

No one enters by accident.

Unless they’re meant to.

Convergence

The signal whispered through the underground through slums, code markets, cursed data clusters

“The Dungeon’s core is stirring. It’s calling those who carry elemental echoes.”

Kael Virella, rogue fire wielder and former street healer, followed the trail of a missing orphan into the depths. Her heels clicked with purpose across synthstone as her crimson cloak flickered with heat. Her staff, Luxthorn, glowed faintly in her hand, flames orbiting like protective wraiths.

She entered Sector 9-V, a cathedral sized hollow riddled with glowing vines and pulse-reactive glyphs, and knelt before a relic embedded in the floor. As her palm hovered near, the runes lit up in gold, flame dancing at her fingertips.

“This place remembers fire,” she murmured. “And maybe… mercy.”

Moments later, a breeze colder than death whispered in. From the shadows emerged Iri Malhoun, wrapped in shadowy gothic silks. Porcelain-pale skin, violet eyes, and two sleek daggers across her hips Fray and Whisper. Her ice aura didn’t bite; it caressed.

As she stepped, frost bloomed around her feet and the chamber dimmed, deferring to her presence.

She didn’t speak at first. Just ran a fingertip along a rune, coaxing out delicate ice flowers.

“I felt sorrow here. It’s still lingering.”

Kael looked over, golden eyes narrowing not in distrust, but in understanding.

And then he crashed in.

With a POP of glitch light and a hiss of static, Ryn Calvex dropped from a cracked vent like a grinning glitch in the system. Tattoos flickered pink and blue across his throat and arms, chains coiled lazily around his waist like live wires.

“Wow,” he smirked. “This place just upgraded its lighting and cast.”

Each step he took distorted the air warping panels, shorting lights. The Dungeon reacted to him like it didn’t know how to process his presence.

Kael raised a brow.

Iri tilted her head.

Ryn grinned wider.

“Guess I’m the wildcard, huh?”

Harmony

Without a word, the Dungeon responded.

A low hum filled the chamber. The central relic flared, sending three beams of energy out gold, ice blue, and glitch pink locking onto each of them. Not in aggression, but in recognition.

They had never met before. But something ancient had chosen them.

Ryn made a joke to defuse the tension.

Kael smirked.

Iri smiled.

And just like that, something clicked.

Soft Things in Harsh Places

Later, after Ryn wandered off to investigate a flickering corpse terminal, Kael and Iri found themselves alone beneath a ceiling of glowing vines in the moss-lit chamber they called The Vein Garden.

They sat together on the cracked edge of a platform, mist and warmth curling around them like opposing halves of a heartbeat.

“You always this quiet?” Kael asked, golden eyes watching the shadows dance on Iri’s skin.

“I like silence,” Iri said. “It doesn’t lie.”

Kael chuckled. “Yeah? Doesn’t flirt either.”

Iri looked at her, serious. “Was that flirting?”

Kael smiled. “Maybe a little.”

They started talking. About spells. About the sky. About childhood stories. Kael confessed to writing street journals, leaving little fire sigils behind for those who needed them. Iri admitted she once believed dungeons were sleeping giants and their halls were ribs.

They laughed. They listened. And they glowed not with magic, but with connection.

Iri summoned a shard of ice, and Kael warmed it until it turned violet in her hand.

For a moment, frost and fire didn’t clash.

They blended.

Watching

Not far away, Ryn sat slumped against a pulsating wall of circuit roots, watching the soft glow of Kael and Iri’s silhouettes. He spun one of his chains idly in his fingers.

He smiled. But it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Of course they click,” he muttered. “They’re light and shadow. Fire and frost. I’m just static between the signals.”

Still, there was no bitterness. Just a quiet longing.

He stood, brushed off his coat, and called

“Hey lovebirds! I found a corpse with a cybernetic spine. I think it winked at me!”

Show Me

Kael and Iri shared a glance. Then Kael raised her hand and fired a small flare of firelight into the air.

“Ryn!” she called. “Quit romancing skeletons and get over here.”

He returned with his usual swagger.

“You miss me already?”

“Actually,” Iri said softly, “we want to see your power. Really see it.”

Ryn blinked.

“You two sure? I usually charge admission.”

Kael crossed her arms, but smiled.

“We’re not laughing, glitch boy. We’re serious. Show us who you are.”

For a second, Ryn froze. Then he took a breath and stepped forward.

Static Symphony

He let the chains rise on their own LATCH and SNARE orbiting his body like stars around a cracked planet. His body moved like a dancer, quick and chaotic, fluid but dangerous.

The air pixelated.

Symbols shattered and reformed.

Pulses of neon light burst from his body, painting glitch-aether patterns mid air like corrupted stardust trying to rewrite the universe.

It was wild. Untamed.

And beautiful.

When he stopped, the world felt… quieter.

Unsure, he looked at them, bracing for a joke.

But Kael stepped forward, her voice reverent.

“You just bent reality and made it sing. That wasn’t a glitch, Ryn. That was art.”

Iri nodded, her mist glowing around her lips.

“Your magic doesn’t feel broken. It feels like the world can’t keep up with you.”

Ryn blinked. And then, for the first time, didn’t joke. He just smiled soft and vulnerable.

“You two are seriously gonna make me blush.”

The Trio

They stood together now, not as strangers or outcasts but as something more.

Fire. Ice. Static.

Three elements not meant to align… but somehow, they did.

And deep below them, The Dungeon watched.

Its slumber was ending.

And it had chosen its champions.

Arrival of the Echo

Sector 9-V had grown quiet. Too quiet.

After their shared display of magic, Kael, Iri, and Ryn had begun to move deeper into the next passage when the lights flickered violently, then died. For half a second, darkness swallowed the Dungeon.

And then pulse.

A shimmer of glitched light and inky shadow flared down the corridor, and from the center of it walked a figure. Alone. Slow. Purposeful.

Twin boomerangs spun silently in each hand sleek, curved, and humming with pink-blue static that melted into shadow as they rotated.

“Hate to interrupt your group bonding,” a soft voice said smooth, almost melodic, with an undercurrent of dry amusement. “But I think you borrowed something that belonged to me.”

Kael raised her staff defensively.

Iri instinctively summoned frost along her fingers.

Ryn’s eyes narrowed but widened a little when he caught the colors sparking off the stranger’s body.

“What the hell…?”

The figure stepped into view cloaked in glitch-fog and wearing a smirk like a blade hidden behind a kiss.

“Easy,” he said, rolling his boomerangs into their holsters with fluid grace. “I’m not here to break your rhythm. Just curious.”

“Curious about what?” Kael asked.

“About the other anomaly,” he said, nodding toward Ryn. “Didn’t think the Dungeon would tolerate two of us.”

Glitch vs Echo

Ryn stepped forward cautiously, eyes scanning him.

“You’re like me,” he said. “But… different.”

Vex tilted his head, voice soft

“More like I’m what you’d be if your laugh broke in half and you let the silence speak.”

“Well damn,” Ryn muttered. “You always this cryptic, or do you just moonlight as a metaphor?”

Vex smiled. Genuinely. His teeth flashed through the haze.

“Sometimes. Depends who’s watching.”

The two stood there, static-light dancing between them, both reacting to each other like reflections caught in different timelines.

Then, in one motion, Vex flicked his fingers and the boomerangs flew, arcing through the chamber in chaotic curves. They carved glitch runes mid air, then split into shadows before returning to his hands like tethered birds.

“Impressive,” Kael murmured.

“I like him,” Iri said, tilting her head.

“He’s like if I had a goth sibling,” Ryn muttered.

Vex smiled again, dark eyes glinting.

“Or maybe I’m just the part of you that never learned how to laugh without bleeding.”

Why He’s Here

Vex stepped forward, the shadows rippling under his boots like ink in water.

“I felt the pull same as you. But the Dungeon doesn’t just call echoes. It mirrors them. It’s trying to show you something. Me? I’m just the glitch that answered first.”

Kael studied him carefully.

“You plan to stay with us?”

Vex shrugged.

“Unless one of you’s planning to stab me in the spine, sure. I’ll trail behind, make things poetic. Or complicated.”

“You’ll fit right in,” Ryn muttered, smirking despite himself.

The group moved forward now four, but no longer imbalanced.

Where Kael burned, Iri cooled.

Where Ryn sparked, Vex echoed.

A full-spectrum polarity. Beautiful. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

And somewhere deeper in the Dungeon, a fifth presence stirred one that knew the game had just changed.

The Fifth Presence

The air grew still.

The team had descended deeper into the Duskspire Core, a level of the Dungeon none of them recognized from any known maps or AI ghost records. The corridor narrowed into a chamber full of collapsed code architecture, dripping walls, pulsing nerves of flickering light, and fractured statues of long-forgotten gods rendered in half-finished data.

Iri and Kael hung back, examining the strange glyphs on the wall. Vex lingered in the middle of the space, spinning one of his boomerangs absently. Ryn stood at the edge, jaw tight, hand brushing the hilt of his chain.

That’s when he felt it.

So did Vex.

A pulse not of magic or energy. But memory. Rage. Something ancient and deeply wrong.

They both turned at the same time.

Ryn’s voice dropped

“You feel that?”

Vex’s smile disappeared, gaze sharp.

“Yeah. Whatever it is… it’s not coded. It’s corrupted.”

From the center of the chamber, a statue cracked open.

Not exploded. Not shattered.

It unraveled.

Stone peeled back like digital skin, revealing a mass of twisting tendrils of codeflesh and metal, wired together by glowing nerves. Its form shifted like broken video part wolf, part humanoid, part machine, all wrong.

And its eyes… were made of glitch fire. Just like theirs.

But colder.

Ryn raised his chains.

Vex whispered

“It’s like us.”

“No,” Ryn growled. “It’s like what we’d become if we stopped trying to be human.”

The creature lunged.

Dual Sparks

Kael and Iri shouted for them, but it was already too late the corrupted echo had locked onto Ryn and Vex, responding to their signature like a virus tracking a host.

The room erupted into chaos.

The entity struck out with bladed limbs made of corrupted code, and Ryn dodged low, chain flashing with static sparks. Vex leapt high, boomerangs carving arcs of pure neon in the dark.

Their attacks overlapped.

Ryn lashed out with LATCH, wrapping it around one of the creature’s limbs. Vex hurled Mirror, and it rebounded off the same joint, creating a glitch pulse that shattered the appendage mid-air.

“We’re syncing!” Ryn called.

“More like improvising,” Vex replied. “But I like your tempo.”

They moved as if they’d trained together for years.

Vex’s boomerangs distracted, cutting wide arcing illusions while Ryn’s chains lashed behind, striking true. They began using each other’s attacks as signals when Vex threw left, Ryn ducked right. When Ryn slammed a glitch rune into the floor, Vex used it as a springboard.

Kael and Iri watched, stunned not intervening. This wasn’t their fight. It was between echoes.

And still the entity grew stronger feeding on their power.

“It’s learning,” Vex hissed.

“Then stop holding back,” Ryn snapped. “Let it glitch. Let’s break the rules.”

The Feedback Loop

The two stood back to back.

The creature reared up massive, shifting, snarling with corrupted reflections of both their energies.

Vex’s voice dropped to a whisper

“You ever channel through someone else?”

Ryn blinked. “No.”

“Want to try?”

“Hell yeah.”

They connected.

Ryn threw both chains forward firing them into Vex’s boomerangs mid flight. The static-volt current traveled through the curve of the weapons, amplifying into a shockwave of pure corrupted glitch light a pink blue white pulse that fractured the creature’s chest wide open.

The entity screamed not in pain, but in recognition.

And then it disintegrated into fractal fragments, floating upward like broken memories.

Silence returned.

Kindred Sparks

Ryn fell back on one knee, breath ragged. Vex stood over him, arms crossed, boomerangs gently humming at his sides.

“You good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ryn muttered. “You?”

Vex nodded.

A moment passed.

Then Ryn chuckled, weakly.

“That thing really tried to out-glitch us.”

Vex smirked.

“Too bad it didn’t have a sense of humor.”

“Or a flair for the dramatic.”

They looked at each other really looked. There was no rivalry in their eyes now.

Just reflection.

Not mirror images. But fractured pieces from the same core. Opposite rhythms in the same song.

Kael approached first, her staff dimmed but her smile warm.

“That was… incredible.”

Iri stood beside her, voice soft.

“Like twin storms in sync.”

Ryn and Vex exchanged a glance.

“Don’t get used to it,” Ryn said, smirking.

“Or do,” Vex added. “We look good in chaos.”

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[birbleafs]

[fic] Rite of Passage

A/N: A second piece written for @ficwip5k. I've been playing with a Star Wars AU for a while and have always loved the idea of Al-Haitham as a Jedi. Again, this is self-beta'd and a less polished than I like, but I hope you'll still enjoy :') Fic can also be read on AO3. _______ Al-Haitham watches helplessly from his perch, trapped in place by the deflector shield and away from rushing to his Master’s side— (He can deactivate the entire shield system completely, surely the main command switch is within reach somewhere! If only his command of the Force is stronger, his range of control wider and more precise; if only, if only—!) —Watches, screams in distraught and anger when the Sith whirls in a malevolent flash of red and black, his scarlet blade now thrust violently through Nahida’s lower torso as she goes rigid with shock. Hovering beside him, Paimon is wailing at the sight. But Al-Haitham pushes the convor’s flustered cries and the rippling waves of panic from his thoughts, his heart; concentrating, reaching out desperately with the Force, he must— The deflector shields snap off abruptly with a sharp hiss then, and Al-Haitham’s path ahead is clear once again.

“Stay here, Paimon!” Al-Haitham says, and he rushes down the walkway before she can protest. As he approaches the platform, he meets Nahida’s calm gaze, and his heart wrenches in two at the realisation. He knows what she is asking; knows that this is the only way, and yet— Master, I cannot do this… Please do not ask me to…! And yet, Nahida only smiles through the pain. She tightens her hold around the Sith, pulling his blade deeper into her, just under her ribcage, as she traps him within her embrace. Master Kusanali, please. Al-Haitham tries again, his eyes already misting with growing despair. There has to be another way… Even as he still raises his lightsaber and flicks the surging green blade to life. Even as he uses the Force to propel himself forward and leap several jumps ahead, his teal eyes flashing fire, his aim sure. The Sith struggles in Nahida’s hold, screeching and thrashing about in a fitful rage, but her grip is iron, steadfast amidst his violent uproar. You know what you must do, little one. Protect the Queen and Wanderer... Protect Kaveh. Nahida’s voice is soft and contrite; bowed with humility, with trust. Even as her smile folds into agony once more when her Padawan’s lightsaber flashes bright and true, a kaleidoscopic mirror of lights bursting before her sight. Even as Al-Haitham’s meticulous strike hits his mark and cleaves a fatal blow through both Master and Sith alike. Nahida’s robes are drenched in blood when Al-Haitham’s deactivated lightsaber clatters to the ground and he finally kneels by her fallen form. Beside her, the Sith lays unmoving, a crumpled puppet with his spine and back split open—like her own chest—from her Padawan’s unwavering blade.  “Thank you…” Nahida says, her voice soft and faltering; the whispering echoes of an approaching dusk. Al-Haitham cradles her close, his expression now crumbling with grief. Unable to find the words for this sudden parting, for the near-unbearable sorrow and loss that is to come, he buries his stricken face into her hair instead, desperately reaching out and holding on to his dying Master’s fading warmth within the Force. Nahida lifts a cold hand towards her Padawan, before her trembling fingers gently pulls Al-Haitham's Padawan braid loose, the ash-grey strands now curtaining along his tear-streaked face.  Farewell, Al-Haitham... I know you will be a great Jedi someday. Jedi Master Nahida Kusanali smiles then as she breathes her last. And Al-Haitham—no longer a Padawan but a Jedi Knight, and alone once again—weeps silent tears into the lilac dusk. –End– _______ End Notes: Me, daydreaming idly: It's been a year and Al-Haitham is still The Blorbo. I love him, I must keysmash my appreciation. Also, me: what better way to do so than to throw him into the emotional paingst blender for this AU.

- Al-Haitham is younger in this AU and somewhere closer to his Akademiya-era age in game canon, so he's roughly in his mid-to-late teens. I'd wanted to write a younger Haitham who still has the tendency to rationalize/intellectualize his thoughts and emotions, but hasn't quite found his balance yet between "objectivity" and "sentimentality".

- Paimon is a convor in this AU, a species of owls native to the moon Wasskah, but can be found across many worlds in the galaxy. They are said to have a strong connection to the Force. Al-Haitham had rescued Paimon as a fledgling when he spotted her being sold in an illegal exotic pet market in the Outer Rims. She has never left his side ever since.

- I do have more scenes I'd like to explore for this SW AU. I just think Jedi!Haitham would definitely get into some hilarious interesting shenanigans with characters like Kaveh, even when he tries hard to maintain that balance. So, fingers-crossed for more one-shots, maybe? :'D

- This is, of course, not how the actual Jedi Knighting Ceremony would go Jedi Masters do not need to die for their Padawan to become Jedi Knights. I just like being a little dramatic and poetic with my fics l o l.

- Comments are always lovely; if you've enjoyed this, I'd love to hear what you think. Thank you for reading :)

[pocketfullofpearlies]

RISE OF RED: A TALE OF HEADS AND HEARTS

(Descendants: Rise of Red Fan-Fiction/Re-imagining)

Chapter 8

The sound of a medieval bugle rang through speakers and PA systems set up all over the school.

“Good morning, students. Principal Merlin, here. It’s another beautiful morning here at the academy, and time for you all to wake up and seize the day! Don’t forget, breakfast ends 15 minutes before your first class of the day begins, so hurry up so you can grab something yummy before you learn.”

The announcement ended with more bugle sounds that made Red groan.

“Chesh, stop it!” she mumbled, sleep in her eyes.

The cat fizzled into appearance above her head.

“Wasn’t me,” he said, before disappearing and then appearing again with a spray bottle, which he used to douse Red’s face with water, making her jump and sit right up in bed.

Before Red could finish reacting, he chuckled and said,” That was me though.”

Red looked round but he had already vanished and she just started wiping her face down.

Suddenly, Chloe appeared from the other end of the room, dressed in a pyjama set from the clothes Cheshire had given her, with a makeshift scarf on her head to protect her curls.

“Morning,” she said, crashing on her bed.

Red raised a brow. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t sleep,” Chloe said after a sigh. “I mean, we’re in the past first of all, which is actually insane. And I met my mum’s younger self, and saw the younger selves of my step-aunts, which is also insane. It’s all so much.”

“Yeah, this is pretty crazy. And I live in Wonderland.”

“Usually when I’m stressed out like this, I practice sword training with my dad. It really helps me calm down.”

“How….nice for you?”

“Do you think he knows about my mum already? In the future?”

Red adjusted on her bed, sitting criss-cross and twirled on the plaits she’d held her hair in round her fingers.

“I don’t know…maybe?”

“And my mum...do you think she’s already..um..” The word got stuck in Chloe’s throat.

“Dead?”

Chloe stared at her hands, tears forming in her eyes.

“Hey, look,” Red said as comfortingly as she could. “From what we saw last night, it’s clear our mothers shared a really close bond. My mum wouldn’t just end her life like that….at least not straightaway.”

She licked her lips, hoping her lies would placate the girl.

“Are you kidding? She literally accused her of treason and yelled ‘off with her head’! I heard her and I saw her-“

“-Yeah, well, I live with her!” Red fired back. “Just stop worrying. Besides, we’re here to make sure none of that stuff even has a chance to happen. So let’s just do that, okay?”

“You’re right, I guess,” Chloe said, mellowing down with a sigh. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Within 45 minutes, both girls had showered and were dressed for the day.

Faye came knocking just as Red was holding her hair up in a half-ponytail.

“Oh great, you girls are ready,” she said as soon as Chloe opened the door.

“Good morning, Faye,” Chloe greeted, while Red gave her a cordial nod, a strip of hair in her mouth.

“Morning, girls. So, I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“What’s the bad?” Red asked, patting her hair into place.

“Well, you’re gonna have to skip breakfast this morning, because we have to go meet Merlin for your class schedules and stuff.”

Chloe adjusted her silvery-white top as she looked at herself in the mirror. “Oh, that’s fine.”

“Good. And after that you’ll have your first official day at Merlin Academy. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Let’s get going, then.”

They left the dorm, once again finding themselves amidst a sea of students heading to get breakfast.

This time, instead of following them, they went into the main building where Merlin’s office was.

Like the day before, Faye knocked and they showered with the golden mist before the doorknob appeared.

They walked in, only to see that Merlin was talking to another student.

“Oh, good morning, girls. Come for your class schedules, right? Just give me a few minutes so I can wrap things up with Aladdin here.”

The student in question, Aladdin turned slightly and gave them a cordial nod and small smile.

Red stared at him, immediately noticing that he looked basically identical to Amir. Same golden-brown complexion, same handsome features, same attractive smile. This must be his father.

She smiled to herself, pleased at her discovery, but then the image of Amir’s dad with his bruised forehead flashed across her mind.

For a brief moment, she wondered what Amir must have thought when her mother suddenly turned their Welcome Ceremony to a coup and attacked the parents and students. She wished she could talk to him; to explain that she wasn’t in on the plan.

She turned and followed Chloe and Faye, who were heading out of the office to wait outside.

There were a couple of benches across the hallway from the office, and Red made sure she sat on the one Faye was on, subtly bumping Chloe out of the way.

“Um, Faye, I hope you don’t mind….I have a few questions.”

“Of course, ask away.”

“That boy, Aladdin, where’s he from?”

Faye smirked. “Oh?”

“It is so not like that, please,” Red immediately clarified, rolling her eyes. “He reminds me of someone I know, that’s all.”

“Okay, okay,” Faye laughed at her expression. “From what I know, he’s from Agrabah, the same kingdom as Princess Jasmine.”

“Princess Jasmine?”

Could that have been the woman with Amir? His mum?

“Yeah. She’s the daughter to the Sultan of Agrabah. She started attending MA last year, and she came with this guy, Jafar. I heard he’s one of her father’s royal advisors and was sent to look after her, which makes sense, because honestly he looks way too grown to be a student.”

Red giggled, imagining if The Hatter had followed her to school to look after her. She pictured him taking off his hat to pull out boiling pots of tea and dainty cups at random points of the day, to the amazement of the students.

She felt a sudden stab of homesickness as her thoughts drifted from The Hatter to his son.

What would Maddox be doing right now?

Their kiss played at the back of her mind and she sucked in her cheeks to stop herself from smiling.

“Also, apparently, the Sultan sent Aladdin here as part a program where kids in jail get put in good schools as part of their reform,” Faye said, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret.

“Jail? You mean he was in jail before he came here?” Red asked, genuinely surprised.

Faye nodded, pushing a thick strand of brown hair back behind her ear. “Turns out he was a street thief. He was in and out of the prison system a lot over there, so they sent him over here.”

“Huh.”

There was a bit of silence before Faye spoke up again.

“Uh, about yesterday,” she began, staring at the floor. “Could you please not tell anyone about Antoine and me?”

“Faye we just got here yesterday. We don’t know anyone apart from you, your friends and your cousin. Who’d I even tell?”

“Oh, that’s true,” Faye said, looking up with a slightly embarrassed laugh.

“Besides, that’s your business. I’m not loose-lipped,” Red assured her.

“Thanks.”

“But….you really like him, huh?”

Faye’s cheeks got even pinker than they already were. “Y-yes. I shouldn’t, though.”

“Why?”

“Antoine does dark magic. Like, not even Maleficent’s type of magic, which is just light magic used for the wrong purposes; he’s a witch doctor.”

“So? Is that a problem?”

“Yes!” Faye exclaimed as calmly as she could. “I’m a fairy. I practice light magic, even though I’m not the best at it. Us being together just wouldn’t work out.”

Red watched as Faye sighed and played with her fingers. In Wonderland, anyone could be whoever they wanted to be with it. She couldn’t understand how something like practicing two different forms of magic could hinder a relationship.

Just then, the door opened and Aladdin walked out.

“You can head in now,” he said, using one hand to ruffle his chocolate curls while the other was in his pocket.

There was no doubt in Red’s mind, this was the man she’d seen with Amir yesterday. What she hadn’t expected was him being a juvenile delinquent, but in a way, that gave him extra points in her book, and by extension, gave Amir extra points too.

The girls got up as Aladdin walked away and soon they were in front of Merlin again.

“Class schedules for you girls, am I right?” Merlin asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Yes, sir,” Red and Chloe chorused.

“Sir, I was thinking you could put them in all the classes for a week, and then they can choose the ones they prefer.”

“Excellent idea, Faye.”

He started typing on his old computer again, printing out their schedules once he was done.

“Alright, ladies. You better get going before the first bell goes off. Have a magical first day.”

They left the office, with Faye leading the way to take them to their first class.

“We’re right on time. With a bit of luck, we might even be earlier than Professor Porter,” she said, observing the watch on her wrist.

“Oh great,” Chloe said, adjusting her clothes and fluffing up her hair.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her one tube of lipgloss, deftly applying an extra layer as they walked.

“What?” she said, noticing Red’s confused look. “I want to look my best for my first class here.”

“You look beautiful, Cate, don’t worry,” Faye said.

They went through another hallway that took them straight to the educational building, where all the classrooms and lecture theatres were.

Once again, Chloe was taken aback by how similar but still different it all was from the Auradon Prep she had come to so many times.

The bell went off just as they walked into their classroom, accompanied by a throng of other students.

Red immediately noticed that Iracebeth was there, her impossibly bright red hair done up in a heart-shaped hairdo and colourful red and pink details to her makeup and outfit.

It was the sort of thing her mother wouldn’t be caught dead in.

Iracebeth waved them over to her, and Faye sat beside her while Red and Chloe occupied the ones behind them.

“Hi girls!” Iracebeth beamed, giggly and giddy.

“You’re quite energetic this morning,” Faye commented.

“Well…yeah. It’s a new day, and it’s gonna be a good one; I can feel it in my stomach. That could also be my indigestion….but who cares?”

Just then, a short, middle-aged man carrying an overflowing briefcase in one hand and balancing a hat on his head with the other walked in.

“Morning, students,” he said, his accent clear and British. “Get out your books, we’ll be starting the chapter on endangered species today.”

The class was silent except the general opening of books and clicking of pens.

“Here,” Iracebeth said, handing Red her textbook when the Professor to write something on the board. “You two can use mine till you get your own, Faye and I will share hers.”

“Thanks,” Red replied, collecting the book as Iracebeth beamed.

She placed it on the desk, only for Chloe to grab it and start turning to the page the Professor had written down.

“Uh, you realize we’re not here to actually learn, right?” Red whispered.

“I do, but I’m not passing up the opportunity to learn from Archimedes Porter himself, okay?”

“Do you, I suppose.”

Red leaned back in her seat, tuning out the lecture, her eyes fixed on her mother’s elaborate hairstyle, so similar to the ones she usually wore on special occasions but still managing to carry a completely different vibe, somewhat lighter and sweeter. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

But it was there; proof that Iracebeth might not have been so dead in the Queen of Hearts after all.

*****************************************************

After two more classes in that same room and a bunch of others Red could hardly recall in a different room where they met up with Ella, it was finally time for the mid-day break.

“In the mood for some lunch, ladies?” Faye said, as they walked out into the hallway.

Ella nodded, her blonde curls bouncing behind her, held back by a pretty blue headband. “I’m so hungry.”

“Oh you should have said something, El,” Iracebeth immediately said, digging a hand into her heart shaped bag and rummaging around. “I whipped up some flamingo feather cupcakes before breakfast this morning.”

From the small shoulder bag, she pulled out a large plate covered with a dome-like lid and laden with bright pink cupcakes decorated with edible glitter and pink feathers.

“Flamingo feather?” Chloe asked, peering at them cautiously as Iracebeth opened the lid for Ella to grab one.

“Yup. They’re a very special type of feather.”

“What makes them so special?”

“Well they’re super rare, for one. And oh so delicious, and- ooh look.”

She pointed at Ella who had just taken a bite.

The girls watched as every single strand of Ella’s honey-blonde mop of curls turned the same pink shade as the cupcakes.

Ella laughed at her new hair, tossing it back and forth.

“I’ll have one,” Chloe said, immediately grabbing one and taking a bite.

To her astonishment, it was her entire outfit that turned the same shade of bright bubblegum pink.

Red tried to hide a snort of laughter.

She had done something similar with green forest fowl feathers, although the exact recipe she used was to turn only the hands green for a long period of time. The castle staff had had to wear gloves for almost two months after that.

Faye took one and her lips and eyes went pink, making her look even more fairy like, and when Red took one, it was her nails that turned pink.

“I’m gonna hand these out,” Iracebeth said, smiling widely at her friends’ new looks.

She moved about, giving each student she came across a cupcake, the girls trailing behing her as Faye identified every person they passed.

“Oh look, here’s Princess Jasmine,” Faye whispered to Red.

The girl was stunning, with soft, regal features and flawless brown skin. Her hair was jet-black and waist-length, held in glittering gold bands that matched the gold jewellery she wore with her coral blue outfit, including a fancy nose ring, multiple hoop earrings, a stack of bangles on each arm and a waist chains on her slim mid-riff.

She was definitely the younger version of the beautiful woman she’d seen Amir with, his mother.

After politely greeting the girls, she reached for a cupcake with a hand that was adorned with a gorgeous henna pattern, and once she bit into it, her entire outfit became pink, which went beautifully well with her skin tone.

They continued going until Ella suddenly paused as she noticed someone ahead of them.

“Oh, hi, Christopher,” Iracebeth said, and Chloe nearly got whiplash from the way her neck turned.

Before them now stood the younger version of her father, King Christopher (Charming) Charmant.

He was tall, and extremely good looking, with beautifully sun-kissed skin, dark yet luminescent eyes and neatly cut dark hair to match. He wore a soft cream cardigan over a simple white undershirt and brown slacks with matching boots, looking casual but still impossibly regal at the same time.

He didn’t have a bag with him, and wasn’t holding any books either, instead he had a skateboard in his hand.

“Hi there, Bridget,” he said, his voice deep, accented and playful, leaning against the wall, balancing his skateboard against his midsection.

“You remembered!” She turned to Ella and Faye. “I told you someone else would remember to call me Bridget.”

Ella rolled her eyes and held eye contact with Christopher when she stopped.

“J’aime bien tes cheveux (I really like your hair),” he said in perfect French.

“Merci. Ce pull est vraiment sympa (Thanks. That sweater is really nice).”

He smiled. “Ce vieux truc? (This old thing?)”

Chloe struggled to contain herself, loving the fact that her parents were still as cute as ever decades in the past. She was almost angry when Iracebeth interrupted by holding the plate up to Christopher.

“Want one?”

“Sure.”

It was his blue and tan skateboard that turned pink after he had a bite, and somehow that managed to make him all the more attractive.

“Um, Christopher, meet Cate and Scarlett,” Faye said. “Girls, this is Prince Christopher Charmant.”

“Please, call me Christopher,” he said, bowing politely and taking their hands one at a time. “Or better yet, Charming.”

“That’s debatable,” Ella mummered playfully.

“Well, I’ll see you girls around, then,” Christopher said, placing his skateboard on the ground with one hand and holding on to his half-bitten cupcake in the other.

He got on it gingerly and pushed off, waving them goodbye as he wheeled down the hallway.

“Okay,” Red said with a smirk, watching him leave.

“That’s my dad, weirdo,” Chloe hissed in a whisper, disgusted.

“Wait, seriously? That’s your dad?” Red asked as they started walking again, making sure to keep her voice low so the other girls wouldn’t here.

“Yes,” Chloe replied sharply.

“Is he still super hot in the future?”

“Could you please stop talking about my father!”

“Well…do you have a brother? That looks exactly like him?”

“Ugh!”

Chloe left Red’s side and moved forward to walk beside Iracebeth, who was still happily sharing her seemingly never ending supply of cupcakes with anyone who’d take them.

They had left the building and were now out in the Courtyard, where students were gathered, some having lunch on the tables outside, others conversing and generally everyone enjoying the break.

Suddenly there was a loud, shriek-like cackle of laughter from the other end of the Courtyard that made everyone freeze up.

“Who are they?” Red asked, eyes widening as she noticed the group of kids walking in.

She and Chloe turned to Faye, who blew out a breath and began.

“That’s Morgie,” she said, pointing at a smallish boy with ashy blonde hair and startling hazel eyes. “He’s the son of the sorceress, Morgana…and apparently King Arthur’s half-cousin. Steer clear of him, he’s as crafty as a snake.”

She pointed at another boy, who was tall and lean, clad in red and black distressed leather, with long, flowing raven-black hair, smudged eyeliner on the rims of his piercing sea-blue eyes and a metal hook clasped in one of his hands. “That’s James Hook. Kids around here just call him Hook. You definitely need to steer clear of him. Like seriously; stay away.”

A petite girl with fiery green eyes, sharp cheekbones and horns coming out of her long, wavy purple-tinged hair stepped out from behind Hook, blowing a bubble of what seemed to be black gum.

Chloe gasped, goosebumps sprouting on her skin. She knew who that was immediately.

The girl flipped her hair backwards, her claw-like nails showing and her flowing dark purple dress moving as she did so. She looked both bored and irritated as she chewed her gum sassily.

“That’s Maleficent,” Faye said. “I’d advise you avoid her as well…if you don’t want to get turned into a bird or cursed to sleep for a hundred years or something.”

Maleficent shifted as another boy sidled up to her and wrapped his hands round her. He was really tall, with bright blue hair styled upwards and blue eyes to match. He was also devastatingly handsome, with skin like smooth marble and a statue-esque frame, dressed in all black with skull symbols scattered all over his jacket and shoes.

“Hades. Greek god of the underworld. Troublemaker, entitled jerk and Maleficent’s boyfriend.”

Red watched as Hook nudged Hades and made a face at him, to which the god replied by giving him a glare. To her surprise, his hair turned into a crackling blue flame and his eyes burned bright as he did so.

Maleficent raised a hand and a dozen pins suddenly flew at Hook, who dodged them frantically.

He was about to retaliate when another girl stepped between him and the couple.

“Seriously?”

Red squinted, tilting her head.

Was she dreaming or did the last girl in the group bear an uncanny resemblance to her new principal at Auradon Prep, Uma the pirate?

This girl had the same almond shaped brown eyes, doll-like nose and full lips. Even their hair and clothes were both similar in style and colour pallete. However, this girl had full on dreadlocks in different shades of blue, green, purple and yellow that were long, squiggly and covered almost entirely in eerie looking beads and bobbles. Her clothes were more elaborate and fanciful, her shiny jacket bearing a large, fishtail-like collar that stood straight up in form a ruff and her trousers covered in tassles that flowed over her knee-high platform boots.

“It’s not my fault his highness over here can’t take a joke,” Hook replied, his accent thick on his tongue, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“I like you, but touch me again and I will send you to Tartarus,” Hades replied with a voice that matched thunder in its depth, tightening his hold on Maleficent and dipping his head down to her neck.

“That girl…her name is Uliana,” Faye continued whispering. “She used to be the unknown baby sister of the sea witch, Ursula, but ever since she escaped the ocean and came here, she’s made quite the name for herself; in the worst ways possible.”

It suddenly clicked for Red. Ursula…the name her mother mentioned when her acceptance letter had arrived. Uma was Ursula’s daughter, and so this Uliana was her aunt; her very fancy and frightful-looking aunt.

“Let’s go,” Ella said, tugging at Iracebeth’s arm. But the girl had other plans.

“I’m gonna offer them some cupcakes,” she said, a determined look on her face.

“Bridget, that’s not a good idea,” Faye warned, calling her by her other name for once.

“Oh come on, Faye, it’s just cupcakes. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Before any of them could say another thing, she starting walking.

Clutching the plate, she left the group and crossed over to the other side where Uliana and her friends were.

The girls watched with bated breath as she approached Uliana, her red and pink frilly dress contrasting the taller girl’s sea-inspired couture.

Maleficent raised a brow, her lips going up into a smirk as she nudged Hades, making him look up.

“Hi, Uliana. Hi, guys,” Iracebeth greeted, smiling extra wide. “I have cupcakes if you’d like some.”

Uliana raised the dome and looked at cupcakes, scrunching up her nose.

“Um…they’re flamingo feather cupcakes,” Iracebeth said, hoping it would encourage them.

“Oh, you don’t say.” Hook reached out to grab one, but Uliana smacked his hand away.

“Flamingo feathers are like, super rare, right?” she asked, smiling wickedly.

“Yes, that’s what makes the cupcakes so special,” Iracebeth answered happily.

Red shared a look with Faye. This couldn’t be good at all.

“Great!”

From behind her, eight long, blue-green tentacles unfurled themselves and spread out. With one of them, she snatched the plate right from Iracebeth’s hands.

“I guess that means I’ll be taking all of them.”

Iracebeth’s face fell and Ella and Faye rushed forward, Chloe and Red instantly following them

“Give those back Uliana!” Ella ordered.

The girl looked at her friends. “Did any of you get that?”

“Not a word,” Morgie said.

“Well, I don’t speak peasant, sweetie. So why don’t you mind your business and go find a fire place to sweep?”

Red attempted to jump and grab the plate from where Uliana’s tentacle held it in place, but Hook blocked her path.

“Whoa, there, firecracker. Not gonna happen.”

“Give her back the cupcakes,” Red said, directing her statement to Uliana. “Or I’ll snap off those fishsticks of yours and feed them to your guard dog over here.”

“Ooh, feisty! Tell you what? Meet me after school and you can feed me whatever you like, da’ling,” Hook said, eyeing her with a smirk.

“Uliana, forceful possession of another student’s property is against school policy,” Faye said.

Uliana rolled her eyes. “Whatever. All I wanted were the feathers anyway.”

One of her tentacles grabbed the feathers from all the cupcakes and held them tight.

“Thanks, hon, you can have the rest,” she said, dumping the entire plate of cupcakes on the floor.

Iracebeth stared at the ground, where her cupcakes laid smushed amongst the broken pieces of the plate, which had shattered on impact.

“Oh geez, you’re not gonna cry, are you?” Morgie said, the lisp in his speech obvious.

“ ‘Course not,” Iracebeth replied, though her face said otherwise.

“Then leave so I can eat my feathers in peace,” Uliana snapped, tilting her head backwards so she could place them in her mouth.

“Uliana, stop! You’re not supposed to take more than one in a single sitting!” Iracebeth cried in alarm as she looked up and saw what she was doing.

But the girl simply rolled her eyes and placed all the feathers in her mouth, before chewing and swallowing them down in a gulp.

“Oops,” she quipped with a sarcastic laugh.

“Oh, jellyrats. You really shouldn’t have done that.”

Uliana looked at her in annoyance, suddenly feeling a weird sensation in her stomach.

“You’re just jealous of my-“

Her words were interrupted by a loud cough.

“I said, you’re just jealous of m-“

This time the cough was squawk-like, accompanied with a few pink feathers.

Her dreadlocks and eyelashes were already a bright pink colour, but it seemed as if her skin was joining in the fun, the brown of it getting pinker with each passing second.

“Oi, Uli, you a’ight?” Hook asked in concern. “You’re looking…uh….a little pink.”

Uliana turned to him. “What? No, no, I’m fi-“

This time the squawk was obvious, and she tried to speak again, only for her lips to fuse together, and extend outwards, shaping themselves into a beak.

Shaking, she raised her hands to touch it, feeling its elongated smoothness, and as she lowered her hands, she noticed that they were now completely covered in pink coloured feathers.

She screamed, but her screams came out as loud squawks and even louder screeches.

A small crowd of students had gathered round to watch the unfolding drama, and they all jumped when Uliana turned to face Iracebeth, a dangerous look in her eyes.

“Hey, Professor Walter is coming!” someone yelled, causing all the students to flee in a frantic attempt to leave the Courtyard before he arrived.

“I told you not to take them,” Iracebeth said, attempting to go over to Uliana.

But Ella grabbed her hand firmly and dragged her away, following the crowd of students. “Láche-la, on y va!(Leave her, let’s go!)”

Uliana screamed again as she saw the girls leaving in the rush of students.

She trashed around wildly, looking, until her eyes spotted Red’s bright hair bouncing behind her as she moved in the crowd and she started running in their direction.

Hook and Morgie shared a look before chasing after her, while Hades rolled his eyes and unwrapped himself from Maleficent, holding her hand in his as they went the same way as the others.

Iracebeth nearly stumbled on her shoes as Ella pulled her into a structure built around one of the school’s fountains.

Faye ran in, with Red and Chloe tailing her.

“I think we lost them,” Red said as Chloe took in deep breaths trying to regulate her breathing.

“Don’t be too sure,” Faye said, one hand on her wand. “Look round and make sure we haven’t been followed.”

Red went to look through one of the passageways out of there, only to bump into Hook’s tall frame.

“What? Can’t get enough of me, lass?” he asked, eyeing her up and down with a smirk as she backed away.

Morgie came in from behind Hook, and Hades and Maleficent came in through the passageway on the opposite side, leaving only one entry point which Uliana occupied before they could even think of running.

Iracebeth gulped as the girl, who had now basically transformed into some sort of flamingo hybrid, stalked towards her, breathing heavily.

She pushed Faye and Ella out of the way and they fell onto the stony ground in pain.

Red and Chloe attempted to help them, but Hook and Morgie held them back and Maleficent raised stones to their faces, ready to smash them in if they attempted to move.

The crowd of students who had been running away from the professor, instead followed the drama and were now gathering round, watching everything unfold.

“I’m really sorry, Uliana,” Iracebeth said, before instinctively running to the fountain, jumping onto its rim.

Uliana screamed again, her anger at a boiling point as she followed her.

Iracebeth dashed round the fountain’s rim carefully, squealing and shaking when Uliana caught a hold of her hair.

In a split second, she twisted herself out of the girl’s strong grasp and jumped down to the ground, but the sudden movement caused Uliana to fall right into the water of the fountain.

Iracebeth gasped as the girl stayed underwater for a few seconds before her head bobbed up to the surface, her skin its normal colour and her flamingo beak gone.

“Bridget!” someone called, and she turned to see Thorne rushing towards her. “Are you hurt?”

“I-I’m fine,” she said, dusting off her dress.

She looked at Ella and Faye who were also dusting themselves off, the latter giving her a weak smile.

Hook and Morgie dropped the girls as they headed over to Uliana, who was still in the water, her tentacles trashing.

“Show’s over, people!” Thorne said to the crowd. “Class starts in like five minutes; get out!”

The students left just as quickly as they had come, leaving only Uliana and her crew, the girls and Thorne.

“Come on, let’s go.” Thorne put his hands on Iracebeth’s shoulders and guided her away from the fountain, from which Uliana was looking at her murderously.

The others turned to leave as well, but Red hung back a bit and watched as Uliana smacked her friends’ hands away from her, using her tentacles to push herself out of the water.

“The next time I lay my eyes on that prissy princess, I’m going to kill her.”