#red skies crossover

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (exodus)

Introduction

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Pairing: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Next part: contact

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Millennia before the reign of the Padishah Emperors, before the Guild navigators learned to bend space, and long before the Bene Gesserit began their breeding program, there was another power, a House whose name was whispered with awe and fear across the stars—House Targaryen of Valyria.

In those ancient days, Valyria was a shining jewel of the universe, a world of towering spires and grand pyramids, whose mighty fleets ruled not one world but twelve. From the skies of Laansarad to the distant colonies of Qohar and Sarnor, their banner—a red three-headed dragon on a field of black—was a symbol of dominion, and their words, "Fire and Blood," were a promise. Their secret to power was not only their advanced technology or their skill in combat, but something far older, something the Imperium would come to call "unnatural." For the Targaryens were bonded to creatures of legend—dragons—whose very existence defied the laws of nature and technology.

But their power, their fire, had not gone unnoticed.

Once they emerged, the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood, ever-seeking control of bloodlines to further their goals, had long coveted House Targaryen's strength. Yet they could not penetrate the Targaryen bloodline, for the House was immune to the Sisterhood's manipulations. Rumors abounded that the dragons themselves had gifted their riders with an ancient magic that made them resistant to the spice and to the Bene Gesserit’s arts. The Targaryens did not bow, did not mingle their blood with the lesser Houses of the Imperium, and did not submit to the Sisterhood’s schemes. This isolation, this defiance, would be their undoing.

It began as whispers in the shadows of the imperial court of House Corrino, whispers that spoke of Valyria’s growing influence and its potential threat to the Emperor's rule. Fearing the power of House Targaryen and the dragons they commanded, House Corrino, in secret alliance with the Bene Gesserit and several other noble houses, set in motion a betrayal that would forever change the galaxy.

Without warning, the skies of Valyria turned dark as Corrino's fleets descended upon the planet like locusts. Great dreadnoughts unleashed their fury, raining nuclear fire upon the unsuspecting cities. The Targaryens, though powerful, were not prepared for such treachery. The star cities of Valyria, with their grand pyramids and towering spires, were reduced to ash in a matter of hours. Their colonies—once strongholds of the Targaryen vassal Houses—were similarly annihilated in the firestorm.

The Bene Gesserit, cold and calculating, had played their part well. They ensured that no Targaryen blood would escape their reach, confident that the ancient dragonlords were now a cautionary tale, a reminder that even the greatest Houses could fall.

But they were wrong.

In the chaos, a single fleet—a fraction of the once-mighty armada—managed to escape the inferno. Led by Aenar Targaryen, a visionary dragonlord, and his most loyal vassals, the remnants of House Targaryen fled into the void. Their dragons, too, escaped, fleeing with their riders into the unknown. With the enemy forces closing in, Aenar made the hardest decision of his life. He ordered the abandonment of the civilian starships—hundreds of them—that could not jump through space at the speed needed to escape. Tens of thousands of men, women, and children—innocent lives—were sacrificed to buy time for the chosen few. As the slow ships limped away at sub-light speed, doomed to be caught by their pursuers, the core fleet vanished in the blink of an eye, jumping to coordinates no one in the known galaxy had ever seen.

In their flight, they left behind only death and ruin, convincing the Imperium that House Targaryen was no more. The Bene Gesserit believed the bloodline had been wiped out. House Corrino celebrated their victory, confident that their throne was secure.

But the Targaryens were not dead.

As the surviving ships jumped further and further into uncharted space, their surviving dragons roared in defiance. Aenar Targaryen vowed that his House would rise again. The fire that had consumed Valyria would be reborn, and one day, the red three-headed dragon would fly again over the stars.

Their enemies had only bought themselves time.

In the vast, unknown reaches of space, the last of House Targaryen sought a new home, far from the grasp of the Empire, far from the Bene Gesserit’s eyes. In their hearts burned a single truth: fire and blood. It was all they had left.

And it was all they would need.

Far beyond the reach of the known universe, in the vast and uncharted depths of space, the last of House Targaryen drifted. For weeks, their ships had traveled through the void, their destination unknown, their hopes tethered only to the coordinates embedded in their ancient star charts. Aenar Targaryen, now the sole leader of his House, stood at the helm of his flagship, his mind consumed by thoughts of what was lost and what might yet be found.

Then, the scanners caught sight of something—a planet unlike any they had ever seen. Its atmosphere glowed a rich, deep red, the color of blood under an alien sun. Its oceans shimmered like rubies, and its vast jungles, though strange and wild, thrummed with life. The planet seemed to call to them, a beacon of hope in the darkest night.

"This is it," Aenar said, his voice carrying the weight of a prophecy. "We shall call it Albiron."

As the Targaryen ships descended upon the planet's surface, they found a world brimming with untapped potential. The air was thick but breathable, rich with minerals that nourished the vast jungles below. Towering mountains stretched into the sky, their peaks capped with dormant volcanoes. Aenar made his home there, at the highest point, building a grand pyramid into the volcanic chain that would serve as both fortress and palace. Around it, more pyramids soon rose, connected by a complex nexus of pathways above the dark amber forests. Below, cities began to form, hidden by the jungle canopy, shielded from prying eyes.

Albiron was a world of secrecy, and House Targaryen would see to it that their new home remained unknown to the Imperium and its allies.

As they delved deeper into the planet's surface, they made a discovery that would change the course of their history. In the heart of a vast canyon, buried beneath layers of rock and time, they uncovered a crystal unlike any they had seen before. The crystals, translucent with a faint golden hue, pulsed with an energy that seemed almost alive. Aenar named them drakaon, in honor of the dragons that once ruled Valyria, and the power they held was nothing short of revolutionary.

The drakaon crystals, as they soon learned, could be harnessed as a new energy source. They could be used to fuel their ships, making long-distance space travel possible without the reliance on melange—the spice that had kept the Imperium in control of the stars. For the first time in millennia, the Targaryens were free from the constraints of the galaxy’s economy, free from the Guild's stranglehold on space travel. Their technology advanced rapidly, fueled by the power of the drakaon crystals, and soon, the Targaryens had fleets capable of crossing the stars without detection, fleets that no longer needed to bow to the powers of the known universe.

In secret, they thrived. The cities of Albiron grew more complex and advanced, their pyramids rising higher, their pathways extending further across the planet’s vast jungles. Their ships patrolled the unknown regions, mapping uncharted stars and ensuring that no one would find their new home.

But the greatest secret of all lay within the depths of their new world.

Within hidden caverns, deep beneath the volcanoes of Albiron, Aenar and his descendants built vast hatcheries. Here, using knowledge salvaged from the lost archives of Valyria, they revived their ancient bond with dragons. Clutch by clutch, new dragons were born, their eggs glowing with the same fiery life that had once illuminated the skies of Valyria. The first to hatch was a magnificent beast, its scales a deep, molten red, its eyes like twin suns. They named it Vexarion, a harbinger of the new Targaryen age.

As the hatcheries grew, so too did the dragons, each one bonded to a rider, as had been the tradition for millennia. Once more, the Targaryens flew on dragonback, their fire-breathing companions reclaiming the skies of Albiron. They were stronger, fiercer than ever, their lifespans prolonged by the spice, their health enhanced by the crystals, just as their ancestors had once done. The galaxy believed the last dragons had died millennia ago, but here, on this blood-red planet, they lived—and they thrived.

Under Aenar’s leadership, House Targaryen rebuilt its strength. They did not forget their defeat, nor did they forgive it. But they had learned patience. For now, they would remain hidden, waiting, watching, biding their time in the shadows of the Imperium. They would rise again, but not yet. For now, their future lay in the skies above Albiron, in the bond between dragon and rider, in the power of the drakaon crystals that flowed beneath their feet.

Thousands of years had passed since the fall of Valyria, and the known galaxy had all but forgotten the name Targaryen. House Corrino ruled unchallenged, the Bene Gesserit continued their manipulations, and the spice flowed as the lifeblood of the Imperium. The Targaryens, once feared and powerful, were now little more than a cautionary tale—a story told to remind the galaxy of the dangers of defying the throne.

But in the far reaches of space, beyond the gaze of the Emperor, beyond the Sisterhood’s influence, whispers had begun to circulate. Minor Houses in the fringe systems spoke in hushed tones of strange transactions, of peculiar spice shipments that defied the standard flow of commerce. Most notably, a small, unassuming House known as House Vex had begun to quietly sell a specific brand of spice to select, discreet buyers.

The spice itself was nothing extraordinary at first glance—reddish-brown in color, with the same faint glow that all melange possessed. Yet, when examined closely, it held properties that puzzled even the most skilled refiners. It resisted traditional refinement processes, requiring a unique method of rensfuration to unlock its full potency. And it was always purchased by the same anonymous entity, whose representatives never gave names, never left a trace.

Rumors swirled throughout the Imperium. Some said the spice had properties that could extend life far beyond what even melange could achieve. Others whispered that it had been tailored for use in genetic experimentation, perhaps even to create a superhuman race immune to the Bene Gesserit's influence. The most outlandish rumors claimed it was being used to resurrect a forgotten House, one whose bloodline had been immune to the Sisterhood’s powers millennia ago.

At first, the whispers were dismissed. Minor Houses always had their secrets, after all, and House Vex was hardly influential enough to warrant concern. But as more and more shipments of this peculiar spice quietly disappeared into the unknown universe, suspicions began to grow. The Spacing Guild noticed the irregularities in the spice routes, and the Bene Gesserit began to pay attention. Still, no one dared speak openly of it—House Corrino had no interest in encouraging the notion of a long-lost enemy returning from the shadows.

In truth, the rumors were closer to the truth than anyone realized.

Deep within the jungles of Albiron, the Targaryens had mastered the art of spice refinement—not for their own use, but for their dragons. The spice, in its raw form, had always been a valuable tool to extend human life and grant certain enhancements, but the Targaryens had discovered a very specific strain, a rare and potent variant that, when carefully refined, could do far more. It extended not just the lifespan of their dragons but enhanced their vitality, their strength, their fire. The dragons of Albiron, already magnificent creatures of fire and fury, became more resilient, more powerful than they had ever been in Valyria.

This strain of spice could only be harvested under particular conditions, and it required an even more delicate process of rensfuration, one that took years to perfect. The Targaryens had kept this secret for generations, using it only sparingly to ensure their dragons thrived in exile. And to maintain their anonymity, they allowed House Vex—a small House bound to them in loyalty for centuries—to sell a portion of the raw spice to the wider galaxy, hiding the true purpose of the refined strain.

The transactions were always discreet, the buyers carefully selected to ensure that no one could trace the spice back to Albiron. Yet despite all their precautions, the galaxy had begun to take notice. The mystery surrounding the spice—and the shadowy figures who bought it—grew with each passing year.

The Bene Gesserit, ever watchful, sensed a disturbance in the patterns of the Imperium. Though they could not put their finger on it, the Sisterhood had learned to listen for the subtle currents of power that ran through the universe, and something was shifting. The idea that a House immune to their influence could have survived all these years in secret sent a ripple of unease through their ranks. They began to dig deeper, their agents searching for any clue that might lead them to the source of the rumors.

House Corrino, too, grew wary. The spice trade was the lifeblood of the Empire, and any irregularity in its flow could have disastrous consequences. The Emperor’s spies were dispatched to the farthest corners of the galaxy, though none returned with answers.

Still, the rumors persisted. The spice that had no clear origin. The mysterious buyers from beyond known space. The possibility that a forgotten House might yet live.

In the halls of the Imperium, no one spoke openly of House Targaryen. To do so would invite questions that no one wanted to answer. But in the dark corridors of power, in the quiet whispers between those who dealt in secrets, the name began to surface again.

Targaryen.

Fire and blood.

The galaxy had forgotten them, but House Targaryen had never forgotten the galaxy. And as their dragons grew stronger, as their power in exile continued to build, they waited.

For one day, the whispers would no longer be rumors.

And when that day came, the stars themselves would tremble.

The scorching winds of Arrakis blew fiercely through the narrow streets of Arrakeen, carrying with them the dry scent of spice and the whispers of rebellion. The city, usually shrouded in an oppressive silence broken only by the occasional hum of machinery, now thrummed with tension. A crowd had gathered in the heart of the city, their faces hidden beneath hoods and veils to protect against the harsh sun, their voices rising in fervor as they listened to the woman who stood before them, bathed in the blood-red light of the setting sun.

She was known only as the Red Woman, a stranger from a distant corner of the galaxy, draped in flowing crimson robes that shimmered in the heat. Her eyes burned with an unnatural fire, and her voice, rich and commanding, seemed to cut through the dry air like a blade.

“Brothers, sisters,” she called out, her voice echoing through the square. “You have been deceived! For too long, the Bene Gesserit have whispered their lies into the ears of your leaders, guiding the hand of the Empire toward a future of darkness and death. But the Lord of Light has seen their evil, and He has sent me to show you the truth.”

The crowd murmured in agreement, their eyes locked on the Red Woman as she raised her hands, flames seemingly dancing at her fingertips.

“The night is dark and full of terrors,” she intoned, her voice growing louder. “But there is a light coming, a flame that will burn away the lies of the Bene Gesserit. The false messiah they prepare will lead to the deaths of billions! But the Prince That Was Promised, the true savior, will rise and deliver us from their evil.”

The crowd erupted into shouts of agreement, their fists raised toward the sky as the Red Woman’s message of salvation stirred their hearts. But not everyone in Arrakeen was so moved by her words.

From the shadows of a nearby alley, a figure emerged, flanked by a dozen Bene Gesserit acolytes. The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, her face etched with the lines of age and power, strode forward with the grace of a predator. Her sharp blue eyes took in the scene before her, the riotous crowd, the Red Woman at their center, and the burning passion in their eyes. She had seen such passion before, in other corners of the universe, and she knew well the danger it posed.

The Red Woman turned her gaze toward the Bene Gesserit as they approached, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Ah, the serpents come to silence me,” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “Do you fear the truth, Mother?”

Mother Mohiam’s expression remained unchanged as she stepped forward, her voice as cold as the sands of Arrakis at night. “You have no place here, woman. You are not of Arrakis, and you bring only chaos to these people. Leave this world, now, or you will face the consequences.”

The Red Woman laughed, the sound high and sharp, cutting through the murmur of the crowd. “I serve only the Lord of Light, not your false Empire or your twisted Sisterhood. You, who claim to see the future, who shape the paths of men to serve your own ends, are the true servants of darkness. You pave the way for a false messiah who will bring nothing but death and destruction to the universe.”

The Bene Gesserit acolytes shifted uneasily behind Mother Mohiam, but she stood firm, her eyes locked on the Red Woman. “You speak of a prophecy you do not understand,” she said. “The future is not for the untrained mind to glimpse. You meddle with forces beyond your comprehension.”

“The future is clear to those who serve the Light,” the Red Woman retorted. “Your Kwisatz Haderach, your so-called savior, will be the harbinger of death. He will lead the universe into a war that will consume entire worlds, killing billions. But the Prince That Was Promised will come, and he will burn away the lies you have sown.”

The crowd began to stir again, their fear and anger rising as the Red Woman’s words took hold. Mother Mohiam could feel the pulse of the mob, the heat of their desperation, and knew that if she did not act soon, this riot would spread like wildfire through the streets of Arrakeen.

“You play with fire,” Mother Mohiam said softly, stepping closer to the Red Woman. “And fire will consume you.”

The Red Woman smiled, her eyes gleaming. “The night is dark and full of terrors, Mother. You would do well to remember that.”

With that, the Red Woman raised her hands, and for a brief moment, flames flared at her fingertips once more before she stepped back into the shadows. Her followers, emboldened by her defiance, began to chant, their voices growing louder as they echoed her words.

“The night is dark and full of terrors. The Prince That Was Promised will come.”

Mother Mohiam watched as the Red Woman disappeared into the crowd, her eyes narrowing in thought. She had faced zealots before, had seen the power of faith wielded as a weapon. But this… this was something different. The Red Woman’s words echoed in her mind, unsettling her in a way few things ever had.

As the crowd began to disperse, the tension lingering in the air like the scent of spice after a storm, Mother Mohiam turned to her acolytes.

“Find her,” she said quietly. “Find her and bring her to me. We must know who she truly serves.”

For a moment, she stood in the empty square, the wind stirring the dust around her feet. She looked up at the burning sky, the twin suns casting long shadows across the desert, and a chill ran down her spine despite the heat.

The night is dark and full of terrors, indeed.

And Mother Mohiam knew that the terrors were only beginning.

- A/N: Let's see how well this does before I post another part.

[rei-ismyname]

X-Manhunt Chuck Hunt Omega Review

It's been a short and baffling road that's led us here to the finale of Chuck Hunt, but fortunately it's very easy to sum up for anyone coming in blind. Charles Xavier received a distress call from his Shi'Ar daughter Xandra and escaped from prison while affected by a brain tumor. Inconveniencing various X-Men along the way, he resurrected his long dead wife, Lilandra, and brought her up to speed. He's fucking off to space (again) with his imperialist bird wife (again) to heal a sickness (again.) It doesn't make any sense at all, so join me in the absurdity of disconnected action scenes and OOC moments before a big goodbye. Like Game of Thrones season 8, it looks great and makes little sense while blowing stuff up.

Frankly, I've found this event really frustrating. Chuck visited most of the X-books for an issue but the character and relationship payoffs have been slim. Exceptional X-Men handled it best by not having him appear at all, Red Skies Crossover style. Xavier has had a tremendous impact on everyone's life but he's only engaged with them performatively and superficially. It feels like he doesn't really care about the chaos he leaves in his wake, which is nothing new, and the resolution of his mission has been spoiled by solicits. I'm not mad about it, it's so ridiculous that I have to laugh.

In what's becoming a hallmark of From The Ashes, a flashback recontextualises the inter X-Men team dynamics. Scott thinks Xavier should stay in prison; Rogue disagrees and thinks Scott has some scheme requiring his absence, for reasons. Scott's dream speech is hilariously nonsensical while Rogue is just being obnoxious.

Gambit interjects before Scott can finish a sentence and Magik says what I've been thinking - 'what did Scott do?' What's the fucking problem, yo? We've seen in Uncanny that, yes, it is personal. Scott's name has been used as an insult. They relitigate the fall of Krakoa for some reason, with Rogue having an interesting summation. 'Taking out Phoenix' had only the broadest relationship to Krakoa's fall. Xavier surrendered due to ORCHIS sneaking a kill switch into Krakoan drugs, then he forced everyone through the gates. Rogue had the best view of anyone, as she carried Xavier to Krakoa where he broke down over thinking he'd killed everyone. She missed the rest because of Avengers duty.

The characters and the readers are both being gaslit into swallowing this tripe. I don't have room to show it, but Mystique is here to look sad. Mystique hates Chuck, and she should. Melee, Bronze, and the Outliers are here crying over a dude they've never met. Magneto has nothing to say, nor does Juggernaut. X-Manhunt has been a mishmash of discontinuity with motivations changing from page to page, let alone between issues. It's simply unbelievable that anyone would believe the narrative Chuck is selling, but that's what's on the page. There's no resolution here, no nod to history, recent or otherwise. Chuck is leaving and that's that, delusional goodbye speech and all.

I find it helpful to imagine circus music playing in the background of this discussion. Rogue has conspiracy theories, Gambit backs up Rogue, Scott is rendered speechless, and Magik tries to be the adult in the room. The only thing they achieve is a tentative alliance, something they probably had anyway. The best part is that none of this matters even a little bit. By the end they'll all be herded to where Chuck, ringleader of this circus, wants them.

Ilyana has multiple swords now, and Scott powers one up with optic blasts for THE RED SURFER! She could just teleport, but this is looks cooler. Why show tactics when you can go fucking cowabunga dudes! Lilandra is having a yarn to Chuck while giving him brain surgery, lol. It's standard curriculum for all Shi'Ar rulers. Gladiator could do this but he doesn't want to. She talks about her and Chuck feeling pain but it's overwhelmingly his 'children' that suffer. Obviously Yana is blown out of the sky, only to be caught by a demon Kaiju she summoned. Obviously.

Sage appears out of nowhere with John Wraith in tow, who has a robot Kaiju Sage borrowed from Storm. Yeah, Storm has Evangelion shit on her spaceship. Anyway, John speaks entirely in bible verse. They have a Kaiju fight, which wasn't on my Chuck Hunt bingo card, and Magik gets fucked up. SCARLET SCATTERSHOT! No onomatopoeia here - we're naming moves because it's just so 3P1C!!!1! Magik is explicitly said to be bleeding out but nobody takes it very seriously. She'll be fine.

Magik easily teleports Scott onto Mr and Mrs Avian's fleeing ship, so yes they could have done this at any time. In a Hallmark moment, Scott removes his visor with a single tear streaming down his face. That's how we know this is emotional. It's been ten minutes and the brain surgery is nearly done lol, but it's kinda irrelevant because Chuck sends his astral form to just talk to Scott.

Xavier says the most insane shit possible in his speculation as to why he's being pursued. 'I'm trying to bail on all my responsibilities after fucking you all over. Why are you chasing me?' Scott's muzzle is finally removed so he can tell this man how delusional he is. Xavier comes clean about his moronic schemes and then claims that he's sacrificed so much for others. Probably not the best argument for a child soldier whose life you controlled since he was 15. Who's spent his entire life bleeding for your dream, which you're giving up on. Chuck is actually mad that Scott doesn't get it, when he's kept everything a secret. What's more, Scott has zero reaction to this revelation. None. Chuck is leaving and there's no time to payoff even the meagre emotional stakes that were setup. Don't worry, they'll get shit on even further.

Obviously he's yeeted off the ship by an unnamed move. How can we tell what it is? My suggestion would be END OF ACT 2 BEAM! As Scott plummets to his death, the ringleader cracks the whip and X-Men come tumbling out of a clown car. Rogue catches him, in a completely unearned moment of solidarity. It's surprising, yes, in the same way a baby is surprised at peek-a-boo. There's no object permanence here as people just appear where they're needed for the next bombastic moment. Instead of being relieved, Scott feels that he's failed. That they'll be blamed for the mess Chuck left behind. It's a valid position, considering The O*N*E came for them over a lot less than this. He has a panic attack and starts shooting optic blasts everywhere. That's not how they work, but it doesn't matter. Just pretend everyone has a red nose on as the circus music intensifies.

Yep, that's definitely the most appropriate way to handle Scott's very real mental health issues. Stab the motherfucker. Only the homoeroticism of Logan gently penetrating his ex gives it any kind of grace. Circus music clashes with 'intimate violence in the rain' vibes but that's what Chuck Hunt is - disparate scenes that would be powerful with setup and context smashed together to elicit unearned emotional response.

I'm not even going to touch Logan's lengthy Super Saiyan speech. He says some dumb shit then stabs Scott in the gut. Rogue could have stopped this far more safely. The point is that Chuck is gone and they have to make their own way. Scott already knew that, in fact he knew it twenty years ago. Scott's dead and Xavier is in space.

Good news everyone! Scott is totally fine, despite the very lethal gut stabbing. Ilyana too. Xavier's tumor is fixed like the trifle it is and he's back already, having summoned an arbitrary group of mutants for an unearned goodbye. The guard that killed his family and the entire city of San Francisco? Fuck them, somebody else's problem. It takes some gall to make us jump through all these hoops and present dire problems (like Xandra) only to not pay them off at the end. In fact, they never mattered in the first place. Xandra is barely mentioned, just a McGuffin who's probably having her teeth pulled out with pliers.

We also learn that Xavier had some great soup here once. Nice!

Logan doesn't want to fight. Growth! He apologises for the trivial wound he gave Scott, who shrugs it off. I don't care what Brevoort says, this is flirting.

Xavier has the balls to say that mutants are choosing to fight each other, when that's clearly not true. It's also the reason he formed the X-Men - to beat down mutants who weren't behaving themselves. They were fighting because of you, buddy. For some reason nobody challenges this, nor his claim that he never wanted to be a general. Scott didn't either - you made him one. Shit, maybe we're still in Graymalkin and this is all a hallucination. It doesn't look anything like reality. I suppose it's a small price to pay for being rid of Chuck for a few years, but it's an audacious misrepresentation of X-Men history.

It's cost you? YOU? Motherfucker that is a terrible apology. 'Well, it's been tough for me, which I'm sorry for, and that's why I'm leaving. Good luck living in the mess I created. Catch you later when the MCU synergy comes.'

Emma kisses him on the cheek and tells him he deserves it. Why not? It's not like she hates him or anything. 🙄 Kids who have never met him or heard of him are crying but Scott has zero reaction. Nada. Contradicts everything we've been shown, even in this event. If that's what it takes to get rid of Chuck? Sure, see you later dude. Scott should start a school, you say? I know a great place for that, but it's been turned into a ghoulish prison due to someone's actions. Scott is at war with the USA - fortunately DOOM is building schools. Let's go with that. Maybe he's just exhausted with this man and his schemes within schemes. He should have known the chessmaster had a ruse going, one that gave him PTSD and fucked everything up.

There's so many things I could be mad about, but who has the energy? We jumped through flaming hoops to get here and ignored character moments that make any sense in favour of dizzying spectacle. As Gambit does cartwheels, the circus music plays Chuck out, and I choose to clap like a walrus. X-Manhunt wasn't very good - it wasn't trying to be good, but maybe the X-books can figure out a new Chuck-less thesis or identity. Imperial should be fun, and really we're just playing a familiar beat - Chuck bailing to space while the X-Men get on with their lives. Nice to see he's recovered quickly from brain surgery too. Good for him, and nice work Lilandra.

[athynathens]

chapter two : fancy ass bird

“So you’re a fancy ass bird? That’s your quirk?”

PAIRING. Bakugo Katsuki x Amphyr Domino (m-free)

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. This short story is a crossover between the Boku no Hero Academia world and Winx Club world. It will take place after the battle with All for One and Shigaraki. Let’s just all assume that the villains are defeated and everything is back to normal.

SYNOPSIS. Bakugo’s sudden request took Amphyr off guard, now she is contemplating whether or not if she should accept it or not. However, Bakugo’s remarks about her identity made her rethink her decisions. Now she’s debating if she should accept his damn sudden request — a fight.

WARNINGS. None :)

AUTHOR’S NOTES. So incase yalls won’t get it as you read, Amphyr’s on her Harmonix stage already!! Now, i am contemplating what color scheme she should have, do yalls have any ideas? if you do hit me up in the comments or pms!!

TAGS. @lovra974 @selmasemlan @andysdrafts @citrustsuki . If you want to be tagged, comment down below!!

amphyr domino’s profile | the world in betweens masterlist

“FIGHT ME” Bakugo calmly spoke, his hands were on his pockets. The cold night breezed around his black sleeveless shirt, as the leaves flew up in the skies of twilight.

Moonlight shone down on Amphyr, emphasizing her brown locks dancing with the wind. Her eyes went wide, blinking thrice before saying, “Heh?”

When he didn’t react, Amphyr knew that he was fucking serious. That’s when she finally screamed, “HEHHHH?!?”

Her screamed caused birds flying off the trees, causing leaves to fall down. She moved back a bit, shivering from that request. “We haven’t talk in months, and this is the first thing you ask of me?!?”

“Don’t be such a fucking pussy. We exchanged greetings in the hallways, didn’t we?” Bakugo clicked his tongue, looking away briefly.

“THAT WAS BARELY A GREETING!” She retorted, remembering the times when she would greet this explosive student, and he would just walk past by her and hum in response.

The blond rolled his eyes, “At least I fucking responded!”

She sighed, bringing her hand to the temple of her nose and asked, “Why are you even asking me to suddenly fight you? The latter rubbed it, her forehead aching from this sudden request.

“Because you ain’t from here, aren’t ya, fucking Croissant?” He spoke out, catching her off guard.

She gulped, trying to stay composed. “Of course, I’m not. I am a foreigner after all.”

Small blasts exploded from his palm. “Foreigner…” He chuckled lightly. “As in you’re a fucking white person or…” He asked, staring at his palm emerging explosions.

His red orbs snapped to his front, staring at her soul deeply “….you’re someone from another world?”

“A-Another world? Don’t joke with me, Bakugo-kun. T-There’s no such thing as—” She was interrupted by a loud blast. The next thing she knew is that she’s being held by the collar of her shirt.

Bakugo held her up so high, her feet are not touching the ground anymore. “Don’t fucking give me that bullshit!!” He exploded, causing her to fall back to a tree harshly.

This heavy impact made her back hurt, choking a bit of blood from her mouth. With shaking legs, she used her wrist to wipe out the blood from the corner of her mouth. She panted, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Bakugo-kun.”

The blond clenched his jaw in annoyance, hate being stalled when he asked a question. “That’s fucking bullshit. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the past months. Your fucking so-called quirk? I analyzed that shit. The fucking blast on my face, the shitty barrier you made, the damn power wave you caused? Those quirks already belonged to someone.”

“Those blasts? That’s my fucking quirk, and you sure as hell are not related to me or my parents. Never seen you in any of our family meetings nor have I heard of you. The damn barrier? That fucking belongs to that villain that Shitty hair fought when saving that white-haired brat,” He continued, making her pale up in fear.

“And that power wave? That goddamn quirk is similar to Nejire-Senpai’s quirk, but there’s no way in hell you’ll be related to her. She’s a fucking talks for shits, she wouldn’t miss the chance to talk with anyone, especially to a relative,” He added, causing Amphyr to be agitated by the fact he is closed in knowing the truth.

When she thought it was over, there were still more to her surprise…

“From where I’m from, you’re called a dwarf,” Bakugo repeated the words she said to Mineta in the past.

“Does that sound familiar to you, Croissant?” The blond’s side mouth lifted. Amphyr can only stay silent, knowing that her defending right now will make everything else so much obvious.

“From where I’m from,” He repeated slowly, staring at his fingers as he stretched them.

“That means something else, right? The where is definitely not a damn place in the US, Europe or any part of this world, ain’t that right?” He asked, doing one small blast in his palm.

Suddenly, he grinned and released a blast towards to Amphyr, “The where is in a place that’s not in this fucking world, right?!?”

Her eyes went wide, immediately reacting to the blasts so she flipped to her right, doing a back tuck tumbling to save herself. When she landed on the grass, one knee up and the other on the ground, Bakugo chuckled as he releases more blasts from his palms.

“So let me ask, fucking extra…” He rasped, blasting some of his quirk in the air. “…who the fuck are you?”

Amphyr breath in and out a couple of times, contemplating if she needs to come up with a lie or not. It’s not like her family is asking her to keep her identity a secret since a small town called Gardenia knows about fairies already. However, she likes it better if no one knows who she truly she is. It’s like she’s reliving her life once more; doing a reset, a break, a rest from her usual life as the Crown Princess of Domino and one of Alfea’s prodigy.

“Before I answer,” She panted, standing up from the ground. “Why did you ask to fight me?”

Bakugo’s jaw clenched in annoyance, he hates being stalled when he asked a question after all. But if she means to cooperate, then he can let this go.

The latter clicked his tongue, placing both of his hands on his pockets. “I already fucking knew that you’re some kind of being from another world so I decided to fight you. Fighting someone who’s from another fucking world sounds fun to me after all.”

Amphyr’s eyes soften, the light on her eyes vanished. “So you’ll really give it your all to fight me or you’ll just hesitate and make it easy for me because I’m a fai—something…?”

She recalled the amount of times she was understimated as a fairy. In Magix, there is a division of work between men and women, fairy and specialist, and princess and princes.

If you’re a woman, a fairy and a damn princess, you will be an object of protection, hence, people mistakenly saw Amphyr as weak and timid.

Amphyr’s hands clenched in annoyance, remembering the amount of times she asked for a fair battle from her fairy friends; they took it too easy to her as they were afraid to harm the princess. She recalled the time when she opened up to her friends that she wants to practice fighting. But, they degraded her by gaslighting that her powers are enough. They even emphasized that fist fights are supposed to be for the males only.

Honestly, the only person who understood her was her mother, Daphne of Domino. As the Supreme Nymph, she was hard on Amphyr. She taught her everything that a Nymph should do and follow. She trained her till she sweats to dawn. She fought with her as if she was an enemy. She coached her like a warrior fairy.

However as a mother too, she also had to hold back in certain aspects, especially when they duel together.

Since then, no one has given her the fight she fucking desires the most — a fair fight.

“HAH?!?” Bakugo’s loud voice echoed. “Are you fucking with me? Ya looking down on me, aren’t you?!? You think I’ll go easy on you? In your goddamn dreams, fucking extra!”

Amphyr’s eyes twinkled, light of hope counterclockwise her pupils. “W-Will you really give it your all?” She stuttered, wanting confirmation.

The blond clicked his tongue, “You’re underestimating me, aren’t ya, damn Croissant!?!” He roared, squatting a bit while releasing small blasts from his palms. “I don’t give a shit on who or what you are! Just fucking fight me!”

She felt the sincerity of his words. Will I really get the fight I want from him? The side of her mouth twitches, she can’t contain her excitement any longer.

“You better not hold back, Bakugo,” She sternly told, closing her eyes.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do. It is you that should not hold back! Don’t even think of using my rehab as a damn excuse,” He smirked, licking his lips from the adrenaline rush flowing through his body.

Swirls of winds surrounded her, the strands of her hair flowed gracefully with the wind. Amphyr opened her eyes to reveal her glowing pupils of gold, “You asked for it, Bakugo.”

The blond flinched, witnessing her newly formed aura. He saw her jumped to the sky, screaming a word he didn’t know. That’s when a ball of glowing magic surrounded her. Soon, the magic ball exploded, revealing Amphyr in wings.

Bakugo was left at awed. His so-called Croissant does not look like an extra at all in the sky — she looks like more of a celestial ethereal being.

He watched as her long skirt flew side by side, being one with the night breeze. The latter noticed long ribbons attached on both of her legs, those ribbons were connected to some-kind of high heeled sandles. His eyes moved up to her upper body, it was a top with one strap to her right side and it was decorated with ruffles like a ball gown.

His red orbs shone a bit when he finally saw her face. Amphyr’s eyes blazed up with determination while her hair moved in the same direction as the wind carries. The sea shell tiara on her forehead emphasized her royalty aura to him.

Amphyr channelled her magic energy to both of her hands, releasing fire then circled her arms to the top. She looked down to Bakugo and roared, “Don’t you dare hold back on me now, Bakugo!! You need to keep your damn promise!!” She threw the ball of fire towards him.

Smokes from the fireball scattered all over the ground. Amphyr’s wings flapped foward, in hope to find him easier, yet suddenly a loud blast from behind. Her eyes quivered, feeling an ominous sensation rushing towards her from behind. With the support of her wings, she flipped in the air and that’s when she noticed Bakugo grinning in excitement.

When he landed back in the ground, he yelled, “I ain’t holding back for nothing, Croissant!! This shit’s getting better!! Fight me!” He blasted up in the sky.

She used her wings to accelerate her movements. The brunette brought her arm back, chanting a small spell on her fist. After the enchantment is finished, she toughen her fist.

The blond’s smirk widen, almost smiling at her attack towards him. He placed more power on his palm then yelled, “DIE!”

The two collided, causing a strong drift of wind to hover through the forest.

Bakugo and Amphyr fought in the air, blasting each other with their quirks. The blond kept using his quirk to avoid her attacks, but he had a hard time dodging them. Since he had no idea what her quirk is, Amphyr became unpredictable.

He can only click his tongue in annoyance, realizing that he has no clue who he is fighting.

Meanwhile with Amphyr, her reputation as a support student has its uses. She knows what fighting style what Bakugo is into. She took advantage of her knowledge to battle this student hero.

The sounds of small explosions appeared from his palm, he aimed it to her midair and blasted it out.

Bakugo smirked, thinking he had won but to his suprised, he saw Amphyr flying above his explosion. His body shivered in excitement and screamed, “Not bad, Croissant!!” He used his explosion to rotate his body, accelerating his movements towards Amphyr.

The two fought like there’s no tomorrow. Explosions, blasts, waves, omitted around the forest. The smell of burnt wood surrounded the area, the trunk of most trees broke in half with a hint of fire and water around it.

Suddenly, a robot drone flew over them. “Hey! Who’s there?!?” It screamed, accelerating it’s movements to capture the people in the act.

Amphyr and Bakugo were quick to react, hiding among the trees. They used the trees with the most leaves which can help camouflage their presence. As their heard their robot drone flying away, the two sighed in relief.

The two had the time to catch their breath, wiping their sweat and panting their lungs out. The blond looked to his side to see her outfit a bit ripped from the blasts, her face covered with ash and some burns. Her soft arms covered with scars while her fair legs were covered with debris of soil and dirt.

“You look like shit,” He panted.

Amphyr looked at him. He was covered with ashes and burns from each other’s quirks. His black shirt was ripped, revealing his abs and scars from his previous battles. His arms bulged as he moved, showcasing his veins.

“Your arm, how is it? Nothing’s wrong with it, right?” She asked, wiping some ash off her face.

He chuckled, “Don’t worry about me. ‘M fucking fine.”

Her eyes traveled down to his injured arm, it was shaking a bit from overusing it. She sighed, “Sit your ass down, Bakugo-kun. I’ll heal you.”

His eyebrow arched, “Don’t tell me what to fucking d—” He was silenced by a spell chanted by Amphyr.

He muffled through his mouth, trying to speak but he couldn’t in the end. The vein on his forehead became more prominent as his eyes turned white in irritation. The next thing he knew he was floating a bit, then he settled on the ground.

The brunette sat down in front of him, placing both her legs on one side. She stared at him for a brief moment while grabbing his arm. Amphyr snapped her fingers then swiped them left and right while moving her hand down.

Bakugo watched as golden flakes traveled down his injured arm. He felt his arm feeling less painful. She swiped her two fingers up, releasing the silence spell from his mouth. The brunette carefully turned his arm around, double checking for more injuries or anything.

“I didn’t completely heal your arm cause that’s not how magic really works. The injury is still there. I just enhanced the healing process by—Bakugo Katsuki,” She was interrupted when he spoke his full name.

“I-I’m sorry…?” She asked with confusion.

He stared at her again, not breaking eye contact. “That’s my fucking name. Bakugo Katsuki.”

Amphyr stared at him with bafflement again, unsure why he is introducing himself again. As she thinks, she finally realized what he was doing.

He’s acknowledging me…The brunette smiled, realizing that his introduction is a new beginning to their relationship chapter. The fact he is introducing himself to her shows a declaration of her strength.

“Amphyr Domino,” She smiled, not breaking eye contact with him.

He grinned, satisfied that she understood what he was implying.

“So, you’re gonna fucking explain who you are? You weren’t entirely trying to hide your fucking quirks from me anyway. Those blasts? The fire? The water? And this damn healing? Just who the fuck are you? And why the hell do you have so many quirks?” He asked, removing his arm from her grip.

“Remember when you asked if I was a princess?” She asked.

His eyes went wide, “No fucking way. You’re a princess?” He caught on very quickly. “So what? Am I supposed to bow down or some shit?”

She shook her head and pleaded, “Please don’t.”

“Okay good, cause wasn’t fucking planning to.”

Amphyr rolled her eyes, slightly hitting him on the chest. Bakugo stared at her with wide eyes, his eyes gave the ‘what’ look which annoyed her a bit further.

“You really have the ability to annoy people, huh?” Her eyebrow twitched violently, a vein on her neck became slowly prominent.

“It’s a fucking gift, Croissant,” He placed his tongue out while revealing his middle finger to her.

The brunette sighed in aggravation. The latter crawled to sit beside him against the tree trunk. She placed her head back, positioning her legs on one side. “But yep, you’re right though. I am a princess.”

He leaned his head back, gazing at his side to look at her. “Princess of what exactly?”

“Domino — Princess of Domino.”

“Hah? Isn’t that your last name?”

“Y-Yeah…I forgot this world requires a last name so when U.A. asked what my last name is…well…I kinda panicked and just said Domino…” She answered, remembering how she just screamed her kingdom’s title as her last name.

He scoffed playfully, “You fucking serious? You panicked because you forgot? Goddamn, Croissant. You better fucking tell me what you are or else I’ll think you're a damn alien or something.”

A vein in her forehead appeared, “I’m not an alien, you damn moron!” She faced him completely, pointing at him aggressively.

“Then what are you?” He questioned, bringing one knee up and placing his elbow on that knee.

“I’m many things, but I’m mostly known as a fairy,” She responded.

A sudden wind breezed upon both of them, causing their clothes and hair to dance with the wind as one.

“So you’re a fancy ass bird? That’s your quirk?”

“What the fu—fine yes, if that’s how you interpreted it.”

Bakugo looked at her briefly before gazing up in the night sky. “Fairy, huh? So you do magic or some type of shit?”

She sighed at his poor choice of language. “Yes, Bakugo-kun. I do magic, but it’s a bit different from quirks. Magic is quite flexible compared to quirks, but like all wonderful things, it does have limitations. I guess an example is when I silenced you. That’s a common spell for fairies. Let’s say you say the chantment, you can’t silence someone since you’re not a fairy. This means that as long as you’re a fairy, you can chant the common spells. This also applies in witchery.”

He listened attentively as Amphyr continued. “What differentiates each fairy is their chosen ability from birth. An example is my Aunt Bloom; she’s the Fairy of the Dragon Flame or my Aunt Flora; She’s the Fairy of Nature. These attributes help people differentiate us from other fairies.”

“What ‘bout you? What you’re the fairy of, Croissant?” He asked.

The brunette stared at him for a moment, trying to think of a satisfying answer. “It’s a bit complicated…”

Bakugo clicked his tongue, “Fucking try me, Extra.”

Calling a princess extra really shows what character he is. She sighed, “Okay, if you insist. I’m only classified as a fairy for now since I have not yet reached a certain level, but I’m really a Nymph.” She responded, but he just gave her a perplexed expression.

“A Nymph is one of the oldest magical creatures of my realm. They hold greater powers than any other fairy because the possess more than one power. In my case, I can manipulate any elements like fire, water, ice and others,” She added.

“WHAT THE FUCK? You’re old?!?” Bakugo blasted, creating tiny blasts from his palms in shocked.

Amphyr twitched in anger, slapping his left arm. “I’m not old, dumbass!! I’m literally 17 like you!! I was born from a Nymph, fool!”

“You didn’t fucking specify that shit!!”

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t even done explaining, moron!”

Bakugo clicked his tongue again, leaning back a bit more while placing his hands on his pockets. “You seemed like a strong motherfucker. Heck, you’re even a damn princess. So what’s a princess like you doing here in Japan anyway?”

Amphyr’s eyes soften with his question. “That’s a story for another time.”

His eyes turned white and exploded, “There is no other time!!”

She was caught off guard with his sudden explosion. But she was quick enough to understand what’s happening. Amphyr definitely does not want Bakugo to leave just like that after giving her that fight. This blond has given her the fight she wanted, and she sure as hell want to experience it again.

“How about this,” She spoke. “If you fight with me again, then I can tell you all about me and where I’m from.”

Bakugo scoffed, “What makes you think that I want to fight with you again, Croissant?”

Amphyr grinned, swiping her one arm to the side which released a strong wind that sliced up trees in half. “Because I didn’t show you everything yet, Bakugo-kun,” She kept her cocky smirk as the trees fell harshly to the ground.

“I’m sure you don’t want to miss a fight with someone like me after all,” She added.

“Are you playing with me, damn Croissant?” He chuckled, somehow getting fired up again.

“No, of course not. After all, you should consider yourself lucky because….” She stopped her words. “….you’re fighting with Domino’s precious princess, you big moron.”

His eyes flared up, feeling his adrenaline boosting through his veins. As much as he hates to admit it, a fight with Amphyr again is an exhilarating offer.

Over the course of their fight, he had witnessed her combat style — he could conclude she was definitely strong, hence why he didn’t back down and kept his guard up.

She’s strong in all places he can think of, but Amphyr’s main strength lies in strategy. He noticed that she’s quite observant with his tactics so she would carefully strategized on the spot.

Additionally, he also noticed that she would aim her powers at his left area, she was so careful not to aim too much on his right injured arm. Bakugo looked down at his injured arm, reminiscing the moments of his battle with Shigaraki.

Ba-tump…

His heartbeat made a sound he never anticipated.

Ba-tump…

There it goes again. Another beat on his heart.

“—ugo? Bakugo? BAKUGO!” His train of thoughts were interrupted.

His eyes quivered, looking around his area then looking up to see a small blasts on her palm.

“Oi. Were you ‘bout to slap me with that?” He pointed at her palm which was creating small blasts already.

“Uhh…n-no…?” She replied, immediately distinguishing her blasts from her palm.

Bakugo’s eye twitched. “Fucking Croissant! Don’t lie to me! I saw that shit!”

“….”

His entire body twitched violently, not liking that she isn’t responding. “At least fucking answer!!” His vision turned white and explosions occurred in the forest.

previous chapter next chapter

[aprocessionofthoughts]

A Haunting

dannymay day 26 art/fic switch

dp x dc crossover

1905 words

Danny was so done with Skulker. It was one thing to chase him and try to catch him to hang his skiing above the mantle, but it was a totally different thing to yeet him into an alternate timeline/dimension. Danny didn’t really care which. And he was extra annoying about it too. 

Skulker had been chasing Danny through Amity when a natural portal had opened up. Danny had been distracted and Skulker had used the opportunity to grab him and throw him through the portal,

And that was it. 

And so here Danny was who knows where, who knows when, for who knew how long. Well, Clockwork knows but that’s the equivalent of no one knowing because the Ancient doesn't know how to communicate.

Maybe Danny should sick Jazz on him to teach him the importance of communication. And also sick her on Skulker to teach him that it’s rude to launch your adversaries into unknown portals.

But first things first. He was hungry and required sustenance, preferably the greasy kind. 

Invisibly and intangibly he floated down to search for some food. Just in time to miss a bat swooping down onto the roof.

=-=-=-

Red Hood had been in the middle of…persuading one of Falcone’s members to talk when he saw a flash of green in the corner of his vision. He tossed the man aside and turned to see a crack in the sky the same color as the Lazarus pits open up above an abandoned apartment building. He could just see something falling through before the crack in the sky closed up. 

He was moving before he really thought about it.

It took him less than 5 minutes to land on the building's roof but as far as he could see there was nothing.

He hesitated for a moment before reaching up to his com.

“Oracle, I need you to pull up any feeds around the old Adam Apartments.”

“What am I looking for?”

“You’ll know when you see it.”

“What do you mean… oh. I’m patching everyone else in.”

“What is it, Oracle?” came NItghwing’s voice amidst the sounds of fighting.

“Hood spotted an anomaly over the Adam Apartments. It looked like a Lazarus Pit.

There was silence for a moment, then…

“What do you mean a Lazarus Pit!?”

“Are there any League members nearby?”

“Do we know where Talia is?”

“Are you sure Hood saw a pit?”

“Quiet! Hood tell us what happened.: came B’s voice.

“I was doing some business when I spotted a green tear in the sky. Something or someone fell out but when I got to the building I couldn’t find anything.”

“Alright, Nightwing heads over to Hood’s position and help investigate. Oracle, keep looking through any nearby cameras.  Everyone else, stick to your normal patrols and keep a lookout for any other anomalies.

A chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ and ‘will do , B’ sounded before the coms fell quiet.

=-=-

After Danny had eaten, a burger he had to swipe because apparently money was different in this dimension, he decided to explore. After all, there wasn’t much he could do except wait for a natural portal to show up. He stopped a few crimes because why not. And, he had to admit, it was hilarious to spook people with his slightly more eldritch form. Though, the muttering about another bat was confusing.

After flying through the shadier parts of town he came across some large mansions. And, well, Danny had always wanted to try his hand at haunting. 

-=-=-

Danny had only just started exploring the mansion and he had already found out that the owners were either furries or vigilantes. Then again, this was a different dimension. Maybe everyone here had secret basements and furry costumes. Danny shouldn’t assume. Then again again, his parents had a secret basement (kind of) and he was a vigilante (kind of). So, he totally had the right to assume. And judge. Who dressed up like bats and traffic lights?

Though, it would be cool to have a whole big lair with lots of gadgets instead of just hiding things under floorboards and in walls.

At least now he knew why the criminals he scared kept muttering about bats. 

But now it was time to start haunting!

-=-=

Time knew he should be in bed. Had been told repeatedly that he should go to bed. Had been  threatened that if he didn’t go to bed there would be consequences. But, well… he was technically in bed. Even if he wasn’t sleeping, or resting, he was sitting in bed. That had to count for something. Besides, he’d sleep as soon as he finished updating this case file. Maybe. He reached for his cup of coffee (decaf if anyone asked) and went to take a sip. But nothing came out. Tim frowned; he was sure he had just refilled it recently. That’s why he kept the secret coffee maker in his closet. He looked away from his computer to his cup and his frown deepened. His coffee was frozen.

-=-=-

Dick was staying at the manor over the weekend to help finish up a case which would probably now be delayed because of the Lazarus green anomaly that had been spotted. Oh well, that was a worry for tomorrow. Right now he was ready for a nice hot shower to relax his muscles and then a good sleep before waking up to a delicious Alfred made breakfast. 

After walking out of the shower he found his window open. Dick frowned. That was strange. He was sure the window had been closed. He shrugged, it was probably one of his siblings. He closed it and went to pull his sleepwear on. He was about to turn his lamp off when he saw that the window was open. He narrowed his eyes. He closed it again and watched it, but nothing happened. He turned towards his bed when he heard the window opening. He turned quickly but there was no one there and the window was open again.

-=-=-=

Damien had just laid down when his door creaked open.

“Who is it?” 

No one answered. Damien huffed and got up to close the door. It was probably Drake or maybe Todd. Regardless, Damien thought as he walked back to his bed, he would find out who and would show that they shouldn't mess with an Al’ Ghul.

His door creaked open again and Damien growled as he stalked open and slammed the door closed. Before he could turn around the door creaked open.

Damien inspected the door but couldn’t see how someone would be opening it remotely. 

He closed it again and when nothing happened headed back to bed. Had just closed his eyes several minutes later when the door opened again.

=-=-=

Jason had debated going to his safehouse but, and he wouldn’t admit this to anyone except maybe Alfred, he was nervous. Anything related to the Pits made him nervous. He didn’t want to fall back into a murderous rage. So, he’d stay at the manor just for tonight.

He still felt a little off. The Pit felt like it was stirring, but he didn’t feel angry. It felt like the Pit was calling out to something. Jason tried to ignore it as he made his way to his room where he hung up his leather jacket. Which promptly fell down. Jason rolled his eyes and picked up, he shivered his room felt colder than usual. He hung his jacket up and turned around only to hear it fall again. He scowled. If one of his brothers had done something…. But no, the hook looked normal and his jacket was fine.

But it wouldn’t stay hung up! Everytime he hung it up it promptly fell back down.

Well fine! If it wanted to lie on the ground then it would stay there. He was going to bed.

-=-=

Bruce was typing up tonight's report on the Batcomputer when the screen shut down. He frowned, The Batcomputer wasn’t supposed to randomly shut down. He turned it on but when he clicked on the report it opened up a video with some music video with some guy sign ‘never gonna give you up.’ Bruce scowled harder and clicked out and went back to the file. But this time when he tried typing no matter what keys he hit the only words that appeared on screen were the same lyrics.

He sighed. This was undoubtedly one of his kids trying to get him to go to bed. But just in case.

“Oracle, is there anything wrong with the Batcomputer?”

“Not that I can tell. Oh wait.”

Bruce tensed.

Oracle sounded like she was laughing.

“What is it?” 

“It looks like someone activated the “Rick Roll Procedure.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about, it was probably one of the boys.”

“Oracle, what’s the “Rick Roll Procedure”?

“Sorry, B. Got to go.” she signed off.

Bruce grunted. Fine, he’d go to bed, if only to please Alred.

=-=

Alfred was in the kitchen beginning preparation for tomorrow's breakfast. The scone dough was ready, all he needed to do was add the apples and then he could b=put it in the fridge to bake tomorrow. When he reached for the bowl containing the pre-cut apples his hand found nothing. He turned and saw that the bowl of apples had been moved farther away and a bag of chocolate chips had been placed near his mixing bowl. Alfred raised an eyebrow and went to retrieve the apples, but just as he reached it the bowl slid further away. 

Alfred froze. He looked around the kitchen but didn’t see any of the boys. But his eyes caught on an odd shimmer in the air near the apples.

Well then.

“Hello, there. I was unaware we had a guest. If you’ll allow me to take the apples I’ll make another batch of scones with chocolate chips.”

Nothing happened for a moment, but the bowl of apples slid towards him.

“Thank you very much.” Alfred said before returning to his work. He’d let Master Bruce know tomorrow morning that they might have a new family member soon.

=-=-=-

The next morning at breakfast there was much glaring and staring at one another through squinted eyes trying to establish guilt.

Finally, Damian spoke up. “Alright, which of you kept childishly opening my door?”

“What are you talking about? The real question is who messed with my coat hanger?” Jason said, pointing his fork at Damian.

“Well someone kept opening my window.”

“And someone froze my coffee.”

“What are you boys talking about?” Bruce said, setting down his newspaper.

“Someone’s been messing with things around the manor and it wasn’t me,” Jason said.

“We’re being haunted!” Dick said with way too much enthusiasm.

“What?” Bruce asked, sounding somewhere between confused and concerned, a common occurrence when it came to his sons.

“Are you discussing our guest?” Alfred asked as he came in carrying two plates of scones. “It is thanks to them that we are having both apple cinnamon and chocolate chip scones.”

A clamor arose.

“What!

“Who?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What is their purpose here?”

Alfred cleared his throat and everyone fell silent. “Perhaps, they’d like to introduce themselves?” He looked toward the back corner of the room, one eyebrow raised.

Everyone turned to stare just as a floating figure materialized. “Hi, I’m Danny, you’re resident Casper.”

[dailydegurechaff]

Now what if. Here me out, Tanya meets the legend himself. The King of the Skies. Manfred von Richtofen aka The Red Baron

Today's Daily Degurechaff is… a crossover with... a real human man

... im gonna be honest i dont know what to do here

[scribbly-squid]

Sympathy for the Devil

Lucifer x F!Hunter Reader

SPN x Hazbin Hotel Crossover



You have been hunting alongside the Winchester brothers for a while, your life consumed by the hunt. But for the past few months, you have been tormented by vivid, unsettling visions. As you start to uncover the truth behind these haunting vision, you’re driven to find the mysterious woman from them. But what will happen when you cross paths with a certain fallen angel who has taken an interest in you?

🌻Another chapter posted so soon?! Who knew I had it in me.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / Masterlist

Chapter 2

A man dressed in a pristine black suit walked up the cobblestone path, his polished shoes gleaming in stark contrast to the blood-red skies overhead. With a swift motion, he straightened out any creases in his jacket and approached the large door, knocking firmly. Behind it, the sound of commotion made him roll his eyes, though he quickly composed himself as the door creaked open.

Standing before him was a slender woman, her striking features bearing an unmistakable resemblance to her father. She beamed at him with a welcoming grin.

“Hi there! Looking for redemption? You’ve come to the right place!” she chirped.

The man resisted the urge to cringe, instead offering a well-practiced smile as he gave her a formal bow. "You must be the Princess of Hell, Charlotte."

The woman awkwardly laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “Uh, yes, that’s me. But Charlie is fine. Really, no need to bow or anything.”

She gestured for him to stop, but the man didn’t rise from his bow until he deemed he’d shown enough respect. When he finally stood upright, his sharp brown eyes met hers—bright red irises with yellow sclera, radiating hope. It was the kind of hope reserved for the souls she aimed to redeem, those seeking a way back into Heaven.

“Very well, Miss Charlie,” he said, his tone still formal.

Charlie winced at his insistence on addressing her with such formality, but let it slide. However, as she inspected the man more closely, her cheerful demeanor faded. Recognition dawned on her, and with it, disappointment.

"I'm afraid I'm not here for redemption," the man continued, his voice smooth but firm. "My interests lie elsewhere. I work on Hell’s behalf on Earth and have done so for quite some time. But that’s neither here nor there. I’ve come seeking someone."

Charlie’s face brightened a little, the hopeful tone returning. “Oh! Are you looking for one of our residents? I can fetch them for you.”

Before the man could respond, hurried footsteps approached from within the hotel. A figure stepped in front of Charlie, arm outstretched protectively. They stood tall, glaring up at the man who had so easily infiltrated their space. The visitor’s smile widened as he recognized the figure standing before him.

"Hello again, Lucifer. It’s been quite some time, hasn’t it?"

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you doing here, Crowley?"

[ . . . ]

Lucifer glared at Crowley, who sat across from him in the hotel’s parlor, leisurely sipping tea as if they were old friends. The serene atmosphere of the parlor, with its warm tones and soft lighting, was a far cry from the tension simmering between them. To Lucifer’s dismay, his daughter Charlie had insisted this would be a "great exercise" in managing his temper—something she believed he desperately needed, especially when it came to dealing with those who provoked him as much as Crowley did.

Had Lucifer been the one to answer the door, Crowley wouldn’t have made it past the threshold. A flick of his fingers, and the demon would have been reduced to ashes for daring to show his face in front of him. But Charlie had intervened with those wide, pleading eyes of hers, and against his better judgment, Lucifer had relented. He would hear what Crowley had to say, though his patience was hanging by a thread.

The silence between them was palpable, broken only by the delicate clink of Crowley’s teacup and the distant murmurs of hotel residents from downstairs. Lucifer's eyes narrowed, and after a few more moments of watching Crowley sip his tea with infuriating calmness, he finally broke the silence.

"Why in the seven rings of Hell are you here, Crowley?" he growled, his voice laced with venom.

Crowley opened his mouth, no doubt ready with one of his usual snide remarks, but Lucifer quickly added, his tone darker, "And don’t you dare say you’re here sightseeing or some shit like that."

Crowley smirked, setting his teacup gently on the table in front of him. He met Lucifer’s piercing red gaze with a smug glint in his brown eyes. “Rest assured, Your Majesty, I’m not here to stir up old grudges. Not like before, of course,” he said, his tone laced with mock civility.

Lucifer’s grip tightened around the apple-shaped head of his cane, his knuckles whitening. The air around him seemed to darken. "Watch it," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Crowley remained unfazed, lounging back in his seat as if Lucifer's threats were nothing more than idle chatter. "I'm here on business, Your Majesty," he said, the smirk never leaving his face.

Lucifer scoffed at the very idea. “Whatever you’re offering, my answer is no. I don’t care what it is.”

Crowley leaned forward slightly, his expression growing more serious, though the glint of amusement never left his eyes. “Oh, I think you might want to hear me out this time. After all, what I’m offering could be of mutual interest.”

But Lucifer wasn’t biting. He had no patience for whatever scheme Crowley had up his sleeve, no matter how enticing it sounded. His eyes narrowed further, his voice cold as he repeated, “No.”

Crowley sighed in frustration, letting his head fall into one of his hands. He rubbed his face wearily before fixing Lucifer with a sharp look. “Fine, stay on your high horse. But you’ll want to rethink that once you realize you can’t control unauthorized Hellborn slipping onto Earth. They're messing up my business, my carefully crafted empire, and if you can’t handle it, I will have to intervene!”

His voice rose with anger, the sharp edge of his words slicing through the tension in the room. His glare matched Lucifer’s, the weight of his threat hanging in the air.

Lucifer remained still, trying not to show any reaction, though his mind raced. Crowley wasn’t bluffing. As much as he hated to admit it, unauthorized Hellborn running rampant could spiral into chaos—not just for Crowley’s operations, but for Hell’s delicate balance. He couldn’t let this stand. The idea of Crowley, of all demons, coming to him with a genuine issue gnawed at him.

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, but his tone remained cold. “Crowley, I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play, but only authorized Hellborn are permitted on Earth. I’ve ensured it myself.”

Crowley leaned forward, his gaze never wavering. “Then explain why they’re slipping through the cracks. Because they are —and it’s getting worse.”

Crowley lifted his head, his tone losing any trace of smugness. “These Hellborn are killing my clients, Lucifer! My clients! I’m the King of the Crossroads, for Hell’s sake! I always hold up my end of a deal, but these Hellborn are rampaging on Earth, slaughtering my clients before their time is up.”

Lucifer sighed, his irritation giving way to something more serious. Crowley was right—this wasn’t just about his business, it could spiral into something much bigger. If Hell’s order fell apart, it wouldn’t just be Crowley’s empire in jeopardy. An investigation would need to be launched, though he had no intention of sharing that detail with Crowley. The last thing Lucifer wanted was Crowley visiting his daughter's hotel more often, stirring up drama that could drive potential residents away from their path to redemption.

“Where was the last place you heard about these Hellborn?” Lucifer asked, attempting to gather information without giving too much away.

Crowley’s frustration was palpable as he answered. “The last client they murdered went by the name Emberlynn. Can you imagine my surprise when she stormed into my office, demanding to know why her soul was collected seven years earlier than promised?” He huffed, his anger barely contained. “They killed her in her home in Rockview, North Carolina. I don’t care what you plan to do, but something needs to happen—and soon.”

Lucifer listened in silence, processing the gravity of the situation. Crowley stood abruptly, moving toward the door. As he reached it, he paused and glanced over his shoulder, his tone sharp. “Step up your game, Your Majesty. If more Hellborn break loose and wreak havoc, Heaven’s eyes will be back on Hell before you know it.”

Just as Crowley opened the door, Charlie appeared, balancing a tray of snacks. She looked up at the demon with a smile, only to pause when she sensed the tension in the room.

“I brought some snacks, in case you guys were hungry…” she trailed off, her smile faltering as she took in the dark atmosphere.

Crowley’s expression softened momentarily, and he moved aside to let her pass. “No need, Miss Charlie, I was just on my way out.”

Charlie gave him a slow nod, watching as he shot a final glare at her father before departing. Lucifer remained seated, his fiery red eyes fixed on the floor, deep in thought as Crowley's warning echoed in his mind.

Charlie watched Crowley disappear down the hallway, relieved to see Vaggie there to ensure he was escorted out. They shared a brief smile before Vaggie followed him, leaving Charlie alone with her father. She turned to Lucifer, who was still sitting in the armchair, staring at the floor. Kneeling beside him, she gently placed her hand on his arm.

“Dad? Is everything okay?” she asked softly.

Lucifer looked up, meeting her worried gaze. The concern in her eyes made him smile despite the heaviness in his chest. He reached up, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her forehead. “Of course, Apple Pie. It was just business. You shouldn’t worry about it.”

But Charlie wasn’t convinced. She could see the tension in his posture, the weight of something more troubling than just "business." “Dad, please,” she insisted, her voice gentle but firm. “I want to know what happened. It can’t be just business—I could hear the yelling from behind the door.” Her eyes pleaded with him to be honest.

Lucifer sighed, feeling the conflict within himself. He never wanted his daughter to worry about Hell’s affairs. She had enough on her plate with the hotel and its mission for redemption. But if the situation with the Hellborn continued to escalate, it could threaten everything she’d worked for, even jeopardize Heaven’s support for her dream of giving lost souls a second chance.

“You heard that, huh?” Lucifer gave her a soft, rueful smile. “Guess there’s no fooling my little Apple, is there?”

Charlie leaned in, her expression still full of concern. “You don’t have to protect me from everything, Dad. What’s going on?”

Lucifer hesitated, but he knew she was right. She deserved to know what was happening, especially if it could affect the hotel. “Crowley... he’s dealing with unauthorized Hellborn slipping onto Earth,” he explained quietly. “They’ve been killing his clients—souls that were supposed to fulfill their deals but were taken too soon.”

Charlie’s eyes widened as her father’s words sank in. "For all I know, they could be killing others who don’t even have any relation to Hell," Lucifer continued, his voice grim. He gripped the arm of the chair tighter, the strain in his jaw evident as he considered the possibility.

“So innocent people are getting caught in the crossfire?” Charlie asked, her voice barely a whisper. The thought of it made her stomach churn. If Hellborn were loose, wreaking havoc without reason or orders, the consequences could be disastrous—not just for those tied to deals with Crowley, but for anyone unlucky enough to get in their path.

Lucifer closed his eyes for a moment, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "That’s what I have to figure out. Crowley’s pissed, but if this keeps going, it won’t just be demons taking out his clients. It could start drawing attention from Heaven. If they catch wind of Hellborn killing innocents, they’ll come down here and start pointing fingers."

Charlie felt a lump in her throat. "But if Hell is out of control, it’ll ruin everything we’ve been working for…”

Lucifer looked at her, his eyes softening despite the hard edge in his voice. "I know, Apple Pie. And I will fix it. But you need to stay focused on this hotel, on your work. I’ll deal with the Hellborn."

She shook her head. “I don’t want to stand by while you handle this alone. Let me help.”

Lucifer smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You are helping. By keeping this place running, by giving souls a chance at redemption. That’s more than I ever did.”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, a deep sigh escaping his lips. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he would need to pay Rockview a visit. The idea of Hellborn running unchecked was bad enough, but Crowley’s claim that they had started killing people long before their contracts were due? That was a problem Lucifer couldn’t ignore. He had to see just how bad the damage was.

He glanced over at Charlie, who was still watching him with concern in her eyes. "I’ll need to head to Earth soon. See how bad things really are. If Crowley’s right, we’ve got a bigger mess on our hands than I thought."

Charlie frowned, her fingers tightening around the arm of the chair. "Dad, are you sure it’s a good idea to go there alone? What if…"

Lucifer reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "I’ll be fine," Lucifer cut in gently, offering her a reassuring smile.

"I’ve dealt with worse. But I need to handle this myself. “You keep doing what you do best here, keep things running smoothly. If this gets out of hand, we’ll need every bit of good PR we can get for Hell, and this hotel is our best shot. This hotel is the future – your future–and nothing is going to stand in the way of that. I’ll make sure of it.”

Charlie reluctantly nodded. "Just… be careful, okay?"

Lucifer chuckled, brushing her cheek lightly with his fingers. "Always am, Apple Pie."

But as he stood up, his mind was already racing with thoughts of what he might find in Rockview. If things were as bad as Crowley suggested, this might be the start of something much bigger—and far more dangerous.

[five-rivers]

Season of the Skies

I started playing a game called Sky: Children of the Light recently, and although this isn't a crossover, it's definitely inspired by the vibes of that. It's a cute game!

Also, based on the feedback I got on AO3, there seems to be a significant overlap between the Phandom and Sky: Cotl players? Is that the case?

.

Reality had broken a month ago, and Danny was having the time of his life.  

He leaped lightly from rooftop to treetop and back again, gravity a dreamy afterthought.  The tiles and bark were rough beneath his bare feet, but not so rough he regretted not wearing shoes.  His impacts shook loose pollen, glitter, and a few stray petals, but did the trees no harm.  On the roofs he was silent, and no one came out to yell at him, but the window glass chimed with flashes of light.

The colors around him were bright and soft. Easy to look at, easy to fall into. The sky above was marbled with dawn-colored clouds and stars caught among distant nebulae.  Light and color were some of the first things to break, and Danny wasn't sorry to see light pollution go.  Most Everything glowed, now, and stargazing would have been terrible if eyes still worked the same way.  

At his next jump, this one taking him up a good ten feet, the feather-soft edge of the shawl he was wearing flared out behind him, brushing his arms.  The shawl was huge on him.  An old project of his great-grandmother's, it had been made with the typical Fenton girth in mind.  Honestly, it fit him more like a cape than a shawl, but he liked it that way.  

He landed safely and straightened the cape.  His dad’s needlepoint hobby had been inherited from her, so the dark blue fabric was covered in fine embroidery, lace, and tiny glass beads in shades of clear, pale blue, and white.  Great Grandma Fenton hadn't been into ghosts the same way the current Fentons were, but she'd been into something, so the patterns were strange.  Icicles, snowflakes, stars, clouds, and trees competed with lightning, runes and sigils, and strange, spirit-like creatures.  

“Hey!” shouted someone from the street below.  “Hey, Fentwerp!  What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Ah.  Dash.  Charming.  Danny leaned over the edge of the roof.  “What does it look like I'm doing?” he asked agreeably.  

“Getting your dumb nerd self killed is what it looks like,” said Dash, glowering up at Danny, his face turning red.

There.  See.  That's what Danny didn't understand.  No one else seemed willing to experiment with how the world was now.  They were all operating under the old rules, or, worse, looking for ways to fix things, as if the new world wasn't better than the old.  

Sure, it had been scary the first few days.  The suddenness.  The uncertainty.  The way systems they had relied on for so long had stuttered or failed outright.  Danny knew people had been hurt, that, in some places, they were still getting hurt.  He had been one of those people, having been in the hospital when the change rippled through the world, a result of an equipment malfunction in his parents’ lab.  

Maybe his opinion would be different if he was still getting hurt.  But as it was… why would he ever want to go back to how things were?  Why would he want to leave this world, where the colors were soft and bright, and the light sang?  Why would he want to leave this world where the air itself seemed to bear him up?  Where the possibilities seemed limitless?

There was so much more potential for good, with the world as it was than as it had been.  So much less potential for harm.  This was a more finished version of the world.  All the rough edges were gone, and filled with wonder.  He could feel it.

“Get down here!” demanded Dash, when Danny didn't respond.  

“No,” said Danny.  

“Get down here or else.”

“Or else what?” asked Danny, genuinely curious.  Dash couldn't get up here.  No one else could, as far as Danny knew. They hadn't taken the time to work out the new rules for gravity. 

Dash clenched his hands into fists, then stooped to grab a fairly large rock.  Danny, seeing no reason to just let Dash throw it at him, left.  

“Hey!” shouted Dash.  “Hey!  Freakton!  Get back here!”

Names like that were a lot less distressing when the people using them had no power to hurt you.  

Danny continued on his path upwards, touching on higher and higher buildings.  It was tough to get the proper amount of momentum to make some of his jumps, especially since he'd stopped to talk to Dash, but he managed to make all of them, and soon he was standing on top of the tallest building in Amity Park.  

In the center of the roof was a small tree, a sapling.  It hadn't been there the first time Danny had made it up here, and it had grown rapidly since then.  Next time he came, it'd probably be taller than he was. 

For now, though, Danny knelt to check the roots where they grew through a widening crack in the building's roof.  He'd warned the people in the building (he had warned everyone in buildings that had suddenly found themselves with roof trees), but he hadn't heard that anyone had done anything about it, and the roof trees felt friendly to him, so he hadn't pushed the issue.  From the descriptions and pictures Sam had given him, this one seemed healthy enough.  

He pulled a bottle from his backpack and gave the tree a generous sprinkle.  Then he stood up, gave the crown of leaves an affectionate ruffle, and made his way to the edge of the roof.

The city spread out in all directions below him, vibrant and changing.  Towards the edges of town, some buildings had lifted off their foundations, becoming floating islands.  Across the viridian, iridescent forest to the north, he could see blue-bright-gray flashes of Lake Eerie.  Fentonworks was easily visible off to the west, silver dishes and spires chased with green halos.  The parks bloomed with flowers both alien and familiar, vines trailing up into the air, trees growing explosively fast.  A breeze from behind turned his attention south, and he saw high clouds letting down shimmering curtains of rain.  

It wasn’t like Amity Park had been drab and horrible before, but why would anyone want to go back?

He looked away, back down at the street far below him.  Steeling himself, he grasped the edges of the shawl, he spread his arms wide.  

“Time to lift off,” he said, quietly.  “T-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two–” Where he would have said one, he instead inhaled deeply.  Where he would have said zero, he jumped.  

For a heart-stopping moment, he wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake, if he’d made an error in his calculations, if reality had chosen that moment to reassert itself and he was about to drop like a rock.  

The moment passed quickly.  He was flying.  Or, at least, gliding.  

He laughed, and flapped his ‘wings.’  The shawl snapped behind him and gave him a small amount of lift.  

He was doing it.  He was doing it.  

And now that he was doing it, it felt as natural as breathing.  All that planning, all those calculations, all that running, climbing, and jumping–

He could fly.  

Oh, maybe it wasn’t as impressive as it would have been in the old world, where gravity was a cruel mistress.  But it was still flight, unpowered, human flight, and no one he knew of had done this before.  

He laughed, and banked to the side, flying in spirals.  He wasn’t brave enough to try a loop, yet, but he would, eventually, when he learned more about this.  

His spirals took him over the park, the school, the mall, even the Nasty Burger.  But he was losing altitude, his arms were getting tired, and he knew that if he got too close to the ground, gravity would get him again.  Not to the point of hurting him at all, but he didn’t want to land just anywhere after all this work.  

He tipped his wings westward, and started gliding home, pumping his ‘wings’ as infrequently as he could get away with.  He didn’t quite make it all the way back to his front door, but he got close, just a few houses down the street.  He rubbed his shoulders.  That was going to leave him sore.  He’d have to work out and practice more if he wanted to fly any real distance.  He'd also need a way to take off that didn’t involve climbing the tallest building in town. 

The front door of Fentonworks slammed open, revealing a pale Jack and a furiously pink Maddie.

“Daniel James Fenton!  What do you think you're doing?”

Danny looked down at his bare feet, then back up at his parents.  “Walking?”

Maddie sucked a breath in between her teeth.  “Inside,” she said

Danny hurried to obey, taking the steps up to the door two at a time and squeezing past her and Jack to get into the house.  Maddie closed the door behind him. 

“So, um,” said Danny, shuffling from foot to foot.  “What, um.  I thought you guys were going to be working all day today?”

“On the Ops Center,” said Jack.  “Not in the la– Not downstairs.”

Danny made note of the near-slip but didn’t comment on it.  He was already in trouble.  He didn’t need to remind them that the lab didn’t exactly exist anymore and make their mood worse.  

“Oh,” he said.  “What were you–?”

“Never mind what we were doing.  What were you doing?  What were you thinking, jumping off a building like that?  You could have died?”

“Or been seriously hurt!”

“But I wasn’t!  I’m fine.  I planned it all out, and it worked.”

“And it shouldn’t have!” shouted Jack and Maddie at the same time.  

Danny blinked up at them.  “What?”

Jack explained.  “We’ve been tracking the changes to gravity, too, Danny.  We’ve been measuring it, measuring all the changes, to see what those darn ghosts did.”

Danny held back a sigh.  There still wasn’t any sign that ghosts had done this, or even that ghosts existed.  

“Gravity might have changed a bit,” continued Jack, “but not enough to keep a human being airborne like that.”

“There are whole buildings floating,” said Danny.  “I’m a lot smaller than a building.”

“The rules seem to be different for different masses, as well as different altitudes,” said Maddie, making a face.  

“Yeah!  It’s really exciting.  We’re trying to measure the ectoplasm levels– It has to be related, but we haven’t been able to detect any yet– Those ghosts are tricky, son–”  

“Well, yeah.  But the rules are also different for things that are alive.”

“Really?” asked Jack, leaning close.  

“Uh, yes?  Otherwise I wouldn’t have done, um.  That.  I tested it.”

“You tested it?  Did you write it down?”

Danny nodded, cautiously.  Jack swept him off his feet.  “Our boy has been doing science, Mads!”

“He’s been jumping off of buildings!”

“Putting his research to practical use!”

“He’s been jumping off buildings without being peer reviewed!”

“Oh, yeah, son, you should have had someone check your work.”

“You never get peer reviewed,” said Danny, scowling.  

“That’s different,” said Maddie, quickly.  

“If anyone else believed in ghosts, you’d be sure we would be!”  

Hanging limp in Jack’s arms, Danny grumbled.  

“Danny,” said Maddie.  

“Yes?” he mumbled.  

“No more testing theories without checking in with us first.  Safety first.  You should know this by now.”

Danny hunched his shoulders and tried not to think too hard about his scars.  They weren’t very visible, and the doctors had said that they’d fade away, probably entirely, eventually, but they were still there now, if you knew where to look.

A month ago, reality had broken.  

A few days before that, Danny had almost died.  Lab accident.  It turned out that his parents thought portals to other dimensions which may or may not exist needed a lot of electricity and chemicals to function.  Danny had been curious.  He’d wanted to explore, to investigate.  He’d stepped on a loose wire that had led to a capacitor.  He’d been horribly electrocuted, and then exposed to a chemical cocktail.  Sam and Tucker, who had been in the lab with him, had called for an ambulance, and he’d been brought to the hospital.

At least, that’s what he was told, later.  He hadn’t woken up until he’d been in the hospital for a few days.  Of course, when he had woken up, he did so because a bunch of the medicines going into him had started to do weird things while reality restructured itself, and that had been… incredibly unpleasant.  Everyone had been grateful that only a very few things - like whatever Danny had been on to take care of the chemicals he’d picked up in the lab - had acted like that.

Later, Jazz had told Danny that for a brief period of time between the accident and reality breaking, Jack and Maddie had sworn off ghost hunting.  Presumably forever.  But once the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology started to rebel and twist, they’d taken it back.  Well, to be fair, apparently they didn’t take it back until the lab disappeared.  And the Fenton Stockades.    

Although, to be fair in the other direction, it was more a case of everyone’s basements disappearing and being replaced by weird misty caverns than ghosts specifically targeting his parents.  It was a whole thing. 

(Personally, Danny was glad to see them go, although it had sounded like Sam was mourning hers.)

“Danny,” said Maddie, “tell us that you understand.”

“I understand.  I don’t test theories without you,” said Danny, grudgingly.  “Not even about cool things like flying.”

Maddie scowled.  Jack beamed.  

“Great!” shouted Jack.  He whirled Danny around again.  “Let’s go see your data!  Where is it?”

“Upstairs,” mumbled Danny.  “I’ve got a notebook.”

“A notebook, Mads!”  

Maddie sighed.  “Alright, let’s see the notebook.”

[bluebellofbakerstreet]

A-Z Sherlock Fan Fiction Tropes Bingo

Many thanks to @swissmissing for creating this bingo card! Because I'm like that, I decided to go for a blackout bingo! And because, even as I was typing these, I kept thinking of more wonderful fics that would fit the brief, I hope to fill in my bingo card again. Writers are amazing and deserve to be lauded, and I have left off so many amazing fics and authors. Besides, we all need fic recs. 💙

AU/Amnesia The Murder of Emory J Amat by chriscalledmesweetie. Sherlock and John in 1920's AgathaChristieLand. It's a WIP but is currently updating weekly. (52k, T)

BDSM/Bodyswap - Certain Skills by NoStraightLine. John expressly told Sherlock that if he stole his gun again he’d get the fucking he was asking for. Sherlock “Boundaries Are Boring” Holmes stole John’s gun. (3k, E)

Crossover/Crack - Repo Men by Anyawen. In which Mrs Turner's married ones are James Bond and Q. Q is kidnapped; everybody is a BAMF. (7k, G)

Domestic/Disability A Building of Bridges by pengke. Alternate first meeting. No one would ever send Sherlock in to defuse a stand-off; but on one unlikely day, that’s exactly what happened. “Congratulations, Lestrade,” he called out sarcastically. “You’re traumatizing a war veteran.” (11k, G)

Established Relationship/Enemies to Lovers - Interview by bluebellofbakerstreet. In which the boys are in an 80's punk band, and are being interviewed by Rolling Stone. (2k, G)

Future/Fluff 50. Be You - No one Else Can by KittenKin. John's had a bad day and Sherlock doesn't know how to help. They both feel better at the end, and you will, too. (1k, G)

Gen/Genderswap - The Art of Communication by stillwaters01. Lestrade is receiving odd texts from Sherlock; he reads between the lines and brings help. (2k, T)

Historical/Humor - Acceptable Behavior by bbcatemysoul. Sherlock isn't really sure why John wants to shag him, but he's certain that if he's careful to behave properly about it, John can be persuaded to keep doing it. (3k, M)

Illness/imprisonment -  Radioactive Trees in a Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor. Harrowing account of John's battle with mental health issues and addiction after - you know - everything. (280k, E)

Jealousy/Jilted - Hungry by LipstickDaddy. John can't figure out why Sherlock is being so nice to that new guy working with the yard. (7k, G)

Kids/Kink - The Alchemy of Sea Glass by reveling_in_mayhem. Salt and air and sand surrounded their little party of three. Crashing waves, gull cries, and the exhilarated exclamations of an excited three-year-old served as the soundtrack to a day filled with blue skies and bright sunshine. (22k, E)

Long/Love Triangle The Edinburgh Problem by snorklepie. “A nice holiday, just a bit more...murdery. ” John said drily. “Yes! The best kind of holiday!” Sherlock beamed. “So we won’t get bored!” (152k, E)

Magical Realism/Major Character Death Left by LifeonMars. John Watson is left-handed. He’s tried not to let it affect his life, but as any Lefty knows, that’s almost impossible. (45k, M)

NSFW/Next Gen. Warzone by abundantlyqueer. Three smutty stories that pick up where the first two episodes left off. (13k, E)

Omegaverse/Only One Bed - Scars Don't Lie by CumberCurlyGirl. The prospect of going undercover as husbands to a couples retreat is just too enticing to refuse. (33k, M)

Parenthood/Platonic The Man With the Cartier Frames by JRow. Sherlock's top priority is The Work, just as it's always been ... in between trips to Putney to help with Rosie, collecting Rosie from school, and preparing for Rosie's sleepover at Baker Street. (32k, T)

Queer/Quest Dance With Me by TotallySilverGirl. Sherlock's queer quest for johnlock requires dancing, and some help from Sally Donovan. (28k, E)

Retirement/Road Trip - The Winter Garden by Callie4180. As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical. (31k, T)

Soulmates/Slow Burn Soul Mate by Mottlemoth. Mystrade. The words appeared on Mycroft's arm aged fourteen. He's now lived with the unfortunate words all his life, not certain that he even wishes to meet his soul mate if that's how the man talks. (4k, T)

Teen AU/Time Travel - The Curious Adventure of the Drs Watson by ShinySherlock. What if ACD Watson and BBC Watson switched places? (40k, M)

Undercover/Unrequited - Last Call at the Homesick Pub by Chryse. During the hiatus, Sherlock is both undercover and suffering from unrequited love. (3k, T)

Vampires/Villain POV - Nine Tenths of the Law by bendingsignpost. John knows what's his - of course he'll kill for it. (Modern vampire AU) (18k, M)

Whump/Werewolves When Your Belly’s in the Trench by Morgan_Stuart. The next time that door opens, John Watson will kill the person on the other side. (4k, T)

Xenomorphism/Xmas - Ghost Stories by SwissMiss. Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something. (22k, M)

Zombies/Zoomorphism - Aim for the Head by Breath4Soul. Sometimes you don't really find yourself until everything has ended.A fic about finding love, healing, and purpose after everything has gone to hell. Still a WIP, but worth it. (44k, M)

[radiantrookie]

Since Villains of Valley View is cancelled, here's my full Fanon Lab Ratsverse timeline

Lab Rats Season 1

Lab Rats Season 2

Mighty Med Season 1

Lab Rats Season 3

"Show me the Moonday" Lunar Eclipse red skies crossover

Lab Rats S3E8: Principal from Another Planet

Mighty Med S1E16: Night of the Living Nightmare

Lab Rats Bionic Island

Mighty Med Season 2

Lab Rats vs Mighty Med

The Mighty Med Season 3 we never got to see

Kaz and Oliver discover more of their powers

Rodissius, got heavily injured during a battle and was evacuated to the Mighty Med Hospital. Oliver and Kaz managed to keep him alive, but they had to extract his powers, making him powerless. 

Bridget/Mr. Terror gets imprisoned

Mighty Med Hospital gets destroyed

Lab Rats Elite Force

The continued half of Elite Force we never got to see

Rodissius and his children, Roman, Riker and Reese presumably get defeated

Superheroes get revealed to the world

Villains of Valley View Season 1

Villains of Valley View Season 2

[fandom-friday]

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! A comprehensive list of this week’s submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

💕 = 18+ content 🟪 = contains spoilers of a currently running show

Fics:

The Clone Wars: It Only Takes a Spark (Purge Trooper Cody x f!Inquisitor Reader) by @vodika-vibes 💕 Time After Time (Commander Cody x f!Reader) by @the-rain-on-kamino Theirs (Commander Fox x f!Reader x Commander Wolffe) by @vodika-vibes 💕 Don't Stop on My Account (Commander Wolffe x f!Reader) by @dickarchivist 💕 One Spotchka Too Many (Captain Rex x f!Reader) by @twistedsarchive Captain Rex x OC Nia Ficlet by @eternal-transcience 💕 The Last Word (Fives x OC Mal Darroch) by @ariadnes-red-thread Shattered Sunrise (Mace Windu x OC Danica Morrow) by @pickleprickle The Choices We Make, The Paths We Tread by lildropofmagic (AO3) The Number Lads by @jgvfhl

The Bad Batch: The Hostage by @kybercrystals94 Freeze Thaw by AnEchoInHere (AO3)

The Book of Boba Fett: 💕 This Tender Love (Boba Fett x f!Reader) by @daimyosprincess 💕 Worth the Risk (Boba Fett x f!Reader) by @daimyosprincess

Star Wars Original Trilogy: Revelations by shOokspeared (AO3)

Republic Commando: 💕 Off the Grid (Niner Skirata x f!Reader) by @the-rain-on-kamino

Batman: Lavender Blood by @starkskypines

Hetalia: Axis Powers: Grey Skies Over London by Gemini Star 01 (ff.net) Every Generation by Gemini Star 01 (ff.net) Gutters by Glassamilk (ff.net) Ditches by Glassamilk (ff.net)

Call of Duty: 💕 Riptide (Price x f!Reader) by @the-californicationist

Crossover AUs: Edward's Babysitting Service (Hetalia: Axis Powers X Fullmetal Alchemist Crossover) by orphan_account (AO3) Conversations With Patronizing Jerks (Hetalia: Axis Powers X Star Wars Crossover) by @basketofnova

Art:

The Clone Wars: Republic Troops 501st Poster by @boggsart Clone Wars Band Art by @pinkiemme Captain Rex Art by @vivaislenska Captain Rex Art by @kheimerios Captain Rex Art by @rackcty Mace Windu Art by @mudpuddless Fives and OC Elara McTavish Art by @aliettali OC Kazi and OC Daria by @eyecandyeoz (from I Yearn and So I Fear by @enigmaticexplorer) Clone OC Atlas Art by @orionfrommars

The Bad Batch: Bad Batch Selfie Art by @collophora Happy Ending Bad Batch Art by @mroddmod Hunter and Omega Art by @blxem1lk Hunter Redesign by @snw-faatuatua 🟪 (TBB S3) Hunter Art by @soularsss 🟪 (TBB S3) CX-2 Art by @notnyxxy Tech Art by @rexxdjarin Tech and Phee's Children OCs by @nightskyfoxyy A Place to Hide by @the-rain-on-kamino

Star Wars Original Trilogy: Young Boba Fett Art by @mrs2224

Jedi: Survivor: BD-1 Art by @eriadus

Batman: Batman's Boys by @inverted-typo

How to Train Your Dragon: Meatlug Art by @spacenintendogs

Call of Duty: Wraith by @bluegiragi

GIF Sets:

The Book of Boba Fett: Kia Kaha, Kia Maia, Kia Manawanui by @bobafettdaily

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (daenys)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Pairing: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: contact

- Next part: the gift

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: Previous part has been fixed.

I am Daenys Targaryen, born of flame and blood, heir to a legacy that stretches across millennia. My House was once the pinnacle of power in the known universe, its dragonlords feared and revered by all. We ruled from Valyria, the greatest civilization the galaxy had ever seen, until the Doom came. The fires of war—nuclear and cruel—swallowed our homeworld and all we had built. Our enemies conspired, believing us destroyed, our legacy reduced to ash and ruin.

But House Targaryen was not so easily extinguished.

In the aftermath, my ancestors did what Targaryens have always done—they adapted. They fled to the furthest reaches of space, to the uncharted corners of the galaxy where the light of the Imperium could not reach. There, we found a new home, a planet of red skies and volcanic peaks, a world where we could rise again. We named it Albiron, and from its molten heart, we rebuilt our civilization.

In the depths of Albiron, we discovered the drakaon crystals, a powerful source of energy that has allowed us to evolve beyond the constraints of the galaxy's fuel economy. The Imperium and the Spacing Guild cling to melange—the spice that gives them control over space travel. But we, the Targaryens, found a way to traverse the stars without reliance on their outdated systems. The crystals not only power our ships but enhance our technology, giving us the strength and independence we needed to survive.

And survive we did.

Our ancestors safeguarded the ancient knowledge of our House. The secrets of forging Valyrian steel, a craft thought lost to time, still live within us. Our swords, forged in dragonfire, remain unbreakable, as sharp as the day they were first drawn. We hold the wisdom of Valyria—its sciences, its alchemy, its weaponry—all hidden away from the prying eyes of the Empire that now rules the stars. The new emperors and their Bene Gesserit servants tried to create their own messiah, to forge a future in their image, but they could not control us.

They do not know what we are capable of.

And now, after millennia in the shadows, we are stirring again. The galaxy has forgotten our name, but the time will come when they will tremble at the sound of it once more.

For fire and blood will always rise from the ashes

The icy wind cuts through your cloak as you press yourself against the jagged cliffside, the snow swirling violently around you. Arctis is unforgiving, a frozen wasteland where the cold bites at your bones, and the endless white stretches far beyond sight. The Harkonnens are still searching, their patrols scouring the frozen plains, desperate to find you. Their ornithopters hum overhead, casting dark shadows against the snow as their engines roar through the storm.

You crouch low, your breath steady, watching as a squad of Harkonnen soldiers trudges through the snow below, their visors scanning the terrain. They’re relentless, but you’ve been trained for this. The cold, the endless hunt—none of it is new to you. The blood of the dragon runs in your veins, and you know how to wait, how to survive.

The satchel at your side holds something precious: an ancient dragon egg, long since turned to stone. It’s a relic of your past, a symbol of your House’s power, though the Harkonnens know nothing of its true worth. To them, it’s a prize, a trophy. They think capturing you and your egg will give them leverage—perhaps even power. But they do not understand what they’re dealing with.

The blizzard rages on, the wind howling like a beast across the frozen plains. You pull the hood of your cloak tighter around your face, your eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of the ornithopters. Their searchlights sweep across the cliffs, but they won’t find you. Not here, not in the storm.

You move silently, your footsteps careful as you navigate the narrow path along the ridge. The Harkonnens are close, but you’ve learned to avoid them, slipping between their patrols like a ghost in the snow. You’ve disrupted their operations, destroyed their mining equipment, and now they’re hunting you—desperate, angry, and foolish.

You crouch behind a snow-covered boulder, listening to the distant hum of their comms. Their voices crackle through the static of the storm, distorted but still clear enough to hear.

“…continue the search… she can’t have gone far…”

You smirk to yourself. Let them come. Let them search. You’ve been evading them for days, and they still have no idea what they’re up against.

Your thoughts flicker back to the hatchery—the ancient underground structure they uncovered in their greed. It had once been a place where dragons were born, a relic of Valyria’s greatness, long forgotten and buried beneath the ice. The dragon eggs within had turned to stone long ago, but the Harkonnens, ignorant as they were, believed they could extract some kind of power from them. They were wrong.

The Harkonnen soldiers below continue their search, unaware of your presence. You wait, patient, watching them pass by. When the last of them disappears over the ridge, you move again, keeping low to the ground, careful not to make a sound.

A distant shout catches your attention, carried by the wind. You freeze, listening. They’re getting closer. The hum of the ornithopters grows louder, their engines cutting through the storm. They’re sweeping the area, desperate to find you before you can strike again.

You tighten your grip on the hilt of your sword, the Valyrian steel cold against your skin. The ancient knowledge of your House flows through you—the blood of dragonlords, the fire that burns even in the coldest of places.

The storm is your ally, masking your movements, your presence. You can feel the Harkonnens growing frustrated, their search becoming more frantic. They think they can capture you, but you are not so easily taken. You were born of fire and blood, and you will not fall to the likes of them.

In the distance, the hum of the ornithopters fades, replaced by the howling wind and the silence of the frozen wasteland. You remain still, your breath steady, waiting for the storm to hide you once more.

The hunt continues, but you are patient.

You always have been.

The storm raged on, swirling the snow into thick, blinding curtains around you. The wind howled, its sharp edges cutting through the air as you huddled beneath an outcropping of jagged rocks. Your breath came slow and steady, your body still despite the cold biting at your skin. You had lived in conditions far worse than this; the ice and snow of Arctis could not force you out of hiding.

The Harkonnens had passed, their search party moving farther into the storm. But you remained cautious, listening for any signs of movement. The winds carried faint voices—not the harsh tones of Harkonnen soldiers, but something else. Low, deliberate, and organized. You pressed yourself deeper into the shadows, straining to hear.

The voices grew clearer as they approached from beyond the ridge. You crept forward, carefully peering out from your hiding spot. Through the swirling snow, you could make out a group of men, moving in two tight formations. They were well-armed, disciplined, their movements efficient and purposeful. It took a moment to recognize them, but soon you realized they were not Harkonnens at all.

These men were from House Atreides.

You observed them quietly, hidden in the shadows. Two distinct groups, both moving with military precision. Though you didn’t know them by name, you could tell from their movements and the way they coordinated their search that these were capable soldiers. Their formation suggested high-level training, and the way they swept the terrain for threats made it clear they were not to be underestimated.

Unbeknownst to you, these were two teams separated from Duke Leto’s main force—led by none other than Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck, two of the Duke’s most trusted men. But here, in the blizzard, they were just another force you had to evade.

You listened closely as the men talked amongst themselves, their voices carried by the wind, though still muffled by the storm.

“The Duke’s with them still now,” one of the men said, his voice barely audible. “Escorted willingly to their camp. There has been no contact since.”

“They didn’t try to stop him? By the sound of his voice Leto sounded determined.” another voice responded.

“No, they welcomed him. These unknown forces—whoever they are—they’re not hostile to us. Not yet, anyway.”

You felt your pulse quicken. Your brother, Aelor, had found them first. Of course he had. He had been scouting the planet for days, and if anyone could make contact with the Atreides without hostility, it was him. He had always been the diplomat, the one to make the first move. But that meant time was running short. The Harkonnens were still searching for you, and now the Atreides were caught up in the middle of it.

You leaned in closer, straining to hear more, but just as you shifted, the snow beneath your foot crunched—too loud in the stillness.

Two of the Atreides soldiers, their instincts honed from years of combat, immediately stiffened. One of them, a man with sharp eyes and a scar down his cheek, turned his head slightly, his hand moving to the hilt of his blade.

“Did you hear that?” he muttered to his companion.

The other man, stockier but just as alert, nodded, his eyes scanning the area. “Something’s out there.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t afford to be caught—not now, not before you had a chance to finish what you had started. Without waiting for them to spot you, you pushed yourself up from your hiding place and began to run, your feet light on the snow but fast enough to kick up a trail in the storm.

“Hey!” one of the soldiers shouted, his voice sharp. “Stop!”

You didn’t look back. The wind whipped against your face as you ran, the storm providing just enough cover to keep you from being seen clearly, but you could hear them behind you, their footsteps crunching through the snow, their voices calling after you.

“Stop, damn it!” another voice yelled. “We’re not Harkonnens!”

It didn’t matter. You couldn’t stop now. You had no idea what they would do if they caught you. For all you knew, they might try to turn you over to the Harkonnens in exchange for leverage or an alliance. You couldn’t take that chance.

You ran faster, weaving through the rocks and cliffs, your cloak whipping behind you. The Atreides soldiers were fast—faster than you had anticipated—and they were gaining ground. You could hear their boots thudding against the frozen earth, the clinking of their armor as they chased after you.

“Stop, we’re not your enemy!” one of the voices called again, closer this time.

You pushed yourself harder, but the storm was growing fiercer, the wind tugging at your cloak, pulling you back. The cold bit into your skin, slowing your movements as the snow thickened around you. You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see the sharp-eyed soldier closing the distance between you, his hand outstretched.

“Stop!” he commanded, his voice firm. “We’re with House Atreides—stop!”

Panic flared in your chest, but you couldn’t let it control you. You needed a way out, but the storm was growing too intense, the landscape blurring before your eyes. You stumbled slightly as the ground beneath you dipped, but you caught yourself, forcing your legs to keep moving.

But the Atreides soldiers were relentless, their pursuit unwavering. If you didn’t find a way to lose them soon, they would catch you. And then everything—your mission, your House’s survival—could be compromised.

In the distance, you could hear the faint hum of more ornithopters, but whether they were Harkonnen or Atreides, you couldn’t tell. The storm masked everything now, the world narrowing down to the sound of your breath, the crunch of snow beneath your feet, and the pounding of your heart.

You had to escape. You had to find a way to evade them.

Because if they caught you, the consequences would be far worse than just being another prisoner.

Gurney Halleck’s boots pounded through the snow, his breath clouding in the icy air as he and Duncan Idaho sprinted after the fleeing figure. The storm was growing worse, and the swirling winds tugged at their cloaks, but Gurney’s focus was razor-sharp. Whoever this person was—Harkonnen, rebel, or some other unknown—they had to catch them before the Harkonnens did.

Ahead of them, through the thick snow, the figure moved swiftly, almost too fast for the conditions. Gurney could make out only a vague silhouette through the storm, darting between the jagged rocks and heading straight for the frozen lake that stretched out beyond the ridge.

Duncan glanced over at Gurney as they ran, his sharp eyes narrowing as the unmistakable sound of Harkonnen ornithopters roared overhead. Their black, beetle-like forms cut through the sky, their engines loud even over the howling wind.

“Harkonnens!” Duncan shouted over the noise. “I’ll deal with them—keep after the runner!”

Gurney nodded without breaking stride, his focus narrowing on the figure disappearing over the edge of the ridge. “Go!” he shouted back. “I’ll get him!”

With a final glance, Duncan peeled away, motioning to the rest of the Atreides soldiers to follow him. They fanned out, preparing to engage the Harkonnen forces as the ornithopters swept in low, their blasters lighting up the snowy landscape.

Gurney, now alone in pursuit, gritted his teeth and pressed on, his legs burning with effort as he crested the ridge and saw the frozen lake below. The figure was already halfway across, their feet moving swiftly but carefully over the ice.

Gurney’s instincts screamed at him to be cautious—crossing a frozen lake in the middle of a storm was dangerous—but he had no choice. The person was fast, but Gurney had tracked many runners in his time, and he wasn’t about to let this one escape. Whoever they were, they had answers he needed.

His boots hit the ice, and immediately he felt the treacherous surface beneath him. Every step had to be calculated, the slick ice making it difficult to gain speed. But Gurney was relentless, his eyes fixed on the figure ahead.

They were nearing the far edge of the lake, and Gurney knew he had to close the distance before they reached cover. With a burst of speed, he lunged forward, his feet sliding slightly on the ice as he tackled the figure to the ground.

The two of them hit the frozen surface with a thud, the impact jarring but controlled. Gurney quickly pinned the runner down, his strong hands gripping their arms and forcing them into submission. He expected a struggle, but what caught him off guard was the sudden stillness beneath him.

The figure twisted beneath his grasp, but not with the strength of a hardened soldier. Gurney blinked in surprise as he looked down at the person he had just caught—and found himself staring into the face of a young woman. You.

Her face was striking, though it was partially hidden beneath the hood of her cloak. She had pale blonde hair, almost silver in the dim light, and her eyes—unusual lilac eyes—narrowed at him with fierce defiance. There was something otherworldly about her appearance, something that startled Gurney more than the fact that she wasn’t a man, as he had first assumed.

“Who—?” Gurney began, but before he could finish, the woman twisted again, trying to free herself. Her movements were quick, but Gurney held her down, his instincts now on high alert.

She wasn’t Harkonnen—of that he was sure. No Harkonnen would move like this, or have those eyes. But who was she?

Before he could ask, a blaster shot echoed across the lake, and Gurney instinctively glanced up. The storm was still raging, but through the snow, he could see Duncan and the Atreides soldiers engaging the Harkonnen forces near the edge of the lake. Ornithopters circled overhead, firing down into the snow, but the Atreides were holding their ground.

Another sound—this one closer—pulled Gurney’s attention back to the woman. She had stopped struggling, but her eyes were fixed on something behind him. Gurney turned his head just in time to see another squad of Harkonnen soldiers emerging from the storm, their weapons aimed directly at them.

“Damn it,” Gurney muttered under his breath.

Without wasting a second, Gurney hauled the woman to her feet, his grip firm but not cruel. “Come on,” he said urgently, his eyes flicking to the advancing Harkonnens. “We need to move, now!”

She hesitated for a moment, her violet eyes darting between Gurney and the soldiers. But when she saw the Harkonnen forces closing in, she seemed to understand the danger and nodded.

Gurney tightened his hold on her arm and pulled her toward the far edge of the lake. They had to reach cover before the Harkonnens caught up—or worse, before the ice gave way beneath them.

The icy wind slashes at your face as your captor drags you across the frozen lake, his grip firm, unwavering. You twist your arm, trying to pull free, but the man doesn’t loosen his hold. His face—grizzled, hardened—remains focused on the danger ahead, but you know he’s underestimated what’s coming.

“Let me go,” you say sharply, your voice cutting through the storm as you glance back at the advancing Harkonnen forces. They’re closing in fast, their dark shapes moving with deadly precision across the ice.

The Atreides soldier barely acknowledges you, his grip tightening as he pulls you along. “Not a chance,” he mutters, his voice gruff.

You grit your teeth, frustration boiling inside you. He doesn’t understand the danger—not fully. The Harkonnens aren’t just after him or his men. They’re after you. And they’re not going to stop until they have you, no matter who stands in their way.

“You need to let me go,” you repeat, more urgently this time, your breath visible in the freezing air. “You can’t fight them while dragging me along. Let me go, and we’ll have a chance to survive.”

He doesn’t slow down, his eyes scanning the horizon, but you can see his jaw tighten. He knows you’re right. The Harkonnens are gaining momentum, their boots pounding on the ice, the sounds of their shouts growing louder.

As the blizzard intensifies, you can make out the rough bark of one of the Harkonnen officers through the storm. “Keep the girl alive! She must stay alive!”

You tense at the words, but your captor’s steps falter for just a moment, his head snapping toward you. He knows now—they want you alive. For a moment, he hesitates, his grip loosening just enough for you to jerk your arm free.

Before he can grab you again, you turn to face him, your lilac eyes flashing with intensity. “Let me fight, or we’ll both die.”

He studies you for a split second, his instincts warring with his sense of duty. But as the Harkonnens close in, their weapons raised, he makes a decision.

“Fine,” he growls, finally releasing you. “But stay close.”

You smirk despite the cold, the tension in your body finally easing as your muscles loosen, ready to move. This soldier doesn’t know what you’re capable of—but he’s about to learn.

The first Harkonnen squad reaches you, their weapons drawn, their faces twisted with a cruel determination. One of them rushes toward you, his blaster raised, but you move faster than he can react. Your hands find the hilt of your hidden Valyrian steel blade, and in one swift motion, you unsheathe it, the metal gleaming in the pale light of the storm.

With a speed and grace born from years of training, you dodge his first strike, your body moving fluidly as if in a dance. Your sword hums through the air, cutting through the cold like a whisper. Before the Harkonnen can fire, your blade is at his throat, and in a single, decisive motion, he falls.

Your captor—the Atreides soldier—watches you, stunned. He’s seen warriors before, but nothing like this. Your movements are unlike anything he’s witnessed—swift, lethal, and otherworldly. You hear his breath catch as he engages the Harkonnen beside you, barely keeping up with the chaos that’s unfolding around him.

The rest of the Harkonnens press forward, but you’re already a step ahead, moving like a shadow on the ice. Another soldier charges, his weapon raised, but you sidestep him with ease, your blade slicing through the air with lethal precision. His body crumples to the ground before he even realizes he’s lost.

The storm howls around you, the snow swirling in thick, blinding waves, but the battle is sharp, focused. You fight like the blood of the dragon runs through your veins—fast, furious, and unstoppable. The ice beneath your feet holds, but you can feel the tension in the air, the weight of the conflict hanging like a blade ready to fall.

Beside you, the Atreides soldier fights fiercely, but you can sense his astonishment. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected you. The Harkonnen forces are brutal, unrelenting, but you fight as if every strike has been calculated a hundred times before it happens. You are the storm, and the Harkonnens are nothing but kindling in your path.

A Harkonnen lieutenant rushes forward, his face twisted with rage. “Take her alive!” he roars. But before he can reach you, you spin, your sword flashing in the storm’s light as it cuts through the air, meeting his weapon with a sharp clash. The force of your strike sends him stumbling backward, his face a mask of shock.

You don’t give him a second chance. Your blade is at his throat in an instant, and with one final strike, he falls, his body hitting the ice with a dull thud.

The sounds of blaster fire and plasma rifles echo in the distance as the Atreides forces engage the Harkonnens, but here, on this frozen lake, you stand victorious over the bodies of those who had dared to hunt you.

Your captor—still catching his breath—turns to you, his eyes wide, his disbelief clear. “Who the hell are you?”

You sheath your blade, the cold wind whipping at your cloak as you step closer. Your lilac eyes meet his, unblinking.

“I am Daenys Targaryen,” you say calmly, your voice carrying over the storm. “And you were right to let me go.”

Before he can respond, another group of Harkonnen soldiers emerges from the storm, and this time, they don’t hesitate. They charge forward with renewed fury, their weapons raised, their intent clear.

Without a word, the Atreides soldier grabs your arm, pulling you toward cover as the next wave of battle begins.

The blizzard whipped violently around you and your captor, the snow swirling in a thick veil of white as the cold air bit at your skin. You could hear the Harkonnen soldiers shouting, their voices growing closer. They were relentless, but you were ready—your sword still slick with the blood of those who had tried to capture you. You glanced at the Atreides soldier next to you, his breath heavy as he clutched his rifle, scanning the horizon for more threats.

Then, through the storm, you heard a voice—a sharp, commanding one, calling out through the chaos.

"Gurney!" the voice called, rough but strong, cutting through the howling winds. "You there? Gurney!"

The man next to you—Gurney, apparently—responded immediately, his tone urgent. "Duncan! We’re pinned down! The Harkonnens have us locked here on the ice with the girl!"

At the word girl, you scoffed, barely able to contain your irritation. You were no mere girl; you were Daenys Targaryen, the blood of Valyria running through your veins. You had fought and survived where others would have perished. Being reduced to nothing more than a ‘girl’ felt like an insult—one you’d gladly repay once this was over.

But Gurney’s use of the word didn’t seem to faze the man on the other end of the comms—Duncan—at least not at first. You could hear a brief moment of hesitation in his voice as he processed what Gurney had said.

"Wait—what?" Duncan’s voice faltered for a heartbeat. "A girl? Out here?"

The disbelief in his tone was palpable, as though the very idea of a young woman being out in the middle of this frozen wasteland was beyond reason. You clenched your jaw, the irritation bubbling up inside you again. But before you could say anything, Duncan quickly recovered, his voice sharp and focused once more.

"Doesn’t matter," Duncan continued, his voice steely and decisive. "Both of you need to keep moving. I’m sending you coordinates now—regroup there. We’ll cover you. But don’t stop, Gurney, do you hear me?"

Gurney nodded, though his eyes remained fixed on the advancing Harkonnens. "Copy that," he responded, his voice clipped. "We’ll make a break for it."

Gurney’s grip on your arm tightened, and he pulled you back slightly, his face set in concentration as he surveyed the chaotic battlefield ahead. The Harkonnen forces were relentless, pushing forward through the storm, their blasters firing indiscriminately as they closed in on your position. The ornithopters circled above, their harsh lights cutting through the snow.

You could hear more of Duncan’s voice in the distance, directing his own men to lay down cover fire, but it wasn’t enough. The Harkonnens were too close.

“We need to move,” Gurney muttered, his breath fogging in the cold air. “Now.”

He glanced at you, his eyes hard and calculating. He didn’t know who you truly were—he only knew that you were important enough for the Harkonnens to want you alive. For now, that was enough for him.

“Keep up,” Gurney ordered as he turned toward the coordinates Duncan had sent. Without another word, he took off across the ice, moving swiftly despite the uneven ground.

You followed close behind, your movements fluid and precise. Every instinct told you to fight, to turn and face the Harkonnens who hunted you—but you knew there would be a time for that later. Right now, the priority was survival.

As you and Gurney ran, the sounds of battle raged all around you—blaster fire, the roar of engines, and the shouts of men locked in combat. You could feel the ice beneath your feet shifting slightly, creaking under the weight of the violence above it, but you kept moving.

"Stay low!" Gurney barked as he ducked behind a large chunk of ice, pulling you down beside him. Plasma shots zipped overhead, lighting up the storm with flashes of red and blue.

You could hear Duncan’s voice again, this time over Gurney’s comm. “We’ve got them distracted—keep moving, Gurney! Head for the ridge. I’ll meet you there with reinforcements.”

Gurney gave a terse nod, not wasting time with words. He glanced over at you, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes—perhaps respect, or maybe just acknowledgment that you weren’t the helpless ‘girl’ he had assumed. Either way, you were both in this together now, and you had no intention of slowing him down.

As Gurney prepared to move again, you looked back over your shoulder. The Harkonnens were relentless, pressing forward, their eyes locked on you. You could hear them shouting to one another, their orders clear: "Take her alive!"

But they didn’t know who they were dealing with. You were no mere prize to be captured. You were fire, you were blood, and the day of reckoning would come soon enough.

“Ready?” Gurney asked, his voice low.

You nodded, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword. "Lead the way."

With a quick signal, Gurney rose from cover, pulling you with him as you both sprinted toward the ridge. The storm raged on, the ice creaking beneath your feet, but you moved with purpose, knowing that Duncan and his men were waiting.

The Harkonnens would not have you today.

The ridge came into view through the swirling storm, and you and Gurney pushed through the biting wind, your breath visible in the freezing air. Ahead, the forms of more Atreides soldiers emerged, and you could see Duncan Idaho standing at the front, his hand signaling his men to hold position. As you and Gurney neared, Duncan waved his men forward, laying down cover fire to drive the Harkonnens away. Their retreating shouts echoed through the blizzard, and soon the battlefield quieted, leaving only the howl of the wind.

You barely had time to catch your breath before Duncan signaled to his men again, his voice sharp. “Surround her!”

Immediately, several Atreides soldiers moved in, forming a tight circle around you. You could feel the irritation rising within you, your muscles tensing as their weapons remained trained on you. You clenched your jaw, biting back a retort, but the annoyance was clear in your eyes.

Duncan stepped forward, his gaze sharp and assessing as he took in your appearance. You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your sword, your stance—he was calculating, sizing you up, but you stood firm, refusing to let him see any sign of discomfort.

Nearby, Gurney moved closer to Duncan, and the two of them began speaking in low voices. You strained to hear, knowing they were discussing you, but the howling wind muffled most of their conversation.

“What’s her story?” Duncan asked, glancing briefly in your direction before focusing on Gurney. His voice was calm but edged with curiosity.

Gurney, his face still stern from the intensity of the chase, spoke quietly. “She calls herself Daenys Targaryen.”

Duncan’s reaction was immediate, his eyes narrowing as he glanced back at you, disbelief flickering across his face. “Targaryen?” he repeated in a hushed tone. “That’s impossible.”

“I thought the same,” Gurney muttered, his voice low and cautious. “But we’ve seen many impossible things on this planet.”

Duncan’s expression remained skeptical, but you could tell he wasn’t about to dismiss the claim out of hand. He took a deep breath, then stepped closer to you, his eyes searching your face for answers. There was a heaviness in the air, the kind that came with the weight of secrets and the unknown.

“What are you carrying?” Duncan asked, his voice calm but demanding, as he gestured toward the satchel at your side.

You stiffened at the question, your hand instinctively tightening on the strap of the satchel. “That’s none of your business,” you said coldly, your voice firm despite the storm swirling around you.

Duncan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could respond, one of the Atreides soldiers acted swiftly, stepping forward and snatching the satchel from your grasp. You spun toward him, ready to fight, but two other soldiers quickly closed in, blocking your path and preventing you from reaching the man who had taken it.

“Give that back!” you snapped, anger flashing in your eyes as you took a step forward.

Duncan opened the satchel carefully, his expression curious but guarded. His brow furrowed as he reached inside and pulled out the heavy, smooth object—the petrified dragon egg. He held it in his hands, examining it with a look of confusion and mild disbelief.

“It’s a rock,” Duncan said, shaking his head slightly as he turned it over in his hands. He glanced up at you, his expression puzzled. “The Harkonnens are chasing you… for this?”

Before you could respond, Gurney stepped closer, his eyes widening slightly as he saw what Duncan was holding. His tone was urgent, a hint of alarm creeping into his voice. “Duncan, that’s not just a rock.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “What is it, then?”

Gurney took a breath, his eyes locking onto the egg in Duncan’s hands. “It’s a dragon egg.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. For a moment, the world seemed to still, even as the storm raged around you. Duncan’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, his eyes flicking from the egg to you.

“A dragon egg?” Duncan repeated, incredulous. “That’s… impossible.”

You stepped forward, your voice calm but laced with a warning. “There are many things in this universe that you don’t understand.”

Duncan stared at you, clearly trying to process the implications. He glanced down at the egg again, turning it over in his hands, as if expecting it to reveal more of its secrets. “The Harkonnens wouldn’t go to this much trouble for a stone,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But if what Gurney says is true…”

“It is true,” you interrupted, your voice steady. “That egg is more valuable than anything the Harkonnens could hope to steal. But it doesn’t belong to them—or to you.”

Duncan looked back at you, his expression unreadable. He still didn’t fully trust you, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes now, a recognition of the significance of what he was holding.

“Why are the Harkonnens so desperate to capture you?” Duncan asked, his tone softer now, but no less intense. “What’s your connection to this… dragon egg?”

You met his gaze, your lilac eyes unwavering. “Because they know,” you said, your voice steady despite the cold biting at your skin. “They know that House Targaryen is more than just a myth. And they will do anything to claim what is ours.”

Duncan glanced at Gurney, who gave a slight nod, as if to confirm the gravity of your words. The storm continued to howl around you, but now the weight of the moment pressed down on everyone standing there.

The Atreides had stumbled into something far greater than they could have imagined.

And for the first time, Duncan Idaho realized that their fight with the Harkonnens was about to take a turn none of them could have predicted.

Duke Leto Atreides sat quietly in the meeting room, his hands resting under his chin as he tried to process the gravity of what Aelor Targaryen had just revealed. The room was still, save for the faint hum of the advanced technology that surrounded them, but inside Leto’s mind, a storm was brewing. He had heard impossible things in his life—tales of lost Houses, ancient enemies, and forgotten powers—but this was something else entirely.

Aelor had told him in no uncertain terms who he was and who his people were. House Targaryen, the long-lost, feared enemy of the Imperium, had not perished. They had merely retreated into the shadows, rebuilding their strength, and now… now, the Atreides had aided them.

This could mean disaster for his House. If the Imperium learned that the Atreides had sided with the most feared enemy of the past, it could be seen as treason. And yet, there was something in Aelor’s calm, confident demeanor that made Leto pause. Something that told him this was not just another power struggle. This was about survival—about the future.

Beside him, Thufir Hawat stood, his arms crossed, his ever-sharp mind cataloging and analyzing every detail of the conversation. Leto knew that Hawat was already formulating plans, strategies, contingencies. That was his gift—his curse. The Mentat could see possibilities where others saw only chaos.

Leto exhaled slowly, his eyes still focused on the table before him. The weight of the decision ahead pressed heavily on his shoulders.

“I understand what you’ve said, Aelor,” Leto finally spoke, his voice calm, but edged with caution. “But you must know what this means for House Atreides. If the Imperium learns that we’ve aided your people—”

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Duke Leto,” Aelor interrupted gently. “You merely defended yourselves. The Harkonnens were the aggressors here, as they always are. The Imperium does not need to know what they do not see.”

Leto’s eyes flicked up to meet Aelor’s, searching for any trace of deception. But Aelor’s face was calm, his expression almost serene, as though he held all the pieces to a puzzle that no one else could solve.

Before Leto could respond, the door to the room slid open, and Kellor stepped inside. His expression was strained, but there was an urgency in his eyes that caught Leto’s attention immediately.

“Duke Leto,” Kellor said, “Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck are trying to establish communications with us. They’ve encountered something… unexpected.”

Aelor, who had remained composed, suddenly straightened, his violet eyes sharpening with interest. Leto glanced at Hawat, who gave a slight nod, his calculating mind already considering the possible scenarios.

“Patch them through,” Leto ordered, standing from his seat. His eyes flicked to Aelor, and he gestured for him to join. “We’ll find out what this is about.”

Moments later, the room was filled with the crackle of the comm system coming to life. Duncan’s voice, steady but with a hint of tension, echoed through the room.

“My Lord, we’ve secured the area,” Duncan began. “The Harkonnens have retreated for now, but there’s something else you need to know.”

Leto exchanged a quick glance with Hawat before answering. “Go on, Duncan.”

There was a brief pause before Duncan spoke again. “We’ve… captured someone. A young woman. She says her name is Daenys. Daenys Targaryen.”

At that, Aelor’s calm demeanor shifted instantly. His eyes widened, and he stepped closer to the comm system, his voice filled with sudden urgency. “I wish to speak with my sister.”

Leto, sensing the importance of the moment, didn’t hesitate. “Duncan, Gurney, Daenys’ brother is here. He wishes to speak with her. Patch her through.”

There was a brief moment of silence, followed by the sound of static as the comm system adjusted. Then, a new voice came through, heated, full of frustration and defiance.

“Aelor!” you said, your voice sharp, cutting through the distance like a blade. “What the hell are you doing?”

Aelor’s reaction was instant, the tension in his shoulders releasing slightly as he heard your voice. His response came swiftly, spoken in the fluid, melodic language of High Valyrian.

“Lykirys, jorrāelagon, līragon issa kesīr. Nykēla ñuha hāedar naejot ivestragīr.” 

Leto and Hawat exchanged a quick glance, both of them recognizing the ancient language but unable to understand its meaning. Leto’s mind, however, was elsewhere—focused not on the words, but on the sound of your voice. It was sharp, yes, but there was a melodic quality to it, a tone that stood out even in the midst of the moment.

Aelor spoke again, his voice softening slightly as he continued to address you in High Valyrian. For a brief moment, the storm of emotions seemed to calm between you both.

After a few moments of conversation, Aelor turned back to Leto, his expression more composed now. “I need to retrieve my sister, Duke Leto,” he said, his voice firm. “She is of great importance to our House.”

Leto nodded, the decision already made. “Duncan, Gurney—send me your coordinates. We will come to you.”

Duncan’s voice came through again, clear and direct. “Understood, my Lord. Coordinates incoming.”

Leto took a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The impossible had become reality. House Targaryen was not only alive—it was standing before him, and the choices he made now would shape the future of House Atreides, for better or worse.

“Let’s move,” Leto said quietly to Aelor and Hawat. “We have a lot to discuss.”

The sky above the frozen plains of Arctis was a swirling gray, but through the storm, two banners flew proudly in the icy wind. A red hawk in flight on green and black, the proud sigil of House Atreides, stood side by side with a red three-headed dragon on black, the ancient and feared symbol of House Targaryen. The two House banners, both powerful in their own right, flapped together in the cold air as the transports descended toward the meeting coordinates.

Leto Atreides sat in the lead transport, his mind racing as they neared their destination. Beside him, Thufir Hawat sat in contemplative silence, his Mentat mind already running through countless calculations. Aelor Targaryen, seated across from them, was composed, though the slight tension in his jaw betrayed his concern for his sister.

As soon as the transport landed with a soft thud on the snow-covered ground, the doors slid open. The cold wind rushed in, but before anyone could react, Aelor was already on his feet, stepping out into the snow with purpose. The Atreides soldiers followed suit, along with Leto, Hawat, and Sergeant Kellor.

Aelor spotted his sister immediately, her figure standing tall in the distance, surrounded by Atreides soldiers. Without hesitation, he rushed toward her, his cloak billowing in the wind as he moved across the snow with surprising speed.

You saw him approaching and, despite the tension of the situation, allowed yourself a brief moment of relief. Aelor reached you and without a word, he embraced you tightly, his arms wrapping around you in a gesture of both protection and reassurance.

“Lykirys, jorrāelagon,” Aelor whispered in High Valyrian as he held you, his voice soft, meant only for your ears. You had been through so much, and yet here he was, just as you had known he would be.

When Aelor finally stepped back, there was a flash of warmth in his violet eyes as he looked you over, ensuring you were unharmed. He then gently took your hand and turned to lead you toward the gathered Atreides men.

As you approached the Atreides soldiers, Duke Leto, Hawat, and Sergeant Kellor stood in quiet observation, taking in the scene before them. Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck were still standing near the transports, their faces reflecting a mixture of surprise and wariness at the unfolding events.

Aelor led you to stand before the Duke, who was visibly taken aback the moment his eyes landed on you. Though he recovered quickly, the brief flicker of surprise in his expression didn’t go unnoticed by Hawat. The Mentat’s sharp eyes caught the Duke’s subtle reaction—his gaze lingering a fraction longer than usual on your face, perhaps noting your striking resemblance to your brother, or perhaps something else entirely. Hawat filed the observation away in the recesses of his mind, a detail to be discussed later.

Leto, however, was quick to compose himself. He offered you a respectful nod, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke, his voice steady. “Lady Daenys, it is an honor to meet you, though I wish it were under less perilous circumstances.”

You met Leto’s gaze, your posture regal despite the harsh conditions. “Duke Leto,” you acknowledged, your voice firm but respectful. “The peril is far from over. I fear the Harkonnens will not stop at their defeat here.”

Leto nodded thoughtfully. “That’s precisely why we need to discuss the situation further. The Harkonnens won’t let this go. We’ll need a plan to contain them.”

Aelor glanced at you, then back to Leto. “My sister is right. The Harkonnens have learned of the underground structures beneath this planet. If they know about this place, they’ll soon search for more. Every world we’ve known that contains these structures will draw their attention.”

At that, Leto frowned slightly. The gravity of the situation was clear—this was no isolated conflict. The Harkonnens were after something much larger than just control of Arctis.

Thufir Hawat, standing beside Leto, broke his silence, his sharp eyes locking onto you for a moment before addressing the group. “We must assume that the Harkonnens will use any information they’ve gathered here to pursue your House further. If they know of the structures, they won’t stop until they’ve uncovered whatever they believe to be of value.”

Sergeant Kellor, ever the practical soldier, crossed his arms, his gaze shifting between Aelor and you. “What exactly are these underground structures? What do the Harkonnens think they’ll find?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Aelor, and for a moment, there was a silent conversation between you—an unspoken understanding. You had both known this day would come, but it didn’t make it any easier to explain.

“These structures,” you began, your voice measured, “are remnants of our ancient civilization. Some of them were once hatcheries, places where our dragons were born. Though the dragons themselves are long gone from there, the Harkonnens believe they can extract something of value from what remains.”

Leto’s gaze hardened as the weight of your words settled in. “The Harkonnens believe they can use your history to gain power.”

Aelor nodded. “They will stop at nothing to claim what they think gains them leverage.”

Hawat’s mind worked quickly, processing the implications. “Then we need to ensure that they never get that chance.”

Leto met Aelor’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. Whatever else was happening here, the Harkonnens were a common enemy, and for now, that was enough to unite their Houses.

“We’ll work together,” Leto said, his tone decisive. “We’ll put a stop to the Harkonnens, but we need more information. We need to know the full extent of their plans.”

You stepped forward, your voice calm but insistent. “I can help you with that. I know what they’re after. And I know how to stop them.”

Leto studied you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, before nodding. “Then let’s begin.”

...

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the cruel and ambitious heir to House Harkonnen, stood at the center of the command room, his back to his men, staring down at a tactical map of Arctis. His fingers clenched into fists, his knuckles white with barely contained rage.

The silence was suffocating, broken only by the low hum of machinery and the distant howl of the blizzard. Feyd's men, hardened and ruthless as they were, stood rigid, afraid to speak but knowing they couldn’t stay silent for long. They had failed—again—and there would be consequences.

Finally, one of the soldiers, braver or perhaps more foolish than the rest, cleared his throat and spoke, his voice shaky. "My Lord, the girl… she managed to escape. The storm provided cover, and our forces were scattered. We—we lost her in the confusion."

Feyd turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the man who had dared to speak. His face was a mask of barely controlled anger, his lips curling into a sneer. "She escaped?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "One girl… against an entire Harkonnen strike force, and she escaped?"

The soldier swallowed hard, his throat bobbing nervously. "Yes, my Lord. The storm—"

"The storm?!" Feyd exploded, slamming his fist onto the table, sending the holographic projection flickering. His voice echoed through the tent, and every man within it recoiled at the sudden outburst. "The storm is no excuse for incompetence! She’s a single target, and you let her slip through your fingers like sand!"

He began to pace, his hands flexing and unflexing as his mind raced, the fury building with each step. "And now… not only has the girl escaped, but the Atreides are here. They’ve joined forces with the Targaryens." His voice dripped with venom at the mention of House Atreides, his family’s ancient enemies.

One of his lieutenants, a man with a scar running down his face, stepped forward cautiously, trying to keep his voice calm in the face of Feyd’s wrath. "My Lord, the Atreides forces have bolstered the Targaryens’ position. They outnumber us now, and our operation is compromised. If we continue this conflict, it will draw the gaze of the Emperor… and the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood."

Feyd stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he looked at the lieutenant. "The Emperor? The Sisterhood? And do you think I care about their gaze?"

The lieutenant opened his mouth to respond, but Feyd cut him off, his voice colder than before. "You think they don’t already know? You think they aren’t watching? We are all pawns in their game, but make no mistake, I will not be humiliated by Atreides dogs and Targaryen ghosts!"

His words hung in the air, the weight of his threat clear to everyone in the room. Feyd had no intention of retreating, no intention of admitting defeat. His hatred for House Atreides ran deep, and the very idea of their forces allying with the Targaryens had ignited a fury that could not be easily quelled.

The tent fell into a heavy silence, the soldiers exchanging uneasy glances. They knew better than to argue with their commander when he was like this. No one wanted to be the one to deliver more bad news—or face the consequences of his wrath.

After what felt like an eternity, another soldier, younger and clearly less experienced, nervously cleared his throat. "My Lord," he ventured carefully, "what… what should we do about the Targaryen girl?"

For a moment, the tent was silent again, but this time it was different. Feyd stopped pacing, his expression shifting from anger to something more sinister—something almost amused. A slow, twisted smile spread across his face, and he chuckled darkly.

"Oh, don’t worry about her," he said softly, his voice dripping with malice. "I’ll catch her. She can’t run forever."

He turned back to the map, his eyes gleaming with a cruel light as he traced the coordinates of their last known position. "Daenys Targaryen may have escaped for now, but she’s made a fatal mistake. She’s shown us just how far she’s willing to run. And when we catch her… well, I’ll make sure she regrets every step she took."

His men remained silent, their unease palpable. Feyd’s mood had shifted, but it hadn’t improved. The promise of what was to come for Daenys Targaryen and her allies was not one of mercy.

Feyd turned back to his men, his tone hardening again. "We’ll regroup and press on. This failure—your failure—will be delivered personally to the Baron." He smiled coldly at the thought of his uncle, knowing the consequences for his men would be severe.

"But until then," he added, his voice dangerously soft, "we hunt. And when we find the girl, we’ll make sure the Atreides and the Targaryens learn that no one crosses House Harkonnen and lives to tell the tale."

The soldiers nodded in grim silence, knowing there was no room for argument. The hunt would continue, and this time, there would be no escape.

Feyd’s eyes gleamed with the cold fire of vengeance as he turned back to the map. He had no intention of letting this go. House Targaryen, House Atreides—they would all pay. And it would start with you, Daenys.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

For soulmates friday can I suggest KHR Guardian bonds being forged soulbonds ? Or just anything KHR even crossovers

Centers, the normal world called them. People able to forge bonds with anyone. Most people only had writings in black upon their hands. Centers though could make coloured ones appear, and orange ones would paint their skin.

Everyone was obsessed with them. Destined for greatness they would say. The Mafia agrees.

Skies leaders for a reason.

So, when a woman from a minor family discovered the fact Iemitsu Sawada had sealed his own son, a Sky, she reported it.

Along with the fact Son Vongola helped.

Both were ripped from their seats, and Enrico Vongola became tenth. He ordered his cousin unsealed and to be left alone.

Sawada Tsuna was unsealed on a rainy day at age ten. The kids were picking on him then… warmth.

Takeshi suddenly felt drawn to the boy. “Hey, Tsuna-” Takeshi began, feeling odd.

Blue writing burned into Takeshi’s hand as Tauna spoke, “It’s so warm…” At the same time orange light shone from Tsuna’s cheek.

It was the start. No one really knew how Tsuna suddenly become a center until a comment about Iemitsu dropping him on his head came from Nana.

Then people figures they knew

Yellow joined blue one day, from a very loud boxing fan. He adored it and his new little brother.

Purple came next, from a very vicious prefect. The boy did not hate it.

Green came from a little boy during a visit to Italy Tsuna felt compelled to go on. A little boy easily taken from uncaring relatives. Who only lasted realized he'd been taken by a Sky.

Red came from a hitman who was sent after a spare, civilian though he was. A silver-haired teen could not leave his Sky. Ever.

Violet came from a Girl and a Boy so intwined. A boy who came looking to seek ruin and found peace. A girl who only knew ruin discovering peace.

Tsuna was a center. And as he settles into a life where his family surrounded him, carving their own world order, he felt content.

(Until a spirit decided the Giotto look alike deserved to be Vongola, a long broken bond tugging at his soul.)

[e04kj0125]

Crack fic/drabble

A scenario wherein Xavier does not end up in the earth of the past but rather a strange world where the elements almost seemed to be alive. . . and is that jelly moving?

genshin x love and deepspace crossover au

word count: 1273

Xavier hissed through his teeth as he slowly gained consciousness His body tensed as he grabbed his sword and took in his surroundings.

A verdant and lively land brimming with life. He knew looks could be deceiving but waking in such a land a contrast to his own decaying world was rather. . . odd.

At the thought of his homeland images of her flashed through his mind.

He needed to get up and possibly find the rest of his crew. Xavier had a promise to fulfill, he would be damned to give up now. It seemed he woke up in a clearing of sorts. Above the skies were white birds leisurely flying, the leaves rustled as birds chirped, and on the ground, a squirrel seeing his figure ran in the other direction. It seemed like this world's flora and fauna was not too far off from his home. Yet there were no signs of his ship or his crew. The place where he woke up provided no clue how he ended up there just a patch of grass.

As he scouted his surroundings he noted what looks like to be some sort of structure from the distance. It likely meant there were people nearby, it could help him to gather information on where he was but where there were people there was also danger. There was no telling what they would do to him, a stranger such as him.

With no other clues about where to go Xavier marched towards the structure, soon it became evident it was a stone statue. In the middle of a lake stood a man or a woman clothed in robes with wings holding a smoothed round stone with no markings. The statue was old showing its age with cracks yet it was well taken care of with no moss or other coverings.

A familiar sound of footsteps came from the back and he swung his sword in stance watching his assailant, who looked at him with wide eyes. In one hand the person held a lyre and the other was open showing off his palm.

"Woah! Easy there, outlander, I did not come with harm."

The young man continued to have his one free hand open, recognizing the universal sign of peace he sheathed his sword.

"Apologies I was startled," his voice was a bit dry, how long was he unconscious?

The young man laughed reminding Xavier of the sounds of wind chimes.

"It is alright with the way you landed here anyone would be startled."

Xavier narrowed his eyes his grip on the handle of his sword tightening.

"Ohh pardon me I must have startled you again," he waved his free hand," A while back I saw a shooting star landing near Starfell Lake, being curious I followed the trail but instead of a meteor crater I found a strange sleeping man," he says and points at Xavier.

"I had actually bought some first aid kid," he shakes the backpack on his shoulder, "but when I returned the strange man was totally gone."

Xavier blinked the hand on his hilt less tense,carefully he removed his grip.

"I see I must have startled you as well, apologies."

The green-clad man shook his hand as if waving away his concern.

"Never mind outlander-"

"Venti where are you?!"

A man dressed in black with a vivid red mane of hair came out of the forest and that is how Xavier got acquainted with Venti the bard and Diluc the winery owner. An odd bunch and a strange combination, from what he could gather from the clothes they were wearing to their occupation this land seemed primitive and behind on technology compared to Philos, yet the first aid kid was well put together and clean. The two strangers oddly did not ask how and why Xiaver was here, which raised some of his concerns but for now, he would follow and see where it goes

They arrived at the stone bridge pigeons flying away as carts and horses traveled from one side to the other. The bridge led to the entrance of the city called Mondstadt.

Xavier was left behind with Venti as Diluc talked to the guards. Venti laughed and patted him on his back. He must have noticed Xavier's tenseness. It wasn't too long before Diluc came back and they were able to enter the city, Xavier had to wonder if it was this easy to enter a guarded city with no identification or that Diluc had that much influence.

The city itself reminded him of paintings and pictures he had seen in history books. People dressed in a similar manner that was mentioned in the same books, they looked carefree and happy not a single worry that their land might wither and die out someday.

"we will take you to the church they have rooms for travelers that have nowhere to go and don't worry it is very nice there and the people working there are kind as well!" the bard chirped, boasting about it proudly.

With that Xavier was taken further north of the city and a giant winged stone statue stood in the plaza with who he assumed was the same winged deity he saw at the lake.

Before he knew it he was at the church entrance and the sky was turning darker. Venti spoke with some nuns who looked at Xavier with pity that almost made him look away from their eyes for..

"I will have to leave now there is some business I have to take care of, Venti will meet you in the morning."

"Hehe, going already master Diluc? Don't worry Xavier we won't just ditch you off see you in the morning I also got some work to do."

The two left shortly after that. Xavier was escorted to a modest rustic-looking room yet it was clean and he could tell the linen was fresh.

Xavier sat on the bed and took a deep breath.

He would love nothing more than to hit his head against the bed and let sleep take over his mind, yet his body was too jittery. Where was he? Where were his crew members what happened to the ship? His circumstances were too strange and his memories before he woke up were hazy at best.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock.

He rose up and carefully opened the door a hand at the hilt of his sword.

There, at the door was her.

His star.

.

.

.

.

.

With a tray in hand, she stood there in the nun's attire, not looking out of place in the church walls.

"The other nuns told me to deliver your meal you must have had a rough trip from what I heard."

Her voice was like heaven itself he wanted to say something, anything, or perhaps he wanted to run and hug her breathing in her scent to commit to memory. It has been far too long since he had seen or been near her presence.

"Y-yes thank you," he hated how he stammered his words out.

She casually went inside of his room and he stepped back to make room for her. She put the tray on the wooden desk and smiled.

"I hope you enjoy your meal and get some rest."

Xavier was dumbfounded unable to say anything before she could leave he had to say something.

"Wait," he took a breath.

"Yes?"

She paused mid-step her beautiful smile still on her face.

"Can I ask for your name?" he hated how low his voice got and rubbed at his neck.

"it is Semiramis, pleased to meet you."

[lazerswordweilder]

What, those aren’t in the same universe- yes they are. <<<the thoughts running through my head when I made a crossover of Marvel, Star Wars, Danny Phantom (Dannys stays in Amity and never leaves though, he literally just happens to become a halfa) and DC.

(Its important to note this was written in 2024)

A fact known to Anakin and Anakin alone is that Obi-Wan was reincarnated to take part in Star Wars. He was born in the year 1849 on earth, it was the earth we exist on today, only the future differs. His name was John Kyle, an archeologist who is a retired medic from a long forgotten war but also had unofficial diplomatic and fighting training from various tight spots. Years ago John found a child lying in the desert.

Anakin however has simple been alive all those years. He was born in a desert to a human mother captured by scientists ahead of their times, the experimented on her, and he was born from it. He lay on the desert dying for years, his unwelcome powers keeping him alive and suffering, this sparked his hatred, of the desert, of the sand, of the scientists. The only thing he remembered were his mother’s dying words “Anakin, you’ll- you’ll be so great, you’ll walk the skies.” as she succumbed to her wounds after giving birth, at least he remembers his name Anakin.

Anakin grew up under John, John becoming the father he never had. By the time he was 20 the war had ended but it scarred him, he never forgot the screams. By the time he was 25 he had stopped aging, blaming the scientists and not explaining his past to John out of fear of rejection. By the time he was 34 and John was 52 John thought he had connected the dots, his apprentice had stolen an artifact they’d both been hunting for and it had carried an ancient plage or power that slowed him down from aging! One day while exploring a volcano it turned active, John saw his chance and pushed the boy in and ran.

Anakin burnt alive, his anger roaring up inside of him the same time a natural portal to the ghost zone opened up in the volcano. Anakins eyes turned fire red, the blood in his veins turned to lava, his rage burnt hotter than the lava ever could. Anakin becomes an oxymoron, even beyond the fact he’s half alive half dead, he died in lava yet his weakness is water (guy never learnt how to swim, after being held underwater and nearly drowned he never really got over it), all ghosts hate what killed them and have weaknesses to it, Anakins death is his power. He takes on an apparence which is basically what he looks like normally but with fangs, sometimes his eyes reflect light or glow though, and when he gets mad his skin heats up, turning charred and what should be exposed flesh turns into lava below the charred skin, also his hair starts to turn to flame. Anakins obsession is revenge and his core is permanently stained with rage.

By the time Anakin gets out a grip on his powers World War 1 starts drafting with the year being 1914, Anakin (despite technically being dead) immediately decides that’s a good idea for blowing off steam and also a way to get actually military experience to murder John with. He hacks a comuptor and signs himself up, putting in his photo, his medical stuff, experience, and everything else on the form, then as he stares at the name box he remembers he’s meant to be dead, he choses a fitting name, Achilles. Achilles wrath matched Anakins rage, Achilles heel matched Anakins weakness to water, and hopefully Anakin will be able to bring the name Achilles some more modern glory.

He gets his dog tag and as sits in a cart heading to war with the rest of his team, Anakin runs his finger over the ingraving in it, careful not to melt it, Achilles. As bordom sets in he remembered other stories of ancient greek, more specifically Aphrodite Areia, Areia was an epithet meaning war like and it seperated Aphrodite Areia from her more commenly known version Aphrodite. He supposes he needs one to if there are to be two great Achilles, in his head he starts referring to himself as Anakin Achilles.

After 4 years at war and another year spent wandering the contry Anakin comes back to where he knows John is just to find out he died of old age around the time the war ended at 68, despite this being quite impressive despite modern medican Anakin promptly decides to go jump into another volcano. It is like a warm bath. But it cheered Anakin up- seriously, who knew volcanos were so nice when you weren’t burning alive?

After this he grabs the blackest clothes he can find and knows will be easy to move in, some fabric which he wraps around his face from nose to chin, tucks his dog tag safely into his clothes, and walked into the nearest bar he knew had shady dealing going on. He promptly intoduced himself as an assasin looking for training and gets pointed to a table full of tough looking people.

Two years later he’s been an assasin apprentice for years, under someone he thinks is called Ra Ah Ghoul. Anakin serves the guy for another 4 years despite thinking he’s kind of an asshole, then runs away. He’s learnt enough to avoid most of Ghouls traps and makes it out with a minor stab wound, he doesn’t really have organs anymore so he’s not worried.

He does take a moment to sit on someones roof top and stare at the stars, he thinks back to his first memories and remembers with a small laugh, the one you give when you’re shocked and in awe and a little breathless but happy, he knows his full name now, his birth name, Anakin Skywalker. He thinks fondly about it and feels like a child for the first time in years, staring up the the stars with the last thing his mother gave him, his name, just for a moment Anakins rage is fully forgotten.

Suddenly he feels to small, he looks down a sees the chubby hands of a baby, he actually physically blinks at that. He can work with this, his life is over due for a bit of normal anyways, he stores his dog tag (the only thing he has attachment to) inside his rib cage using a helpful bit of intangibility and floats down to the door step. He can hear a young, kind, childless couple inside.

Anakin- now named William, danced with his wife, Julia Lotis. He was so truely smitten with her and for the first time in so long he loved the domestic life style, Julia had finally quited the rage always simmering in his core, she was his Angel. He brought Julia in for a kiss and admired her, her long chocolate hair, her warm brown eyes that seemed like cozy fires during the winter rather then his uncontrolled rage. He swung her around in a circle and reached out to catch her when her eyes went wide, he caught her lifeless- pulseless- breathless- body and stared.

He stared at her for a long time, trying to hold back the cracks in his core, but it was like reading a book when the ending was so obvious. He conculded he was going to kill everyone within the city once he got out of shock, Anakin dropped his Angel to the floor, moving to the cupboard on autopilot, he grabbed his darkest clothes and put them on, the knifes he had hidden away just in case were quickly hidden in the folds of his outfit, he pulled out his dog tag, letting it’s reasuring weight lay heavy on his chest.

He walked all the way to Gotham, he didn’t even move as it hailed and stormed, as the ground shook and trees collapses. He walked to Metropolis, it was 1975, anyone who knew anything knew the Justice League was looking for new hires, he wasn’t looking for a job but if he could get to one of the interviews then he’d be immediately be recognised as a threat and subdued.

He stormed into the daily planet building where he knew at least Superman was holding interviews, he scared everyone out of the elevator with a death glare and walked straight into the room he could hear Superman talking in, he pushed open the door “Uh, interviews are over.” Superman abruptly paused, probably taking in Anakins disheveled and disassociating self, Anakin ignored the knife that dropped to the ground “Are you- here for an interview?” Superman asked. Anakin glared at him and jumped Superman as red over took his vision.

Anakin woke up in a cell, a wary Superman stood in front of him dripping his lava “If- you could’ve just said you had fire powers.” Superman said, Anakin sagged down into the chains and Superman looked at him for a second before realisation hit him “You weren’t here to show us your powers, you’re here so we could stop you.” Superman was suddenly no longer hesitant “Sounds like a hero to me, I think we’ve got your powers down, but if you want a spot in the League I only need your name.” It doesn’t take him a second to answer “Achilles.”

By 2002 it was doomsday, for the third time this month. The hero thing certainly wasn’t boring, and various other heros had helped Anakin gain an appreciation for technology, he was a technopath. Any

This is getting way too long, also I accidentally queued it so I’ll just reblog with more.

[ultimateoptimus]

"Happy 10th Birthday, Lucián and Longina Mertens-Bubblegum!"

10 Years Ago: UltimateOptimus (that's me!), recently getting into Cartoon Network's then-new Next Gen cartoon Adventure Time and fusing said cartoon's characters with his cool boys' toys stuff such as Transformers, Superheroes and heroScape, breathes with his pencils graphite and color and of his hyperactive imagination life into his Fubblegum (Finn X Princess Bubblegum) fanchildren Lucián and Longina Mertens-Bubblegum, firstborn twin son and daughter of Finn Mertens and Princess Bubblegum, then known as Liberátusz and Tsukimiya Mertens-Bonnibel of the Mertens-Bonnibel Crusade, as a heroScape Adventure Time expansion set of fictional crossover Adventure Time X heroScape collectible miniatures for said collectible miniature wargame.

And the rest was fanchild history.

Today: Lucián and Longina Mertens-Bubblegum turn 10 years old.

Young Lucián and Young Longina, the Mertens-Bubblegum Twins, clad in their school uniforms - Young Lucián in his Hub Island Academy Young Helper's Boys' Stuffed Collar Gakuran Nostalgic Student Uniform M with his Battle Mask/Battle Control Headset styled after his hat with built-in Better Reality Smart SuperComputer and his green Cyber-Hammerspace School TekBackpack (School supplies, from exercise books through pencils graphite and color to schoolbooks, to haul to school and back? Cyber-Hammerspace School Backpack.) and Young Longina in her Candy Kingdom Royal Academy Girls' Sailor Collar Serafuku Nostalgic Student Uniform F with her Girls' School Glasses with built-in Candy Kingdom Smart SuperComputer and personal Candy Kingdom Royal Academy Girls' School Royal Crown Headset with built-in Better Reality Smart SuperComputer and her pink Cyber-Hammerspace School TekBackpack like Dad Finn and Mom Bubblegum in their School Days before them, with Lucián's Legacy Weapon the MertensCaliburn and Longina's Legacy Weapon the BonnibelHammer in their Chibi Necklace Mode, Lucián's Chibi Finn Hairpin Token and Longina's Chibi Bubblegum Hairpin Token and blue-red roses pinned to their hairstyle, each side reflecting their father's and mother's DNA side, just turned 10 years old today as they went with Dad Finn and Mom Bubblegum outside the Grasslands in a beautiful Summer morning with clear azure skies and brightly shining sun above and rolling fields of Empyrrean green grass and an Edenic garden of blue-red roses with flights of Sapphire Comettail Butterflies and Bubblegum Honey Bees around them (with one of each - the Sapphire Comettail Butterfly being the crest bug of their dad's side and the Bubblegum Honey Bee the crest bug of their mom's side - resting on one such rose) and a rain of blue and pink rose petals flying all around them in the summer air, the Mertens-Bubblegum Twins were greeted with a Islands of Man/Candy Kingdom Tek Laser Flag that immediately unfurls when our young human/bubblegum mutant hybrid heroes first find it into a majestic laser flag that bears the Butterfly and Honeybee Crests and reads:

"Happy 10th Birthday! Lucián and Longina Dad and Mom"

Lucián, Longina, Finn and Bubblegum set themselves for the perfect birthday photoshoot with all the ingredients needed: rose-covered grasslands, rose petal rain, Sapphire Comettail Butterfly and Bubblegum Honey Bee Queen resting on a blue-pink rose, the Birthday Banner and of course the Mertens-Bubblegum Twins themselves and the holo-camera took the photo as soon as the Twins said the tagline:

"OK, Lucián and Longina! Say "Adventure Time!" "ADVENTURE TIME!"

The rest, again, is history.

@fubblegummers @aae-demon-zone333 @ppgxrrblove

[bakerstmel]

Fall Favorite Fic Festival, Entry 4

I'm writing this in Memphis, TN, and I can't see any red trees from my hotel window. Too far south to have gotten started, maybe. It's been very overcast. I'm here for a professional meeting, and as is always the case, they've had the AC set to "violent" in the meeting rooms and I don't know that I'll ever be warm again. You know how if you've ever gotten a sunburn, the water in the shower is warmer when it hits your feet than when it comes out of the showerhead, because it's been heated by your skin? My showers here have been the complete opposite of that.

All that to say, I'm still feeling sad, still feeling lonely, definitely facing an anniversary reaction from my sister's passing, and still quite intentionally drowning my sorrows in fic.

I had the best, most angsty fic in mind for this entry, like, call and warn @221bjen level angst, but then one day, this manip came to mind, for no particular reason:

and oh, yeah, baby. I couldn't sign into AO3 fast enough. If you know, you know, and if you don't, you've got to read:

Whiteout, by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John

I will spare your TL by adding a cut here.

This is a fic I re-read fairly often for sheer pleasure, but that is not to say it's fluff. The author tries in the notes to make it sound like fluff, but it's Sherlock and John as part of an aerial rescue team at the freaking Matterhorn and there is ice and danger and multiple CPR events and Greg Lestrade speaking French and secrets and tears and all kinds of relationship drama and it's JUST NOT FLUFF, OK? However, it is written in a fun documentary style (Shane based it on a documentary he came across on Netflix) with mostly dialogue and camera direction and it is a quick, satisfying read.

I've had the pleasure of betaing for this author in the past, and so I've spent more than a little time thinking about his style. He is an extremely versatile writer, and I think this fic really highlights that. If you compare this style to, say, the highly descriptive and romantic (not just in the relationship way, but also in the world-painted-in-perfect-light-way) Gimme Shelter, you wouldn't necessarily know they were written by the same person within a fairly short block of time (8 months). This fic is crisp, well timed, and quickly paced, with perfectly set points of action, snappy dialogue, and not a lot of down time. Gimme Shelter moves well too, but it's a very different feeling, silky and gentle. It's like the difference between taking a shot of great tequila vs savoring a perfect Cabernet. And if that's not enough for you, please note that SWDYCMJ has also written Priestlock, a skiing OT3, a straight-ahead ghost story, Potterlock, and a Black Mirror crossover that kept me on my toes. Plus, of course, the beautiful Brokeback Mountain fusion that still breaks my heart in all the best ways.

I mentioned in my last entry how the artistry in this fandom continues to knock me out to this day, and Shane's collective work is another prime example.

I don't feel like I'm doing this fic justice, but it's kinda hard for me to talk about without ruining the surprise of it. Even discussing the structure is tricky. Just...go read it. You'll thank me later.