#swift spark and the defense five

[swiftspark]

I don't draw this badass girl enough.

[pan-tastique]

Swift Spark and the Defense Five: OFFICIAL TEASER TRAILER | Pan-tastique

At long last...! Consider this the first OFFICIAL trailer for Swift Spark and the Defense Five, coming to YouTube this August! The only thing that isn't 100% final about this teaser is the sound design, as I cobbled it together myself rather than rushing our sound designer to get it done sooner than we agreed to - releasing this trailer a month early was a split-second decision on my end. Our pilot relies mostly on crowdfunding, so a pledge to our Patreon would be most appreciated - you get a cool look into the behind-the-scenes of it all in return, as well as merch and a loving community!

https://patreon.com/join/swiftspark

[aniqil]

Father-and-Son Duo: Red Spark and Swift Spark!

Both of them belong to @pantastique-art

Art by me

[taoriyu]

Being in charge [Mizu x Reader]

=========== Pairing: Mizu x Reader Rating: T (I guess)

Short description: You are on watch tonight, and your military skills and commanding experience have proven invaluable. No harm was taken, but it seems a certain samurai has developed a taste for moments like these.

Additional warnings: - Things got a bit spicy this time but nothing mature. - An idea of archer reader isn't unique too, but a thought it would be a good match for a party of two melees and one useful handyman (kudos for Ringo)

Also: Mon - a round copper coins with a hole in the center, which were used for everyday transactions (according to ChatGPT).

Lleeet's go

===========

The night enveloped the surroundings in a cloak of brightness and freshness, the air imbued with the enchanting scent of blossoms and grass, mingling with the smoky essence of the fire. You established camp on the outskirts of the forest, sheltered beneath the towering canopy, away from the exposed and vulnerable thoroughfare that traversed the plain. Mizu, Ringo, and Taigen slumbered on their blankets around the crackling campfire, while owls hooted from the depths of the forest and leaves rustled noisily under the gentle caress of the wind, causing the treetops to sway in rhythm. The fire emitted soft, crackling sounds, punctuating the tranquil night of your watching.

Suddenly, a sharp snap shattered the serenity, followed by muted murmurs to your right. From the woods ahead, a hushed sound admonished silence. Metallic clicks echoed from the left, accompanied by the taut, high-pitched twang of a bowstring.

"Alarm! We're under attack!" Your shouts reverberated through the night, punctuated by the resounding clangs of a kitchen hatchet striking a metallic pot, your makeshift cooking vessel with Ringo.

"Ringo, raise your shield! There's an archer to your flank!" With agile reflexes, you leaped aside, narrowly avoiding the trajectory of an arrow.

"Mizu, Taigen, two assailants on my left!" Drawing the string of your bow taut, you hissed through clenched teeth, relying solely on your acute hearing to guide your aim. In the darkness of the forest and the flickering glow of the campfire behind you, discerning silhouettes proved impossible.

Thud. Thud. The sickening sound of arrows finding their mark, followed by the anguished cry of a fallen foe.

Swords clashed and screams erupted to your left. Swiftly, you pivoted, shifting towards the source of the archer's assault. With a swift motion, the archer released another arrow, only to find it stuck in an old shield repurposed as a makeshift table — a handy thing you and Ringo had devised for your cooking endeavors, now proving invaluable in defense.

Inhale. Aim. Exhale slowly. As your heartbeat steadied, time seemed to dilate. The assailant moved. Thud. Thud. The last of them fell.

You released a pent-up breath, surveying the aftermath.

"Are you alright, Ringo?" A nod confirmed his well-being as he rose from his defensive stance behind the shield.

"Mizu, Taigen, are you unharmed?" Your voice echoed through the night, seeking assurance from your comrades.

"We're fine," Taigen grumbled, emerging from the shadows along with Mizu.

Taigen retired to his blanket, voicing discontent, while Ringo extracted an arrow from the shield with attachable forceps.

"Mizu, with me. We need to inspect the fallen. The rest of you, remain vigilant. There may be more." Your directive was met with a quizzical glance from Mizu, but she acquiesced, falling into step beside you.

Three of the bodies yielded almost nothing: five mon, a bundle of poor-quality arrows, and no clues about the origin of the bandits. As you approached the last body, hidden in the shadows, Mizu spoke up.

"So, you're taking control tonight," she remarked quietly, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips, her eyes ignited with a certain spark.

"Perhaps I am," you responded, surprised by your own audacity, which failed to conceal the crimson hue coloring your ears.

Mizu's smile widened as she closed the distance between you, her stature seeming even taller in that moment.

"Command me then," Mizu murmured softly, trailing her knuckles across your cheek. Redness spread across your face, and your mouth fell open. Staring into her crystal blue eyes, dozens of thoughts raced through your mind, adrenaline amplifying every heartbeat.

Wait, what? She's serious? I thought she was mocking me. It's impossible, right? Gods, what do I do? Being in charge in battle is one thing. Commanding her right now is another. Maybe I should run? Coward. Argh!

Feeling as if you were standing on a cliff, you swallowed dryly and shifted your gaze to Mizu's lips. A faint pink blush colored her cheekbones too. To hell with it, you thought, and made a leap of faith.

"Kiss me then," you said, smiling nervously.

"I obey," Mizu whispered, propping up your chin and moving closer. Her tongue brushed against your bottom lip, making you gasp and hold your breath. She parted your lips and deepened the kiss. You felt like you were falling, your face hot and your fingers cold. A pulling sensation started to form inside your belly as the kiss grew more intense. Mizu let out a low, muted moan, sucking your bottom lip before parting from you. Both of you panted heavily, staring at each other with longing, unfocused gazes.

"Guys! Any discoveries?" Taigen's interruption shattered the moment.

Mizu’s eyes darted around, trying to focus. She gasped shortly, as if waking from a dream.

“Nothing interesting,” she shouted back to the camp.

She looked at you again, smiling cunningly. "I like when you're in charge," she said quietly, tapping the tip of your nose before heading back to the camp.

[rotworld]

16: Trust Fall

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

trapped on a remote outpost, you send distress signals into the void while waiting for salvation. just when you've nearly lost all hope, it arrives--with blood and death.

->warhammer 40k. original drukhari character/reader. explicit; contains dub-con, implied non-con, conditioning, mindbreak, sadism, unhealthy d/s dynamic, implied captivity.

.

.

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“This is Outpost Urania One-Five-Oh, requesting immediate assistance. I repeat, this is Outpost Urania One-Five-Oh, requesting immediate assistance.” 

The cogitator is dying. It spits sparks, internal cooling systems whirring loudly. The metal casing thrums blisteringly hot. Beneath cracked glass screens, monochrome green displays flicker with warnings and error messages. You have to keep jostling the tangle of thick cables running along the floor and manually resetting the broadcast settings. Toggle “distress signal.” Select “priority - high.” Crank the range knob, again, to make sure the signal reaches orbit, then try to keep your voice firm and steady until it all goes dark and you have to start over.

“This is Outpost Urania One-Five-Oh, requesting immediate assistance,” you say. You order a scan, watching waveforms inch slowly across a rudimentary map of the system. “Situation dire. Life support systems failing. Unknown fatalities. Requesting immediate assistance—” 

Your voice cracks and you press your hand over your mouth, muffling a sob. You inhale shakily. Exhale, fighting a whimper. You can do this. You just have to stay calm. Someone will come. The slow pulse of emergency lights drapes a red glow across your back. The cogitator falls dormant and you hold your breath until it blinks back to life. A cluster of dots suddenly appears on the scanner, blinking slowly across the screen. 

“This is Outpost Urania One-Five-Oh,” you say quickly, rattling off all the necessary proclamations with your heart in your throat. Please answer, you think desperately. You pick at the thick, thermal material of your maintenance uniform, scratching anxiously at the high turtleneck collar. Moments pass in agonizing silence. Your breathing quickens into hyperventilation. “This…this is…”

“Copy, Urania One-Five-Oh.” The voice is stern, every word sharp and clearly enunciated. “This is the Righteous Edict of Patrol Fleet Cobalt-Prime. Describe the nature of your emergency.” 

A patrol fleet! You have to collect yourself, your relief so powerful it almost becomes panic again. “I’m—it’s, uh—” You stop. Deep breaths. You’re so tired and hungry and afraid, but you’re going to get out of here. You just have to keep it together a little longer. “We were attacked. It happened so fast. It was xenos, I think, I didn’t—I’m just a menial. Our orbital defenses are gone and our systems are failing. There’s not many of us left, we were ordered to salvage what’s left but it’s—it’s really not looking good.” 

“Copy.” Another long pause. You watch the dots on the scanner hover in place. They’ll stop, won’t they? They’ll help you? They have to. You pull and pick at the turtleneck of your uniform again, your breath coming in quick, shallow puffs. They have to. They have to. You can’t do this anymore. The communications chamber is deathly silent. There’s no one here but you and the dust in the air and the mess of cords and cables forming knots and webs across the metal floor. The ventilation occasionally wheezes. Coolant leaks from a busted machine chassis in the corner. The emergency lights grow dimmer with each passing hour and you’re starting to see things in the shadows. Swift, moving shapes. Cruel eyes and sharp smiles. 

There’s nothing there. Probably. 

“Forwarding your location via astropathic relay,” the Righteous Edict reports. “Regrettably, we can’t render aid. We’re en route to Lothal to rendezvous—” 

“No, please!” You’re frantic. You can’t help your outburst. “We’ve already been here, waiting, for weeks. Everything is shutting down. Our tech priests are missing, we can’t keep the outpost running anymore! We’re almost out of rations and with all of our defenses down, we’re sitting ducks. Can’t you just…we need help, we need to leave!”  

“Compose yourself, Urania One-Five-Oh,” comes the cold reply. “You are speaking to a Naval Commissar. I cannot divert the entire fleet for a single outpost when we are needed elsewhere. By the grace of the God-Emperor, your message has been received and will be passed along.” 

You’re going to be sick. Your head is spinning and your pulse is racing, cold tendrils of despair squeezing your heart. It could be months before someone comes across this remote corner of the galaxy again. Years, if the tides of the warp set them astray. The communication chamber becomes smears of gray-green and blinking red through your tears. 

“Please don’t leave me here,” you beg, your voice quivering. “Please, I can’t…there’s, there’s supplies! We have supplies, weapons, you can take whatever you want! You can—” You have to think, you have to offer him something. Lothal, he said. They’re going to Lothal. That’s a Forge World. To rendezvous, not for repairs. What does that mean? A meeting? A political maneuver? Supporting an Explorator fleet, maybe. He’s a Commissar, he’s probably going to talk to someone important. He’d want the upper hand in negotiations. “The Magos, he said…he told us we have to get the device somewhere safe. Too risky to keep them here anymore.”

“Device?” The reply comes much faster this time. “What device? Describe it.” 

He’s listening. He’s interested. You have to think fast. “Oh, it’s…it’s not too big. Not tiny, either. Metallic. Sort of oddly-shaped. There’s some sort of interface on it but I was told not to touch it. The Magos made it display a pict once but I’m not sure what it showed. He called it a ‘blessed blueprint.’”

You wait in suffocating silence. One of the emergency lights sputters out. You can smell a sharp chemical stench coming from somewhere, burning and corrosive in your nose. The whole outpost seems to groan and creak around you, the aging metal damaged and threatening to collapse. The planet’s surface outside the outpost isn’t inhospitable. The air is breathable, but the nights are bitterly cold. If the power goes out, could you scavenge enough material to stay warm? You care about that so much less than the eerie quiet. Trickling, spark-popping, shrill electronic beeping, but never voices. Never footsteps. Never anyone but you. 

You are sore and exhausted from hunching over the cogitator, you are starving and running low on emergency naval rations, but more than anything, you are alone. You scratch at your neck with a whimper. 

The cogitator’s speakers hiss with static and the words you’ve waited so long to hear finally arrive. “Urania One-Five-Oh, a ground team is now being assembled. Provide outpost coordinates and prepare for immediate evac. Do not handle the STC blueprint, please, or the tech priests might shoot you on sight. One of my men will provide you with a secure transport safe.” 

“Throne bless you,” you say hoarsely. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. B—be advised, Righteous Edict, there’s a debris field in our orbit.” 

“We see it.” 

You give them the coordinates and then you switch off the cogitator’s microphone so they don’t hear your weeping. Soon. You’ll be out of here soon. Just a little longer. You watch one of the dots on the scanner break from formation and start blinking closer, traces of a shaky, hopeful smile on your lips. 

There’s not much for you to do now but wait. You have nothing to take with you, no precious belongings to pack. You shut off several extraneous functions, rerouting power from other parts of the outpost to brighten the exterior lights so they can find you more easily. The skin of your neck is getting irritated under the cloth from how much you’re rubbing and scratching and picking, but you can’t help it. You just want this to be over. 

The wreckage of dozens of ships circles the Urania outpost’s planetoid in a twinkling river. You can’t see it with the naked eye until a piece nudges loose and plummets through the atmosphere, a streak of green fire across the sky. The arrival of the patrol fleet’s landing shuttle disturbs several chunks of shrapnel that turn into falling stars somewhere over the horizon. You wait at the foot of the outpost’s front step, shivering and rubbing your arms. Midday isn’t as frigid as night, but you can still see your breath in the air. The shuttle makes a quick, bumpy descent to the rocky surface, sliding to a stop on a metal landing platform bearing the ashy stains of artillery blasts. 

The commissar came in person. He’s the last one off the shuttle, preceded by an armed group of naval soldiers. He descends the boarding ramp with a cautious, scowling glance at his surroundings, a sword at his hip and a bolt pistol in his hand. You glance at the sky again, expectant. 

“What happened here?” the commissar asks you. He and his men approach with far more hostility in their body language than you’d expect for rescuers. 

You shake your head. “I don’t know what they were. They had us badly outnumbered. Disabled our defenses somehow and then swooped in like vultures. I think they took prisoners.” 

“But not you?” 

“No. We were trying to get the shields and anti-air artillery back online, so we were in the control center. They never came inside. I’m not sure why. But we’re stranded and things have deteriorated badly since.” 

The commissar narrows his eyes. “How many survivors?” 

“Less than ten of us,” you say. “Maintenance personnel, mostly.” 

“Hm.” He looks suspicious. That’s fine. It doesn’t matter. You’re almost out of here. You’re so close. The commissar studies your face and work uniform, the blood and grit caked to your hands and stuck beneath your nails, and then he nods. “We need the STC secured,” he tells you. 

“Right, of course,” you say quickly. You look past them, towards the horizon, your pulse picking up. It’s fine, isn’t it? Everything’s going to be fine. “Uh. This way.” 

You hoped you’d never have to step foot inside the outpost again. An alarm blares somewhere, a rhythmic, monotonous droning that echoes far away. Smashed cogitator screens hang crooked on the walls, showing fizzling gray lines. Blood spatters the walls of corridors, long dry, but there are no bodies. Every passing moment makes your fear sharpen. This isn’t right. You should be leaving by now. You were good. You did everything you were supposed to. Tears burn your eyes and your throat constricts. 

You get as far as the mess hall, all overturned chairs and shattered tile, when your legs give out. You can’t go any further and you’re inconsolable, curled up beside a broken table with your head in your hands. One of the soldiers kneels at your side, checking for head wounds. The commissar voxes the Righteous Edict asking for a second shuttle and a medic. He frowns tightly, then repeats his request. The sight of his rigid posture and wary glance back at you over his shoulder makes your sobs turn to sniffles, hope blooming in your chest. 

It’s going to be okay, you realize. You never should’ve doubted him.

The commissar orders the soldier beside you to move away. He clutches his bolt pistol and starts to say something. “What…?” You can only guess what he meant. What’s going on? What really happened here? What have you done? It doesn’t matter.

The shriek of a shard weapon firing sounds like a thousand windows shattering. The commissar stumbles back with wide eyes and blood trickling from his open mouth, glittering crystal shrapnel piercing his chest. Luminescent green liquid trickles from each sliver and into his wounds, hissing on contact. The shot is incredibly precise. You hear the clustered ammunition whisper just above your head. You don’t run for cover. You stay where you are and hold perfectly still as the room erupts in a cacophony of blaster fire, streaks of sizzling void punching through armor and unraveling flesh in bubbling bursts because that’s what you’re supposed to do. Sit. And wait. And trust him, like always. 

And you do. You trust him more than anyone. Bodies fall all around you, skin pincushioned, wounds crystal-studded, limbs and throats and clutched, heaving chests weeping red, and you don’t move. You sit there in the middle of all of it, darklight shrieking so close to your cheek that you feel the kiss of the void sizzle on your skin, blood spatters painting your clothes. Not a single shot missed. Not a single blast lodges in the wall or clips a table and not a single stray poison-filled shard lodges in your back. The commissar and his men writhe on the floor in quivering agony. Most of them will live and wish they hadn’t. 

And then you hear it. You hear him. They’re all here, too, the lesser lords and ladies, but you can pick out his slow, confident saunter through the chaos, the click of his boots across the floor. The pain in your heart fades and the fear melts away, everything swirling into peaceful bliss.

“There’s my darling songbird,” Xeranthross coos, looking down at your quivering form. He’s a perfect being, as beautiful as he is dangerous. Every movement is graceful and every word is a low, seductive purr. Eyes like rubies and smile like the curve of a knife, his hair is jet black and uneven, longer one one side than the other. You aren’t ashamed to throw yourself at his feet, letting the barbs and spikes jutting from his armor scrape your skin as you tremble with soft sobs of relief. “Oh, you poor thing! Why the tears?” 

You try to answer but all that comes out is wretched, warbling nonsense. It makes him chuckle. He bends slightly from his towering height, resting the pointed claws of his gloves on your head.

“You didn’t doubt me, did you?” he asks, his voice lowering to something menacing. 

“No!” You make yourself speak, forcing the words out as quickly as you can no matter how incomprehensible they might be through your weeping. “No, no, no, I didn’t, I swear, I didn’t, I never doubted you! Never!” You knew he would come. You knew, deep down, no matter how many days dragged into nights. “I didn’t,” you mewl, rubbing your face against the side of his boot. Your cheek catches on his armor’s spikes and you feel blood beading to the surface, a warm trickle down your chin. You don’t mind. Any pain he gives you is a gift. 

“Hush,” he says. You try. You cover your mouth to stifle your own miserable sounds. “Who do you trust, my dear? More than anyone?” 

“You,” you say. You don’t even have to think about it. 

“And who do you obey, before all others?” 

“You. Only you.” You shudder when his claw grazes your throat, pinching the fabric of your uniform between his fingers. He peels the turtleneck down, exposing a dark ring of metal. It’s a simple but elegant thing, a thick band of black that reflects deep blues and greens when the light dances across it. Made of the same lightweight, skin-tight material that forms Xeranthross’ armor, the band is engraved with the complex scrawl of runes you can’t read. He’s told you they signify ownership. Should you be found by others of his kind, they will know who you belong to.

Xeranthross traces the symbols on the collar with the sharp tip of one finger, his eyes half-lidded and his smile satisfied. He cups your chin and you look up at him, just as you’ve been taught. “And who do you sing for?” he asks. 

“You,” you whisper. “Always you.” 

“Mm. Very good. Now on your feet.”

You rush to obey, standing so quickly you feel lightheaded and sway on your feet. Xeranthross doesn’t tell you where to go. He shoves you back and you stumble, a cracked countertop digging into your back. You’re lifted on top of it effortlessly, your legs left to dangle. Xeranthross slots himself between your open legs and his glove cups the space between your thighs. Before, you would’ve tried to stop yourself from making noise. You would’ve bitten your lip until it bled. Now, you know better. You let him hear every sharp breath and whimper. The stiff, leathery material covering his palm presses hard against your sex and you shamelessly grind against it. 

“There’s my good little songbird,” he says, the praise sending blood rushing between your legs. His touch is rough and fast and not enough, muffled and not enough through your clothing, but you don’t dare ask for more. He’ll give you what you deserve. You push your hips against his hand and moan for him, secretly hoping you can earn something more. “What a needy little thing. Did you miss me?” 

“So much,” you say shakily. Your breathing is quick and frantic. Xeranthross drinks in the sight of your eager, arching body, your parted lips and bucking hips, but most of all, he looks at your collar. He grinds his palm against you harder as he stares at it, rubbing so hard it starts to hurt. 

“Did you touch yourself?” he purrs.

You stiffen under him. You did. You did, and he didn’t tell you that you could. He didn’t forbid it, either, but you’re supposed to ask for permission. You know that. Xeranthross clicks his tongue in disapproval. His claws hook in the waistband of your uniform’s lower half, pulling it down so viciously that the fabric rips around his claws. He doesn’t take them off completely. He keeps it bunched just beneath your hips, keeping your legs trapped. The air in the room is cold and somehow he’s even colder. He teases you with the back of his hand, interlaced plates of metal leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“It’s alright,” he coos. “You can tell me. You trust me, don’t you? More than anyone?” 

You do. Of course you do. Xeranthross drags his fingertips down the heated flesh between your legs and you shudder. He could cut you easily if he’s not careful. He could do much, much worse if he wants. But you trust him, so you squirm and whimper but you don’t pull away. You lay on your back and you let his touch ghost up and down with slightly more pressure each time. 

“I did,” you say, quiet and ashamed. “I…I touched myself. Thinking about you.” 

Xeranthross smiles. “Thinking about me doing what?” 

About him taking you. Fucking you. Bending you over the cogitator and sinking his long, pierced cock into your body until he’s fully hilted. Thrusting hard and fast, leaving long, bloody marks down your sides and back with his claws. Taking you any way he wants, as many times as he wants, spilling inside of you and dripping down your thighs. Letting the other lords and ladies use you while he watches, stroking himself to the song of your pleasure and pain. And when the prey comes bumbling in, he guts them like animals and takes you again in the mess he makes. He smears red handprints over your skin and leaves you with scratches and bites. You tell him this and you know it pleases him because he gives you another dangerous stroke with just the tip of his claw. 

“Do you remember what you were like when I found you?” he asks. 

You nod, slight and ashamed. You do. You weren’t much different than the commissar and the others. Not much different than all the repair crews and treasure seekers and pirates and evangelists who came here before them, the remnants of their last foolish venture now circling silently in orbit. But you were special. That’s why he picked you. You were the quietest. You hid the best. Lived longest, day in and day out scurrying through the outpost’s darkness, until you had no strength left. Xeranthross plucked you from the storage closet you’d stuffed yourself inside. He dragged you out by the ankle with a sharp grin and told you he’d grown tired of all the silence and monotony. He wondered if he could make you loud.

“How far you’ve come since then! What a wonderful little songbird you became.” He pulls away suddenly. It’s a struggle not to whine at the loss of his touch. “Get up,” he says. You do, embarrassed by the mess he made of your clothing. The others are smirking at you. Staring intently, with heat in their gazes. “Leave those rags behind. I’ve had something new made for you. Something much more fitting for my darling bird.”

Xeranthross smiles and all the shame of your shame is forgotten. There’s nothing wrong with this. Not if it pleases him. He wraps an arm around you, his claws dragging down your shoulder. It hurts, and it throbs, and it oozes. It makes him look at you like meat. He pulls you closer and you don’t fight, no matter how many times his armor’s spikes gouge your skin.

“I think you’re ready for a much prettier cage,” he says, and you shiver with delight.

[tuney-dreemur]

Underappreciated Indie Animations pt. 1

Ongoing / Pilots

Ghost Friends - Studio Outlet

No Evil - Betsy Lee

Swift Spark and the Defense Five - Pan_tastique

Critora: Abnormal - Daydreaming Birdie

Mugshout & Pollen: Living Elsewhere - Soleididdle

Snickerdoodle - Maze animations

Quarts Quest - Al Pal Art

Atlas and the Stars - Mirandamations

Port by the Sea - Georden Whitman

In Production

Mothtopia - Karma Animated

Hearts of Titan - Kappapon Studios

Elementus - Michael H 

My Friend Fabien! - Lonely Bros Animation

Dungeon Flippers - Travis Fowler

Sunnyside: Royals of Cora - Sunnyside: Royals of Cora

Heathens - Studio Psycho

Mandelbrot Hall - Studio Flimpo

Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy - Starteas

Camp Cryptid - Celeste McGee

Fighting All Odds - Robert Preston

Sinking Road - Pound Tound Hound 

The Evil Little Thing - Pink Boa Productions

Polliwog - Chimera Bunny

[beardedmrbean]

At 19, he was the oldest of the group of teens accused of hurling Molotov cocktails at the police station of their suburban hometown.

“Why?” the judge asked Riad, who was taken into custody after he was identified in video surveillance images of the group from June 29, the second night of nationwide unrest following the police shooting of another suburban teenager outside Paris.

“For justice for Nahel," Riad said. Slumped and slightly disheveled after five nights in jail, he said he didn't know about the peaceful march organized by Nahel Merzouk's family. He explained that the cellphone photo of him holding a Molotov cocktail was “for social media. To give an image.”

In all, more than 3,600 people, with an average age of 17, have been detained in the unrest across France since the June 27 death of Nahel, who was also 17, according to the Interior Ministry. The violence, which left more than 800 law enforcement officers injured, has largely subsided in recent days.

French courts are working overtime to process the arrests, including opening their doors through the weekend, with fast-track hearings around an hour long and same-day sentencing.

The prosecutor noted that Riad had learned where to acquire incendiary devices on Snapchat, the social network that the French government has singled out, along with TikTok, as fueling the unrest. Riad's lawyer noted that his record was clean and that the young man was not blamed for any significant damage or injuries.

By the end of Tuesday, Riad's sentence was fixed: three years in prison, with a minimum of 18 months behind bars, and a ban from his hometown of Alfortville for the duration of the term.

He collapsed on the stand. “I'm not ready to go to prison. I'm really not ready,” he said, blowing a furtive kiss to his mother as he was led away.

Outside the packed courtroom, a pair of girls asked someone exiting what sentence he'd received. “Three years? That's insane!” one exclaimed.

But the mood in France is stern after unrest that officials estimate caused more than $1 billion in damage. Nahel's fatal shooting by police came during a traffic stop, was captured on video and immediately stirred up long-simmering tensions between police and young people — nearly all ethnic minorities and overwhelmingly French-born — in housing projects and disadvantaged suburbs.

Justice Minister Eric Dupond-Moretti issued an order Friday that demanded a “ strong, firm and systematic” judicial response. Hearings began the following day, as unrest continued into the night.

“This is not hasty justice. The message I want to send is that justice is functioning normally in the face of an exceptional situation," said Peimane Ghaleh-Marzban, the president of the tribunal in Bobigny.

By Tuesday night, a total of 990 people had gone before a tribunal, and about one-third received jail terms, according to government spokesman Olivier Veran. A third of those detained were minors, he said.

“You have many first-time offenders — people who are not deep in delinquency, many minors in school who don’t [engage in] habitual criminal activity,” Ghaleh-Marzban said.

Despite that, the inclination to convict with jail time appeared to prevail.

In Lyon, France's second-most populous metropolitan area, the prosecutor said Thursday that of 26 adults who have appeared before the fast-track courts so far, 22 were convicted and sentenced to jail, three requested more time to prepare a defense and only one was acquitted. According to BFM television Thursday, 76% of people in the fast-track trials were placed in detention.

The United Nations' human rights office said the unrest showed that it was time for France to reckon with its history of racism in policing, rather than just lash out in punishment. The office said the French government needed to ensure that use of force “always respects the principles of legality, necessity, proportionality, non-discrimination, precaution and accountability.”

But many French lawmakers are demanding maximum punishment — and fast.

Olivier Marleix, a lawmaker from the conservative Republicans party, called for all the cases involving the unrest to be handled within 100 days.

“Not to punish this would be an injury to all our law enforcement. Not to punish this would be a failure to understand the gravity of the threat to France," he said Tuesday in the National Assembly.

By contrast, the officer accused in Nahel's death has been charged with voluntary homicide but has yet to appear in a courtroom or even have a court date set.

Rayan, an 18-year-old detained with a group of about 30 young people, was accused of filming a 14-second video of incendiaries being hurled at his local police station in Kremlin-Bicetre. In the video, he cries out: “Light them up!”

It was the first time he has ever been arrested. He was taken to Fleury-Merogis prison, the European Union’s largest, and wept on the stand Tuesday. Prosecutors, who accused him of tripping a police officer while fleeing, asked for a 30-month sentence and for him to be barred from his hometown.

“I’m a good person. I’ve never had a problem with police. I have a family, I work,” he said, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

His brief hearing ended with a 10-month suspended sentence. His parents picked him up the same night from prison to take him home.

[historyhermann]

Runners-up to my list of top 10 animated TV series of 2023

There are five series which are runners-up to this top-ten list. This includes My Dad the Bounty Hunter, with a collective score of 4.65 for seasons one and two, on Netflix, Unicorn: Warriors Eternal in Max, Star Wars: The Bad Batch on Disney+, Star Trek: Lower Decks on Paramount+, and Futurama on Hulu. While I also reviewed Kiff (on Disney+) and Velma (on Max), both were mediocre series in my opinion. On the other hand, I watched rad series like Scott Pilgrim Takes Off!, Hailey's On It!, and Scavengers Reign, which I enjoyed, and would recommend.

This contrasted with Gods' School, an ongoing indie animated series. There are few currently airing indie animations, other than Helluva Boss, Godspeed (created by Olan Rogers of Final Space) pilot, Zeurel's Monkey Wrench, EddsWorld, Bob's World, Nora and Zin, and Swift Spark and the Defense Five. Some indie animations are in development, such as Far-Fetched, Lackadaisy, Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy, Defenders of Alodia, Mugshot & Pollen, and The West Patch. Others include Captain Zero, LimeLight, Sunnyside: Royals of Cora, Battle of the Bands, Wild Card, and Fighting All Odds. Although a "boom" or "renaissance" is debatable, more series are being produced today.

2024 will see Hailey's On It! season one conclude, premiere of indie-ish Hazbin Hotel, and two Cartoon Network series: Invincible Fight Girl and Iyanu: Child of Wonder. The Ghost and Molly McGee season 2 will end. Velma season 2 will be released. Star Wars: The Bad Batch will end, as will Invincible season two. Primos will air, as will Stugo, X-Man 97, Creature Commandos, and Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft. Possibly, Arcane season 2 will premiere, as will Ark: The Animated Series, Asterix, and Iwájú. 2024 portends to be a good year for animation no matter what, even if The Animation Guild strikes.

excerpted from "Burkely's Top Ten Animated TV Shows of 2023"

© 2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

[sunnyapollonjabrigidotter]

Aligning Apollo's motives and attributes with the Minor Arcana can enrich our understanding of both Apollo and the Tarot. Here's how Apollo’s themes could be reflected in each suit and their respective cards:

Wands (Fire, Inspiration, Action)

Apollo, as a god of light, prophecy, and the arts, aligns closely with the suit of Wands, which represents creativity, inspiration, and action.

1. **Ace of Wands** - **Apollo’s Divine Spark**

- Represents the initial burst of creative energy and inspiration. Apollo’s divine birth and his role as a bringer of light symbolize the spark of new ideas and creativity.

2. **Two of Wands** - **Apollo’s Vision and Planning**

- Reflects foresight and strategic planning. Apollo’s establishment of the oracle at Delphi represents his visionary leadership and the careful planning of his role as a prophet.

3. **Three of Wands** - **Apollo’s Journey and Expansion**

- This card signifies the success of early plans and the expansion of horizons. Apollo’s travels and the spread of his influence as a deity of prophecy align with this card's themes of growth and exploration.

4. **Four of Wands** - **Apollo’s Celebrations**

- Represents harmony and celebration. Apollo’s festivals, such as the Pythian Games, which celebrated his victory and artistic achievements, mirror the joy and success depicted in this card.

5. **Five of Wands** - **Apollo’s Challenges and Competitions**

- Reflects conflict and competition. Apollo’s mythological contests, such as his musical competition with Marsyas, reflect the struggle and competition associated with this card.

6. **Six of Wands** - **Apollo’s Triumph**

- Symbolizes victory and recognition. Apollo’s victories over various adversaries and his role as a triumphant deity in many myths align with this card’s themes of public recognition and success.

7. **Seven of Wands** - **Apollo’s Defense**

- Represents standing firm and defending one’s position. Apollo’s defense of his oracle and his role in upholding divine justice reflect the resilience and determination seen in this card.

8. **Eight of Wands** - **Apollo’s Swift Action**

- This card signifies swift movement and progress. Apollo’s rapid action in many myths, such as his quick response to crises or his swift journey across the sky, aligns with the card’s themes of speed and urgency.

9. **Nine of Wands** - **Apollo’s Endurance**

- Represents perseverance and resilience. Apollo’s enduring presence and his ability to overcome various trials, such as his confrontation with the Python, reflect this card’s themes of endurance and strength.

10. **Ten of Wands** - **Apollo’s Burden**

- Symbolizes carrying a heavy load or responsibility. Apollo’s role in maintaining cosmic order and his responsibilities as a deity, including his work with the oracle, illustrate the card’s themes of burdens and responsibilities.

11. **Page of Wands** - **Apollo’s Youthful Inspiration**

- Represents enthusiasm and a new creative spark. The youthful Apollo, with his role in inspiring new ideas and artistic endeavors, reflects the Page’s energy and potential.

12. **Knight of Wands** - **Apollo’s Dynamic Energy**

- This card signifies action and adventure. Apollo’s dynamic actions, such as his quest for the Delphi oracle, align with the Knight’s impulsive and adventurous spirit.

13. **Queen of Wands** - **Apollo’s Artistic Vision**

- Represents creativity and confidence. The Queen of Wands’ confidence and creativity reflect Apollo’s role as the god of the arts and his nurturing of artistic talents.

14. **King of Wands** - **Apollo’s Leadership and Mastery**

- Symbolizes authority and vision. Apollo’s leadership in guiding the muses and his mastery over prophecy and the arts align with the King’s themes of leadership and creative vision.

Cups (Water, Emotions, Relationships)

Apollo’s connections with the arts and prophecy can also relate to the emotional and relational aspects of the suit of Cups.

1. **Ace of Cups** - **Apollo’s Divine Love**

- Represents the beginning of emotional and spiritual fulfillment. Apollo’s deep love and connection with his followers and his divine gifts reflect the card’s themes of new emotional beginnings.

2. **Two of Cups** - **Apollo and Daphne**

- Symbolizes partnership and attraction. Apollo’s complex relationship with Daphne, full of longing and transformation, mirrors the themes of this card, which often represents partnership and mutual attraction.

3. **Three of Cups** - **Apollo’s Festivals and Gatherings**

- Represents celebration and community. Apollo’s festivals and the communal celebrations of his worshippers reflect the joy and camaraderie depicted in this card.

4. **Four of Cups** - **Apollo’s Contemplation**

- Reflects introspection and dissatisfaction. Apollo’s moments of introspection, such as when he reflects on his unrequited loves or unfulfilled desires, align with this card’s themes of contemplation and introspection.

5. **Five of Cups** - **Apollo’s Grief**

- Symbolizes loss and mourning. The story of Apollo grieving the death of Hyacinthus represents the card’s themes of loss and the process of dealing with grief.

6. **Six of Cups** - **Apollo’s Nostalgia**

- Represents memories and nostalgia. Apollo’s fondness for his past loves and childhood memories reflects the card’s themes of looking back and cherishing past experiences.

7. **Seven of Cups** - **Apollo’s Choices and Illusions**

- Reflects options and illusions. Apollo’s encounters with various choices and temptations, such as the allure of different lovers and divine challenges, mirror the card’s themes of choices and dreams.

8. **Eight of Cups** - **Apollo’s Departure**

- Represents leaving behind what no longer serves. Apollo’s departure from his old haunts to pursue new challenges or divine quests reflects the card’s themes of moving on and seeking higher purpose.

9. **Nine of Cups** - **Apollo’s Fulfillment**

- Symbolizes contentment and emotional fulfillment. Apollo’s successful achievements and the joy he finds in his creative and prophetic roles reflect the card’s themes of satisfaction and contentment.

10. **Ten of Cups** - **Apollo’s Harmony and Joy**

- Represents emotional harmony and family. The harmonious and joyful aspects of Apollo’s divine realm and his role in fostering peace and prosperity reflect the card’s themes of emotional fulfillment and family.

11. **Page of Cups** - **Apollo’s Artistic Inspiration**

- Represents new emotional experiences and creativity. The Page of Cups embodies the youthful and imaginative aspects of Apollo’s artistic inspiration and his role as a muse.

12. **Knight of Cups** - **Apollo’s Romantic Pursuits**

- Symbolizes romance and idealism. Apollo’s passionate pursuits and his role as a lover reflect the Knight’s themes of romance and emotional quests.

13. **Queen of Cups** - **Apollo’s Nurturing Aspect**

- Represents compassion and intuition. The Queen’s nurturing qualities reflect Apollo’s role in healing and his empathetic connection with humanity.

14. **King of Cups** - **Apollo’s Emotional Mastery**

- Symbolizes emotional control and wisdom. Apollo’s ability to master his emotions and provide guidance through his prophetic wisdom aligns with the King’s themes of emotional stability and maturity.

Swords (Air, Intellect, Conflict)

Apollo’s aspects related to prophecy, intellect, and conflict can be mirrored in the suit of Swords, which represents mental processes and challenges.

1. **Ace of Swords** - **Apollo’s Clarity and Truth**

- Represents a new understanding or clarity. Apollo’s role as a bringer of truth and clarity through prophecy reflects the card’s themes of new insights and mental clarity.

2. **Two of Swords** - **Apollo’s Dilemmas**

- Symbolizes decision-making and conflict. Apollo’s conflicts, such as those involving divine judgments or moral choices, align with the card’s themes of balancing conflicting ideas.

3. **Three of Swords** - **Apollo’s Heartbreak**

- Represents emotional pain and heartbreak. The story of Apollo’s suffering from unrequited love or loss, such as the death of Hyacinthus, mirrors the card’s themes of sorrow and emotional struggle.

4. **Four of Swords** - **Apollo’s Rest and Recovery**

- Reflects rest and recuperation. Apollo’s periods of retreat and reflection, such as his times of solitude to recover from trials, align with the card’s themes of rest and healing.

5. **Five of Swords** - **Apollo’s Conflict and Strife**

- Represents conflict and discord. Apollo’s mythological battles and confrontations, such as his clash with the Python or Marsyas, reflect the card’s themes of conflict and resolution.

6. **Six of Swords** - **Apollo’s Transition**

- Symbolizes moving away from difficulty and transition. Apollo’s journeys and transitions, including his relocation of the oracle or his travels, align with the card’s themes of moving on and seeking peace.

7. **Seven of Swords** - **Apollo’s Cunning and Strategy**

- Represents strategy and sometimes deception. Apollo’s strategic actions in mythological tales, including clever maneuvers and decisions, reflect the card’s themes of strategy and resourcefulness.

8. **Eight of Swords** - **Apollo’s Constraints**

- Symbolizes feeling trapped or restricted. Apollo’s moments of feeling constrained or challenged, such as his punishment and temporary loss of power, align with the card’s themes of restriction and self-imposed limits.

9. **Nine of Swords** - **Apollo’s Worry**

- Represents anxiety and mental anguish. Apollo’s moments of deep concern or distress, such as his fear of failing his divine duties, reflect the card’s themes of worry and mental anguish.

10. **Ten of Swords** - **Apollo’s Betrayal and Endings**

- Symbolizes ruin and betrayal. This card reflects the end of a cycle, often through betrayal or hardship. Apollo’s myths involving betrayal or significant losses, such as the harsh consequences of his actions or conflicts, can align with this card’s themes of dramatic endings and deep challenges.

11. **Page of Swords** - **Apollo’s Curiosity and Learning**

- Represents curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. The Page of Swords reflects a youthful eagerness to learn and understand, similar to Apollo’s quest for knowledge and truth as a god of prophecy and wisdom.

12. **Knight of Swords** - **Apollo’s Determination and Action**

- Symbolizes swift action and determination. The Knight of Swords aligns with Apollo’s decisive actions and strong will in his quest for justice and truth, as well as his sometimes aggressive approach to achieving his goals.

13. **Queen of Swords** - **Apollo’s Clarity and Intellect**

- Represents clear thinking and intellectual strength. The Queen of Swords reflects Apollo’s role as a wise and discerning deity, using his intellect and clarity to provide guidance and maintain order.

14. **King of Swords** - **Apollo’s Authority and Justice**

- Symbolizes intellectual authority and fair judgment. The King of Swords aligns with Apollo’s role as a deity who upholds divine law and order, using his wisdom and authority to guide and adjudicate.

Pentacles (Earth, Material, Practical)

Apollo’s connection with the material aspects of life, such as his influence over agriculture and prosperity, can be reflected in the suit of Pentacles.

1. **Ace of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s New Beginnings in Prosperity**

- Represents new opportunities and material success. Apollo’s gifts of abundance, such as his influence over agriculture and prosperity, align with the card’s themes of new material opportunities and potential.

2. **Two of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Balance and Adaptability**

- Symbolizes balance and juggling multiple responsibilities. Apollo’s ability to manage his many roles and responsibilities, such as balancing his roles as a deity of prophecy and the arts, reflects this card’s themes of adaptability and balance.

3. **Three of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Collaboration and Mastery**

- Represents teamwork and skill development. Apollo’s collaboration with the Muses and his role in guiding artistic and architectural endeavors reflect this card’s themes of skilled collaboration and mastery.

4. **Four of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Security and Control**

- Symbolizes holding on to resources and security. Apollo’s role in maintaining divine order and his influence over material stability reflect the card’s themes of security and control.

5. **Five of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Trials and Hardship**

- Represents material or emotional struggle. While Apollo is generally seen as a deity of abundance, moments of hardship or loss, such as the loss of his beloved Hyacinthus or periods of divine punishment, align with this card’s themes of struggle and hardship.

6. **Six of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Generosity and Balance**

- Symbolizes giving and receiving. Apollo’s acts of generosity and his role in ensuring balance and fairness, such as his support for his worshippers and the distribution of divine gifts, reflect this card’s themes of generosity and equitable exchange.

7. **Seven of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Patience and Growth**

- Represents patience and long-term efforts. Apollo’s role in nurturing and guiding growth, whether in agriculture or the arts, reflects the card’s themes of patience and the rewards of sustained effort.

8. **Eight of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Dedication to Craft**

- Symbolizes skill development and diligence. Apollo’s dedication to perfecting his prophetic and artistic abilities aligns with this card’s themes of craftsmanship and dedication.

9. **Nine of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Success and Fulfillment**

- Represents material success and self-sufficiency. Apollo’s achievements and his role in bringing prosperity and fulfillment to his followers reflect the card’s themes of success and abundance.

10. **Ten of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Legacy and Stability**

- Symbolizes long-term success and legacy. Apollo’s lasting influence and the stability he brings to his domain, as well as his role in ensuring the prosperity of his followers, align with this card’s themes of legacy and long-term stability.

11. **Page of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s New Endeavors**

- Represents ambition and a focus on practical matters. The Page of Pentacles reflects Apollo’s early efforts and learning in his role as a god, including his engagement with the material world and his quest for knowledge.

12. **Knight of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Reliability and Hard Work**

- Symbolizes diligence and responsibility. The Knight of Pentacles aligns with Apollo’s steady, reliable efforts in his divine duties, including his commitment to guiding and nurturing his followers.

13. **Queen of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Nurturing Aspect**

- Represents practicality and nurturing. Apollo’s role in ensuring the well-being and prosperity of his followers, and his connection to agricultural fertility, reflect the card’s themes of nurturing and practical support.

14. **King of Pentacles** - **Apollo’s Mastery and Authority**

- Symbolizes material success and authoritative control. The King of Pentacles aligns with Apollo’s mastery over the domains of prophecy and prosperity, reflecting his authority and control in these areas.

[thebaddestofbatches]

The Bad Batch Preferences pt. 1

Kissing

------------

Crosshair

Favorite Place: Just behind your ear and along your jaw. He prefers to wrap his arms around you from behind and these places are easier to reach. Plus they’re more sensitive and he likes to watch you squirm.

Makeouts: Definitely. And frequently. Whenever he gets back from a mission, you do something he finds hot, or just because he hasn’t kissed you in awhile.

First Kiss:

It was hot on Techitua. Dusty too. You lowered your shades on your nose, a polarized version of Tech’s goggles as Crosshair opened a case on the ground.

A makeshift shooting range was set up parallel to the Marauder, a metal piece with a target spray painted on it placed at a distance of 25 meters.

Hunter had told you that if you wanted to stay on board, you needed to know how to defend yourself and assigned you to Crosshair, without even asking if you had any prior experience.

“Alright. I don’t expect you to be top notch with this thing.” Crosshair said, his tone borderline patronizing as he removed a small blaster from the case. “Blasters take a lot of practice to use correctly and you’re only a doctor. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t hit anything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and took the blaster from his hand. Barely looking at the target, you took aim and fired one, two, three, four, five shots.

Crosshair’s slack jaw and a quick glance told you they all hit the bullseye.

“You forget, soldier,” You said smugly. “I’m an army doctor. I can rip you apart and put you back together just as easily.”

Crosshair’s toothpick hit the dirt and then he was on you, smashing his lips to your hungrily.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Echo

Favorite place: Your hand. He likes to hold your hand and bring it up to his lips for absentminded kisses. When you cup his face, he turns his head and presses kisses to your palm.

Makeouts: Not too often. He’s shy after all his modifications and you definitely have to initiate them, but once he relaxes, then he’s into it.

First Kiss:

“Dang ferreck!” You swore as the control panel of the rescued radio shocked you for the fifth time that night.

You gave it a swift thump on the top in retaliation, gritting your teeth.

You needed this to work. It had to work. It’d been so long since you heard real music.

Another try at the wiring and another spark that singed your fingertips. You let out another string of curses and tossed your screwdriver onto the counter with a clank before thumping your forehead against the table repeatedly.

There was a gentle touch on your back that stopped your assault on your cranium. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel the poke of Echo’s prosthetic through your tunic.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No,” You grumbled into the metal.

Echo sighed quietly and after some shifting behind you, you raised your head to see his human hand disconnect two crossed wires and reconnect them at new points. There was a fizz of static and then a gentle song began to float through the speakers.

You let out a whoop of joy and leaped to your feet, grabbing the clone by his collar to pull him down for a quick kiss.

“Thank you!” You squealed, snatching up your screwdriver again and leaving Echo standing there, stunned and pink.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Hunter

Favorite place: Your neck. He likes to feel your pulse point and kiss the sunmarks and spots along your skin. It’s also one of the best places for him to get your scent.

Makeouts: Not as often as Crosshair, but frequent. He likes to be affectionate with you and when he gets time or feels stressed, being around you and close to you is his priority.

First Kiss:

You’d been separated from the Batch in a marketplace and were now wandering aimlessly.

As you passed an alleyway you heard a whistle and a man sidled up to you.

“Hey gorgeous,” He said. “Where you going?”

“Away from you,” You muttered, but he heard it anyway and snorted. “Feisty girl.”

A gag rose up in your throat and you increased your pace. Behind you the man called. “Hey I’m talking to you! Though I appreciate the view!”

A hand landed on your butt and you whirled, fist raised to deck the stranger for daring to touch you. Before you could though, someone stepped between you and punched him, hard.

You looked up to see Hunter, a deep scowl on his tattooed face as he glowered at your harasser.

“Don’t touch her,” He growled, drawing up to his full height.

The man spat and launched himself at Hunter, sending them both rolling to the ground.

There was some yelling and sounds of fists hitting bodies before Hunter scrambled to his feet breathing hard as your harasser lay on the ground, groaning.

Hunter turned to you with worried eyes and you punched him in the arm hard and then quickly pecked his lips. “You didn’t have to make a scene.”

“Sorry,” He said, not sounding sorry at all as he pulled you in for another kiss.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Tech

Favorite place: Your forehead and temples. He can get so busy with this or that and a quick peck to the forehead is his go-to for affection when he’s caught up in something.

Makeouts: Usually whenever he gets an idea he wants to try with you. He learned affection mainly from books so he’s picking up more and more as he goes. Usually you initiate the sessions. However, when he gains confidence later in the relationship, things get more serious as he experiments.

First Kiss:

“Tech?” You called from the porch of your hideout. Hunter had sent you to fetch the male for dinner and so far he was nowhere to be found.

“In here!” The clone called and you followed the sound into the shed to see Tech holding two vials above a pot.

“What’re you doing?” You asked leaning on the doorframe.

“I’m testing a theory. The substance excreted from the fire salamanders’ skin may have some properties that can boost our explosives.” He replied, carefully tipping the vial of white powder in, followed by the orange liquid.

“And you thought it was a good idea to test that in my shed?” You said, quirking a brow.

The technician had the decency to look a little abashed. “Well it isn’t in the house.”

He set the tubes aside and picked up a firestarter, holding it over the pot. “And a spark to trigger the reaction..”

Crack. Fwoomp! Boom!

The small windows shattered and you ducked as a blaze burst up from the pot and then died out just as quickly, sending up a cloud of ash and dust.

When the smoke receded, you heard Tech give a small cough and looked over to see his whole face covered in soot and the front of his normally gelled back hair spiked up.

You burst into giggles, picking up a small cloth from the worktable and approaching the clone to wipe his goggles clean.

He blinked at you from behind the lenses, like he was surprised to see you and you smiled. “That went well.”

Tech gave you a sheepish look. “I’m sorry about the windows. I’ll fix them tomorrow.”

You laughed again, waving him off. “It’s alright. I was prepared for damages when I brought you lot here.”

He gave you a grateful look and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself, darting forward and pecking his lips.

Tech immediately turned scarlet. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

And then you passed him the cloth with a wink. “Hunter says dinner’s ready. You should probably clean up a bit before you come inside.”

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Wrecker

Favorite place: Your cheeks and nose. He likes to pepper kisses all over your face. He’s so enraptured by you that he wants to keep you close at all times to make sure you’re real. Plus he’s a massive cuddlebug.

Makeouts: On occasion. But this boy is too much of a teddy bear for anything more than gentle loving touches. He’s slow and sweet and so very careful with you.

First Kiss:

The Batch was pinned down in an abandoned bunker as a gang faction gathered outside. Echo was doing his best to reboot the turrets while Tech worked on the doors, but unless it happened fast, you weren’t getting out of this unscathed.

You were peering out one of the broken windows with Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker picking off grunts where you could, but they had greater numbers and illegal firepower.

A shot from a bike mounted turret hit the wall above your lookout and the ceiling caved in, causing Wrecker tackle you, cradling you to him as he rolled away.

“You alright?” He asked, pushing off of you, his voice higher than normal.

“Yeah.” You said and Hunter swore as glass shattered behind you.

“Echo!! What’s the status on those defense systems?!”

“Same as you asked thirty seconds ago!” Echo snapped. “These circuits are rubbish! This place should have been scrapped for parts years ago!”

Parts.

A light bulb went off in your brain and you immediately turned to Wrecker. “Give me a charge!”

“Why?!”

“Trust me!”

He gave you a look you couldn’t read under the helmet, but dropped an explosive in your palm.

Immediately you started dismantling it. “I need a gravmag, some wires, and anything explosive we can spare. Oh and Echo’s arm.”

“What?” Said Echo.

You ignored him and started your hunt for parts as you snatched a screwdriver, a multipurpose laser tool, and pliers from Tech’s backpack, stripped a console, broke Crosshair’s gravmag off of his grappling hook, and took three more charges from Wrecker. You dismantled, screwed, and rewired before beckoning Echo over and having him weld it all together.

“(Y/N),” Wrecker asked as he fired off another shot. “What are you doing?”

You waved him off as you activated your new, shoddy weapon of mass destruction and bolted for the window, lobbing it as hard and far as you could.

“Hit the dirt!” You yelled and there was a large boom and the whole building rattled.

When the dust cleared, you beamed proudly at the clear landscape.

The gang that had been surrounding your hiding place was now lying unconscious having been thrown a good 50 meters in all directions at extreme speeds.

“What-“ Said Crosshair in his rare stunned tone. “What did you do?”

“Simply,” You said. “I reversed the polarity and made it into a big bang.”

Wrecker whooped and tossed his helmet aside, scooping you into a bear hug and peppering kisses all over your face. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You turned pink and he drew back from you enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips, which only served to fill your face with crimson.

There was an awkward cough from one of his brothers and Wrecker turned a similar shade of red, setting you back on the ground.

“Er-“ He said, patting your shoulder awkwardly. “Good job.”

[swiftspark]

Mr. Krabs paid us a visit this morning to tell James that he didn't get the job - our pitch didn't make it through the Nickelodeon Content Accelerator. :( But fret not! There's more pitching opportunities waiting, and production on the pilot is steadily underway. You'll get there, Sparky! We believe in you!!

[pan-tastique]

Made this quick teaser to let you know that the release date of the pilot will be announced this Christmas! Featuring a remastered version of our logo animation.

[gamerbearmira]

(I’m back because I’m now in love with this AU😭, sorry for it being so long again.)

New Bloods are a variant of normal Reds who have evolved alongside Silvers to have better and more efficient powers. For example: Silvers may have powers but they they have their limits, while New Bloods do no. Pepa can only control the weather somewhat, and is considered erratic including the storms she creates which can sometimes get out if control.

Now Mirabel, while she does not have complete control over the weather, she CAN create and control lightning without creating a storm to help her. She can create storms, create shields from lightning (not to be confused with her actual shield), small sparks that are pulses and even lighting that can shoot through a persons body. This is called Brain Lightning, what differs from that lighting is that it’s not visible and can be incredibly dangers as it takes a LOT of control, way too much for a ten year old.

Pedro was a New Blood, one of the most powerful, which is why the Madrigals are the bosses and ones in charge. There is no Miracle unfortunately, but Casita is still alive, Pedro had a trick or two up his sleeve. With Pedro, no one knew us ability, he kept it a strict secret, not even Alma knew what it was.

She does know what a New Blood is and that Pedro was one. What Alma meant by that last sentence was that when she was younger New Bloods were indeed rare, and were only born if one of the parents were a New Blood and Augustin just a normal Red, so she’s very confused about that, also she’s also consumed because New Bloods are only supposed to have ONE power, not FIVE!! That’s mainly why she’s confused, other than Pedro, there are no other New Bloods in the family. She’s looking into it because let she honest if s ten year old can create lighting and shields and god know what else while previously being known if the Normal Gift-less one, we’d want some answers too.

As for her powers, like I said, she’s got five. She can’t control all of them and needs extra practice especially with the Brain Lightning.

She has the powers of a:

Electricon: Control over Lightning

Gravitrons: power over GRAVITY, she can also use this to make herself fly.

Minder: Perfect Memory and recall, basically a photographic memory

Shield: Exactly as it sounds, using energy to create shields used for either attack or defense.

And finally a teleporter, or a jumper: Now these are considered a more enhanced versions of Swifts. They’re faster than Swifts, but it was later found out that instead of being fast they’re actually opening small holes and portals between two different points of a locations.

She is considered a miracle, being not only New Blood, but one with more than one power. Like I said, New Bloods have stronger and better powers than regular Silvers, this kind of forced her into the spotlight. Leading people to treat her either like a god or princess, and people who bullied her to try and get in good with her. The kingdom already loved her because of her sweet and bubbly nature, but this takes it to a whole new level.

As for pushing her aside, they didn’t mean too, it kind of just happened subconsciously. They still love her, and celebrate her birthdays and any of her achievements, they just don’t have much time. Her relationship with her sisters is a kind of the same with canon, Isa being forced to be perfect and being jealous of Mira and unfortunately taking her anger out of her sister in the form of outburst, which she does feel bad for. In turn, her relationship with Delores has FLOURISHED.

Homegirl giving everyone a run for they money huh 😭😭 Regardless. I can see how it was subconscious but still. Can’t take away the hurt. I’m throwing hands with Isa, idgaf. Stan Dolores <333 As for the abilities??? They’re so cool, totally radical man <3 Def would take her a hot minute to get control fo them, that’s one hindred percent understandable.

As for people treating her like a Princess. Why they switch up so quick 🤨 y’all wan’t doing all that before, what because she has powers, suddenly it doesn’t esn’t apply no mo 💀 Also Pedro. Hiding it is understandable. If he is as strong as you say he is, it could make him a lot of enemies, even if he was the nicest perso round the block :(

[yourwitchmama]

Tarot Meanings: The Wands Suit

Ace of Wands

Upright: New beginnings, good news, physically starting something, creative spark, new initiative, finding new passion, enthusiasm, urgency, accepting a challenge, potential, talent, growth, action, travel, excitement, getting in the game, getting fired up, spontaneity, fun, being bold/daring, fertility, birth, conception, new lease of life Reversed: Delays, disappointing news, stopping something, creative blocks, lack of initiative/ passion/ assertiveness/ energy/ enthusiasm/ motivation/ growth/ action/ spark/ fun, slow, hesitant, missed opportunities, wasted talent/potential, infertility, pregnancy issues, cancelled travel, being too intense, stuck, bored, predictable

Two of Wands

Upright: Two paths, decisions, options, planning, grass is always greener on the other side, emigration suddenly leaving, deciding to stay or go, waiting, anticipation, restlessness, detachment, withdrawal, wanderlust, lack of contentment, business partnerships, co-operation, expansion overseas, overseas travel Reversed: Fear of change, indecisiveness, restricted options, lack of planning, fear of the unknown, staying put, cancelled emigration, deciding not go, being held back, choosing the safest option, self-doubt, disappointment, anti-climax, cancelled or delayed travel, choosing a mundane life, sudden arrival or return

Three of Wands

Upright: Travel, moving abroad, foreign land, foresight, forward planning, moving forward, self-confidence, self-belief, freedom, success, happy with choices/outcome, hard work paying off, experiencing life, spreading your wings, adventure, long distance/ travel romance, fortune favours the brave, overseas trade/expansion, growth Reversed: Returning travels, moving home, lack of foresight/ planning, holding on to the past, haunted by the past, lack of confidence, self-doubt, restriction, failure, disappointed with choices/outcome, frustration, clipped wings, lack of progress/ adventure/growth, failed long distance relationship, failed overseas trade/expansion

Four of Wands

Upright: Happy families, reunion, coming home, celebrations, surprises, parties, weddings, events, feeling welcome, community or family coming together, community spirit, teamwork, success, prosperity, stability, security, laying down roots, pride, self-esteem, being proud of achievements Reversed: Unhappy families, postponed/ cancelled reunion, leaving home, cancelled celebrations/surprises/parties/ weddings/ events, feeling unwelcome, not fitting in, community divided, lack of community spirit, instability, insecurity, uprooting, self-doubt

Five of Wands

Upright: Conflict, fighting, arguments, rows, disagreements, struggle, opposition, battles, aggression, temper, clashing personalities/egos, strikes, chaos, unruliness, being defensive/ territorial, assertive, pent up energy/aggression,  lack of control/ cooperation, frustration, irritation, competition, adrenaline, sports, being rough, petty Reversed: Compromise, end of conflict/ row/ struggle, reaching agreements, peace, harmony, battle fatigue, fear of confrontation, shyness, intimidation, suppressed temper, finding solutions, cooperation, control, focus, order, lack of competition, war, looking for an argument, extreme aggression, short fuse

Six of Wands

Upright: Success, victory, winning, having the advantage, triumph, achievement, praise, acclaim, awards, recognition, applause, goodwill, fame, celebrity, fans, well-wishers, supporters, crowds, being in the spotlight, riding high, being a leader, stability, strength, confidence, self-esteem, pride, sharing your victories, campaign trail Reversed: Failure, lack of achievement/recognition/ support/ confidence/ endurance, losing, disadvantage, disgrace, being hunted, ill-will, mob/ pack mentality, treachery, disloyalty, disappointment, broken promises, being a follower, weakness, fame hungry, diva, arrogant, egotistical, pride before a fall, unsuccessful campaign

Seven of Wands

Upright: Standing up for beliefs, fighting your corner, protective, defensive, determined, challenging, opposing, stamina, holding your own, taking high road, maintaining control, territorial, assertive, forceful, relentless, strong will, under attack, blame, harassment, scapegoat, resisting, busy, hectic, demanding Reversed: Folding on your beliefs, giving in/up, admitting defeat, yielding, quitting, surrendering, weakness, being timid, lack of courage/ self-belief/ stamina, failing to defend/ protect, resolution, compromise, scandal/losing moral authority/ control/ power/respect, sharing territory,  being overbearing, worn down, burnout, exhausted

Eight of Wands

Upright: Hastiness, speed, progress, movement, action, rushing, exciting times, travel, freedom, vacation, taking off, gaining momentum, ahead, thinking on your feet, sudden action, hard work paying off, results, solutions, energetic, positive, infatuation, obsession, being swept off your feet, jumping in Reversed: Slowness, lack of speed/ movement/ action/ results, slow progress, delayed/ cancelled/ returning from travel or vacation, restriction, bad timing, losing momentum, missed opportunities, late start, unfinished business, lack of energy, negativity, lack of romance, panicked, hysterical, impatient, impulsive, out of control   

Nine of Wands

Upright: Ongoing battle, battle weary, fatigue, drained of energy, nearly there, close to success, courage, persistence, perseverance, backbone, learning from past failure, gather your strength, fight your corner, last stand, guarded, wounded, expecting trouble, holding out, not working out as planned, setbacks, strength of will Reversed: Refusing to compromise/ give in, stubborn, rigid, obstinate, last one standing, not learning from past, no fight left, chronic fatigue, stalemate, retreat, withdrawal, falling at the final hurdle, lack of courage/ persistence/ perseverance/ backbone, weakness, dropping your guard, unexpected trouble, giving up, chip on shoulder

Ten of Wands

Upright: Overburdened, overloaded, responsibilities, stress, problems, weight on shoulders, duty, drudgery, obligation, saddled, restricted, burn-out, uphill struggle, taken for granted, taking on too much, delays, struggle, resistance,  lost your way, lost focus, major challenges, lack of fun/ spontaneity, keep going, end in sight Reversed: Insurmountable problems, flogging a dead horse, duty-bound, resigned to fate, too much responsibility/ stress, cross too heavy to bear, collapse, breakdown, no stamina, not up to the challenge, working hard but getting nowhere, learning to say no, off-loading, dumping, shirking duties/responsibilities, letting go

Page of Wands

Upright: Good news, swift news, letters, phone calls, word of mouth, fresh, cheerful, childlike, fun playful, active, optimistic, full of energy, bright ideas, new exciting plans, creativity, lovable rogue, charismatic, free-thinking, confident, intelligent, extroverted, fearless, rushing into things, finding your passion Reversed: Hasty, gullible, impatient, lack of energy/ ideas/ creativity/ ambition/ goals/plans, lazy, lethargic pessimistic, spoiled, loud mouth, tantrums, problem/inner child, delinquent, lack of confidence, self-conscious, close-minded, predictable, fearful, boring, procrastinating, failure to act, feeling uninspired, not finding your passion

Knight of Wands

Upright: Being hasty, adventurous, energetic, charming, warm, exciting, fearless, confident, self assured, hero, rebellious, brave, revolutionary, open minded, free spirit, sexy, warm, shameless flirt, hot tempered, travel, moving country, swept off your feet, finishing what you start, success, taking risks Reversed: Arrogant, reckless, hyperactive, daredevil, overly confident, loud, show-off, lack self-discipline/ control, passive, fearful, lack of enthusiasm/ ambition/ purpose, chip on shoulder, violent, abusive, jealous, volatile, extremely aggressive/ hasty, overly competitive, domineering , not finishing what you start, cancelled travel

Queen of Wands

Upright: Energetic, vivacious, strong, courageous, passionate, funny, independent, confident, optimistic, outgoing, assertive, sexy, chaotic, hot tempered, forgetful, efficient, accomplishing many tasks, efficiency, motherhood, fertility, helping others, organizing your life, taking charge Reversed: Pushy, demanding, overbearing, self righteous, busybody, bully, unfriendly, jealous, catty, manipulative, spiteful, vengeful, malicious, liar, deceitful, unfaithful, trouble maker, low confidence/ self esteem/self belief, temperamental, overwhelmed, exhausted, burnt out, fertility issues, bitchy

King of Wands

Upright: Energetic, experience, optimistic, confident, strong, friendly, funny, charming, way with words, fearless, freethinking, motivated, action orientated, proud, passionate, honest, loyal, lenient, dependable, protective,  natural born leader, self centered, controlling, hot tempered, taking control, daring to be different

Reversed: Rude, boorish, forceful, bully, dictator, tyrant, impulsive, abusive, nasty, vicious, bitter, weak, unreliable,  lack of energy/ experience/ enthusiasm, breaking promises, womanizer, volatile temper, taking a back seat, setting a bad example, afraid to be different, not being proactive, undependable, ineffective, powerless

[hualianff]

Untethered II 《I》

I am a Soldier – Shoon

Clink! Clank! Clink!

The violent clashing of metal-on-metal fills Xie Lian’s ears as he enters the scene.

Clink! Clank! Crack!

Cannons go off on both ends, each time rupturing the turbulent atmosphere.

Blood roars in his ears.

Every sound feels distant–almost muffled–yet simultaneously intensified. The prince passes several guards fending off the enemy, uniform gold and white against mismatched grays and blacks. Xie Lian remains unperturbed as he makes his way to the main deck of the ship.

He doesn’t wish to waste his time on pirates with ragged clothes and vulgar obscenities.

“Your Highness, what are you doing out here!?” One of the royal guards screams from a level above.

“Prince Xianle, please go back inside your cabin where it’s safe!” Another one warns, but he’s immediately tackled by a pirate whose growl sounds more non-human than human. Xie Lian pays their objections no mind, ordering his guards not to be distracted and to keep fighting.

It can be described as cruel, the way the prince disregards the very thing these guards are putting their lives on the line for. Even in actual warfare, Xie Lian doesn’t experience extreme feelings of anxiety or terror. Perhaps Xie Lian has desensitized himself of these feelings, albeit in different contexts.

Dying is not his greatest fear.

Xie Lian leaps from the side of the ship that is most secured against enemy attacks to the side that is openly exposed. There, Xie Lian sees a massive ship donning maple-red flags anchored next to the royal ship. Five retractable ramps extend from the pirate ship, granting the enemy access to the royal ship.

Plenty of pirates now circle Xie Lian with interested eyes, interrupting his passive search. Xie Lian’s instincts kick in. He surges forward with impeccable speed, knocking away every enemy that blocks his path. He stabs one right in the gut and flings another into one of the wooden posts.

Xie Lian goes through the motions that he has trained over thousands of times, maddeningly alert in the wake of combat. The bedazzled sword heats up in his hold, serving its master with every twist, splice, and slash. Xie Lian never lets himself be cornered, too swift and practiced to have any blind spots.

After fifteen minutes of pushing back the enemy, XL has temporarily cleared out the area. His attention returns to scanning the opposite ship—Ghost Ship is what it’s called. Xie Lian narrows his eyes, putting one boot on the ramp, looking and listening in anticipation.

The strain of rope being pulled taut is all he needs to hear before he whirls around and blocks the swing of a giant sword–a scimitar. It is thinner and longer than Xie Lian’s own, but wielded with the same amount of brash force.

Xie Lian peers up into the eyes of Crimson Rain.

“We meet again, dear Prince,” the pirate captain purrs, leaning forward to put more pressure on the push of his sword. Xie Lian scoffs, purposefully letting his sword be pushed to the side so he can bolt under Crimson Rain’s arm.

“I must say, it’s quite rude to come uninvited,” Xie Lian says with distaste. He maintains a sideway stance, sword held high as the pirate slowly turns around. The vicious look in Crimson Rain’s left eye sends sparks of electricity down Xie Lian’s spine

“I’m afraid if I were to wait for an invitation, I’d never meet the acquaintance of the prince or his sword again,” Crimson Rain retorts, having the ever-so-sharp tongue. He matches the Prince of Xianle’s posture, standing a good ten centimeters taller than Xie Lian.

This time, it is Xie Lian who makes the first move to attack, aiming his sword in a series of precise jabs to penetrate Crimson Rain’s defenses. The pirate, however, intercepts every one of Xie Lian’s advancements. When their swords collide in a locked battle of strength, Xie Lian glares up at Crimson Rain, spitting out, “I’d expect nothing less from a pirate.”

The aforementioned pirate merely chuckles at that, tilting his head down so their foreheads almost touch.

“I am humbled the prince keeps this lowly pirate in his thoughts,” he says. Both of them abruptly pull back, now aware of the onslaught of shouting from guards and pirates observing their duel from the side while still engaged in their own battles.

“Don’t lose to a filthy royal, Captain!”

“Your Highness, be careful!”

“Finish him, Captain Chengzhu!”

“Protect the prince at all costs!”

Xie Lian breathes heavily, never taking his eyes off of Crimson Rain. The pirate playfully twirls his swords adorned with blood-red jewels, clicking his tongue as if to entice the prince. When Crimson Rain dips down into a lunge, preparing to pounce, Xie Lian steels himself for another barrage of strikes.

This is what he has been training for his whole life.

Ivory and scarlet slam and jam against each other like a fast-paced sequence, a choreographed dance of death that becomes more thrilling the longer it goes on. They are unnervingly matched, predicting their opponent’s next moves with an accuracy that only comes with having dueled on multiple occasions before.

Xie Lian manages to land a well-timed punch on the side of Crimson Rain’s ribs as the pirate spins around to dodge his sword. When the pirate grunts in pain, Xie Lian has time to retreat to the next level; Crimson Rain automatically follows, like a game of tag, of cat and mouse, a predator intent to catch and devour its prey.

“You can’t run from me forever, Your Highness,” Crimson Rain taunts, using one of the ropes to follow Xie Lian to the area where the wheel is, absent of its navigator.

“Perhaps you are saying that because you cannot keep up?” Xie Lian challenges with a raised brow.

This comment renders the pirate captain suspiciously silent, a newfound glint appearing in his narrowed eye. As Xie Lian knocks away the foot Crimson Rain attempts to roundhouse kick into his side, the pirate’s mouth forms an entertained snarl, tongue peeking out to lick across his front teeth.

It’s the most animalistic expression the prince has seen on Crimson Rain’s face, and for a split second, Xie Lian’s stomach drops in fear.

He just pierced the beast.

A drop of water hits the tip of Xie Lian’s nose. He briefly registers that it has started raining. Sinister storm clouds gather in the pink-and-orange-streaked sky, and Crimson Rain’s gaze looks more menacing than ever.  

“Prince Xianle,” Crimson Rain murmurs, walking forward unhurriedly, the heel of his boots clicking loudly against the deck. “Allow me to properly demonstrate a pirate’s stamina.”

Xie Lian can barely lift his sword in time to block Crimson Rain’s next blow, bursting with even more power than previous attacks. It’s so powerful that it sends Xie Lian back a few steps. Not even a second later, another blow comes in a spot that Xie Lian was not expecting, right next to his lower hip. The prince stumbles to his knee after blocking.

The following succession of unmerciful swings perfectly showcases the pirate captain’s scimitar’s impressive length. After the fifth drive that swipes just below Xie Lian’s chin, the prince tumbles back down the stairs that lead from the wheel area to the main deck.

Tiny puddles soak the deck, too slippery for Xie Lian to find a grip with his heel to stand up.

The next stroke smacks his sword out of his hand, disarming Xie Lian from the conquest of the pirate captain. Crimson Rain smiles down in triumph at the prince sprawled on the deck floor. His scimitar flicks forward faster than Xie Lian can comprehend, the rain further obscuring his vision.

“Ah, what do we have here?” Crimson Rain questions, lifting his wrist slightly so the tip of his sword tugs on the inside of the object it’s caught on. Despite wanting to yell it is none of the pirate’s business, Xie Lian bites his lip, choosing not to answer. This does not deter his opponent, who chuckles lowly while eyeing Xie Lian’s neck.

A silver ring, connected to a simple chain, dangles helplessly off the tip of Crimson Rain’s scimitar.

《III》

[flutteringdreams-matw]

Out of Time (3/?)

Link to Ecto-Storm Series

First/Last

Summary: Paradoxes are tricky things - especially when it involves a 15 year old half ghost and his dark future living outside of the timeline. Danny is faced with impossible odds, out of control powers, haunting visions and three possible outcomes in his battle against his ultimate enemy. Sequel to Making to Grade - can be read as standalone. Updates on Sundays and the occasional Wednesday.

Sam rang the doorbell at Fentonworks three times, bouncing on her feet in anticipation. She glanced up at the green dome around the town, reflecting the sun that shone higher above. It had been up for a few hours now according to the news, but no word about why the shield was up in the first place. That included the lack of response from her half-ghost best friend.

"Sam!" Tucker called from behind. She turned to see the teen running up the sidewalk toward Fentonworks, waving to indicate his arrival.

"Any word?" She asked as he came to the steps.

"Not since Jazz texted," Tucker said, frowning.

The door swung open, revealing a tired looking Maddie Fenton to the teens. "Sorry kids, I was in the lab," she told them, ushering them inside. "It's been a long night."

"Where's Danny?" The question was out of Sam's mouth before the door even closed. "What happened?"

"Upstairs," Maddie replied, pursing her lips slightly as she looked up the stairs worriedly. "We'll explain in the kitchen."

The Fenton's kitchen looked like a war zone; various books and papers were scattered across the table with multiple broken inventions and cups of coffee filling whatever space they could. Jack was on the phone, talking loudly and pacing back and forth. Jazz sat staring at her laptop screen, glancing at the pile of weapons at her feet every so often. Sensing the newcomers, Jazz looked up. "Oh good, you're here," she said.

"What happened?" Sam repeated, looking at the chaos.

"Danny had another dream," Jazz explained, her expression turning dark. "Dad managed to wake him after a while, but he freaked out. He flew up to the Ops Center and put up the shield using one of his deeper energy levels. We've been up ever since making sure all our weapons are prepared."

"For what, exactly?" Tucker asked, eyebrow raised.

"Dan."

Sam gasped, exchanging worried looks with Tucker. "How long?" she probed.

"That, we're not sure about," Maddie said, leaning against the counter with a sigh. "Danny passed out after telling us about him."

Jack hung up the phone with a sigh, looking displeased. "Mads, Vladdy's going live at 9am; we're going to need to figure out what to say about the shield. He's going against it."

Maddie frowned at the mention of the mayor. "Jack, that's in 2 hours. We still don't know why he put it up in the first place!"

"You're sure it wasn't just a bad dream?" Tucker queried hopefully.

Jack nodded grimly. "There's no question. Whatever Danny saw, he believed it was real."

The group stood in silence as that sunk in. Sam frowned worriedly as she saw the toll of the night on the other Fentons. Realizing what was needed, she looked over at Jazz. "What can we do?"

Jazz looked at the girl gratefully. "I only met him briefly after Danny got stuck in the future," she said thoughtfully. "You guys saw more of what he can do. Other the peeler, what should we focus on in terms of weapons?"

"I think defense should be the top priority," Tucker rebutted, bringing his hand to his chin in thought. "Danny's not going to be able to keep the shield up and fight; getting a strong ghost shield could help buy some time. Something for the rest of the town too in case the shield goes down. Remember the Ghost King? Those creepy skeletons caused a lot of damage."

"If we recalibrate some of the bazookas for blasting use over transferring back to the Ghost Zone, that may also help," Sam added. "Dan's strong; we'll need things that will pack a punch."

Jack frowned. "Hold on - we're treating this like the Ghost King invasion? Isn't that overreacting a little bit?"

"No."

All five occupants of the kitchen turned to Danny's decisive response. He was dressed, but pale and clammy, leaning heavily against the door frame for support. In one arm he had a USB key, the other his backpack. He grimaced slightly as sparks of green ecto-energy appeared to move through his chest before he managed to suppress them and walk toward the table, silence following him.

"I didn't think you'd be up so soon," Jazz said with a frown, eying her brother worriedly.

Danny dropped into an open seat heavily, sighing. "Neither did I," he replied honestly. He turned to his attention to the information scattered in front of him. He sighed again, putting his elbows on the table and brought his thumbs to the bridge of his nose, holding his head up.

"You look awful," Tucker stated.

"Thanks Tuck, tell me more," Danny replied cynically. Maddie frowned in concern, walking over to the teen and knelt beside him.

"Danny, you really don't look well," Maddie told him softly. "How do you feel?"

"You mean other than holding up a shield above the entire town and dealing with the fact your worst enemy escaped?" he asked drily. Maddie didn't answer and waited until Danny exhaled. "I've been better," he admitted. "The shield is taking a lot out of me."

Maddie bit her lip, unsure if she should press him further on the topic. She looked over to Jack worriedly, who answered her unasked question by shaking his head. "What happened last night?" Maddie questioned instead.

Danny scrunched his eyes tightly as another set of sparks went through his chest. Once it subsided, he exhaled loudly. "I went into my mindscape again. We were in Clockwork's tower, but Clockwork wasn't there. The thermos Dan was trapped in was cracked and then it exploded, he escaped and then that set of dreams came back," he explained slowly. "Next thing I knew, Dad woke me up."

"And then you put up the shield," Sam surmised. Danny grunted in confirmation. "Are you sure what you saw was real?"

"Yeah," Danny breathed.

Sam sighed. "How long until he attacks Amity Park?"

Danny finally opened his eyes and sat up in the chair, looking at his family and friends around him. "I don't know," he said solemnly. "But that shield will buy us some time when he does show up. It's not letting anyone in."

"Wait… you're planning on keeping that shield up?" Sam asked him incredulously. "For how long?"

"As long as it takes," Danny said. Remembering the USB stick, he handed it to his Mother. "Here. It's my ghost file on Dan."

Maddie frowned at the offered storage device. "I thought we already had access to all your files?"

"Not this one," Danny replied darkly. "It has all the information that we need to figure out how to beat him." Danny glanced at the clock, frowning slightly. "We're going to be late," he announced, standing slowly.

"You're actually planning on going to school?!" Sam exclaimed angrily. "Danny, you just had electricity running through your body a minute ago. Don't you think you should take the day?"

Danny frowned, about to argue, before his left eye turned green and he faltered, more electricity flooding his body. With a cry of pain, he grabbed the chair he was just sitting on for support, vaguely hearing his name being called.

The green shield shone brilliantly, holding steady before he felt it shudder. Someone was attacking… from the inside? His vision shifted and he saw the white cape, blue skinned ghost attacking with various forms of pink energy. Vlad? Why was he attacking-

"Danny breathe!"

Danny was brought out of his vision, gasping for air, by his mother shaking his shoulders. As he readjusted, he realized he had fallen onto the floor. Sam was next to him, Tucker and Jazz were in front, all looking very worried. "What… happened?" he asked through gasps.

"Your eye changed colour," Sam told him. Maddie nodded to Sam and the girl moved closer to support her friend. "Then you lit up like Skulker's suit when it gets hacked and collapsed. You just sort of stared into space until your Mom got through to you."

"Did you see something?" Tucker queried. Danny nodded.

"Vlad," he said simply. "He's attacking the shield."

Maddie paused from where she was in the kitchen and turned to her son. "Are you sure?" she asked slowly. "Your father was just on the phone with him – he's doing a press conference about the shield this morning."

"Plasmius," Danny corrected quickly. Maddie pressed her lips together at the swift correction but said nothing. "I think he's trying to test the strength of it and whether he could bring it down."

"Here we go!" Jack boomed as he ran up the stairs from the lab; Danny hadn't even realized the man had left until now. In his hand, he held a small silver device with the shiny green Fenton logo on it. "The Fenton E-Scanner! Good thing we finished it yesterday."

Maddie took the device from her husband and walked over to her son, who eyed the device warily. "It's just an ecto-energy reader Danny," she assured, showing him the device. "Whatever you're doing is taking more energy than you realize." Once he nodded his consent, Maddie brought the scanner to his forehead. After a few seconds, it beeped and Maddie read the readings. She frowned slightly as she looked at the teens in front of her. "No school for you, young man," she told him. "The last thing you need is to have another episode like this. We'll call Ethelwulf after we deal with that press conference – that way we can create an excuse to stop anyone attacking the shield."

Danny frowned, but nodded his confirmation to Maddie. "Just don't tell the school a ghost stole my face again, would you?" Maddie scowled at the reminder of the flimsy excuse but nodded all the same. She looked at Jack, glanced at their son worriedly, before they headed down to the lab, leaving the four teens in the kitchen.

Jazz sighed. "You guys want a ride?" she asked Sam and Tucker, standing.

"Thanks Jazz!" Tucker exclaimed happily.

Jazz waved off his gratitude. "Least I can do for calling you over so early." She turned to her brother in fake annoyance. "Don't do anything stupid while we're gone okay?"

Danny made a face. "No promises."

She gave a pointed look at Tucker before leaving the kitchen. Danny felt the eyes of his friends move toward him and readied himself for the double attack.

"You're using raw energy with the shield, aren't you?" Tucker accused.

Danny, to his credit, didn't deny it. "More like a combination of core and raw energy."

"I know Frostbite said to trust your instincts, but don't you think this is a little much?"

"You saw what he could do," Danny argued. "If I'm able to block him out, even for a bit, then I'm going to risk it."

"And what happens when you face him?" Sam asked, anger starting to lace her voice. "Are you going to try and keep the shield up too? Cause I hate to tell you, but you're barely able to stand without looking like a malfunctioning toaster oven."

Danny let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know okay?" he said. "I just wanted to make sure he couldn't get to Amity Park."

"Gee, if only you could ask world renowned ghost hunters to put up a ghost shield around the town," Tucker said sarcastically.

"Remember, the wail can go through shields," Danny told him, voice rising. "Managed to get through the one in the future at any rate. Besides, if I learned anything from Fear's little science experiment, I know that he'll have trouble with this shield."

"Right, the shield you put up when you had lost control of your powers," Sam reminded angrily. "The one where you were unconscious for almost a week after you defeated him. The one where you almost died after discovering those powers in order to save us."

Danny flinched at the unsaid accusation. Apologetic blue eyes found fearful violet ones before the boy sighed, all the fight draining from him. "I don't want to lose you," he admitted quietly.

Sensing her victory, Sam's face softened at the admission. "Well, we don't want to lose you," she said softly. "You're not alone. I'm here."

Danny realized how close Sam was to him in that moment, still holding him upright, vaguely understanding the weight of those words. He stared at her and she stared back, almost frozen with anticipation of who would say what next.

And then Tucker coughed, making both teens jump out of their thoughts. Sam let go of Danny and looked away, blushing, while Danny caught eyes with his other best friend. Tucker's smug smile made Danny's cheeks grow warmer as he cursed his friend's presence. "I'm here too, in case you're wondering," Tucker teased lightly. Danny glared half-heartedly before the dark skinned boy continued. "Your parents, Jazz, us – we have your back. Sam's right, this shield is going to take a lot of energy from you. If you want to defeat your older jerky self, you'll need to not have your raw energy powers in that shield."

Danny sighed as his sister came back into the kitchen, backpack in tow. He pushed himself upright, Sam hovering over him like a mother hen, as he sat back down at the table. He shot a grateful smile at the girl before frowning at the information in front of him. "I guess I'll go through this stuff," he said distastefully, gesturing toward the pile of weapons at the opposite end.

"Don't hurt yourself," Jazz warned, jingling her car keys toward their backdoor.

Danny smiled wryly. "That's the point, isn't it? The best weapons against him are the best weapons against me."

:-=-:

Dome Watch – Day Three

Three days since the mysterious shield went up around Amity Park and residents are wondering why here? Why now?

Word from City Hall yesterday confirmed that town hero Danny Phantom is responsible for the shield around the town. There is still no confirmation on what warranted the attack but it's brought many residents back to last year, where the town was taken hostage by the Ghost King and again in the summer when Phantom did this last. Unlike the previous domes, residents can leave the town, but require a more forceful approach before being allowed back in.

Resident ghost experts Jack and Maddie Fenton assured the public two days ago that the shield means no harm, but many of their critics, including Mayor Masters, have questioned their authority of the matter with the truce with Phantom being quite new.

More on page 7.

William Lancer frowned as the school bell rang, putting the paper down as he watched his English Class come into the classroom in various forms of enthusiasm – most of them low. This particular class had changed quite in the past year though he supposed the now constant ghost attacks contributed to most of it. Valerie Gray, for instance, sat herself in the front corner; away from everyone she once called her friend. She was a loner, keeping her head down, doing the work and working at least 3 jobs to start saving for college.

Dash Baxter and Kwan Wu's laughter brought the teacher's attention to the A-list of the grade. They were chatting openly about something, occasionally catching the attention of Paulina Sanchez. Lancer assumed they were either talking about the dome or about Phantom. Due to the look on the latter's face, he'd guess Phantom.

He scanned the room as the second bell rang, looking for any missing seats; Only one today. "No Mr. Fenton? Third day in a row," He mused out loud. His two friends at the back looked at each other worriedly. That got the man's attention.

Sam Manson's love of protests, nature, and veganism only amplified this year, but now that they moved onto subjects that peaked her interest, she was easily a top student. Tucker Foley seemed to buckle down a little more this year, getting in nowhere near as much trouble as he did last year and continued his A streak from the year before.

Daniel Fenton on the other hand? Almost two years in High School and he was still an enigma that Lancer still couldn't crack. The only clue the man had that something was going on with him was when his friends shared that look. The one where they knew more to whatever the Fentons claimed him to miss school. The excuses were rather ridiculous – sleeping in, stuck in the weapons vault, trapped in an alternate dimension. Lancer's personal favourite was when they claimed a ghost stole his face and went across town broadcasting him missing. Whether the Fentons knew what Danny was into, Lancer wasn't sure, but that exchange between Manson and Foley, the one of worry, concern and downright fear that they exchange when he's not in the room? There was definitely something going on with Danny Fenton.

"Pens out, desks clear," Mr. Lancer announced, brushing aside his thoughts for a moment. "Test time." The groans of teenage angst and lack of preparedness reach his ears. "Essay question is on the board people. Tell me if Macbeth's choices led to his downfall or if it was all fated to happen. You have the period."

The murmurings of the teens in front of him petered out as he passed out the test, and eventually the scratching of pens to paper greeted his ears. Once the group of sophomores were writing, Lancer sat back at his desk and absently looked down out at the paper once more. The truce between Phantom and the Fentons, however new it might be, seemed to help keep most of the attacks away from the school – it had done wonders for his curriculum delivery. Thankfully, there hadn't been a ghost attack since Phantom put up the shield, but there was no sign of the ghost in question since all of this began. Come to think of it, Lancer couldn't remember when he last saw the Fentons not on a news conference.

Looking up at the empty desk, Lancer sighed as his thoughts came back to his missing pupil. Danny's attendance was far from perfect, but the boy had made a large effort to be at school more often. His random disappearances were less frequent than the previous year, and his overall grades had improved. Even his general demeanour had improved; Danny's start to the school year seemed brighter than anytime the man had seen since the boy started at Casper. The weight he seemingly carried with him was still there, but wasn't as soul crushing as it appeared to be.

"Mr. Lancer?"

The teacher jumped out of his thoughts as Danny Fenton himself stood at his desk. "Mr. Fenton!" Lancer exclaimed, surprised. Right on cue, Manson and Foley's heads flew up from their tests, agape at the teen. "You startled me!"

"Sorry," Danny said sheepishly. Lancer frowned as he noticed the bags under his student's eyes and the paleness of his complexion. "My Mom told me to give this to you." He waved a piece of paper from his hand before he handed it to the teacher.

Lancer opened it and saw the neat handwriting of Maddie Fenton. "Please excuse Danny after first period due to illness." Lancer looked the teen over again; Danny did look very ill. "You know Mr. Fenton, I would've been happy to give you a makeup test once you felt better."

Danny smiled at the man, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Mom's overreacting," he said with a shrug. "Besides, I didn't want to miss anymore school. This was the compromise."

Doubting the boy's words, Lancer sighed. "Very well," he said, handing Danny the test. "Essay question's on the board."

With a small nod, Danny turned to get to his desk. Mr. Lancer watched his slow, staggered steps curiously. Danny moved liked he was injured, stiffly moving as if he favoured one side. Lancer glanced at his two best friends and almost gasped at their expression. Tucker looked almost exasperated but mostly concerned. However Sam… she had so many emotions on her face directed at the boy, Lancer wasn't sure how Danny could weather it. He must have given them some sort of gesture, because both teens softened their expressions slightly, but still looked extremely concerned as Danny took his seat.

Lancer glanced at the student once more as he started writing, before looking out the window. The shield illuminated the town in a sickly green, creating eerie shadows across the school. Lancer shuddered in remembrance of how the town looked during the Ghost King invasion.

About halfway through the period, Lancer started to walk through the aisles of desks, attracting wandering eyes back to their tests. Sure enough, his star students were already finished and just waiting for the end of class. As he got the final row, he sensed something was off. Sam was still writing, with the occasional glimpses toward Danny, whereas Tucker had completed the test and was staring directly at his friend, concerned. Frowning, Lancer moved to Fenton's desk.

Danny was writing, slowly, but his body was shaking. He was paler than before and ultimately looked like he might be sick. "Mr. Fenton?" Lancer asked quietly. The boy didn't answer. Some of the students looked up and toward the commotion in the back; Lancer could swear he hear Baxter snickering slightly. "Danny?" Lancer touched his shoulder and with a soft groan Danny fell sideways. "All the Bright Places!" Lancer exclaimed, quickly moving to catch the boy. His eyes were closed, breathing ragged as the teacher tried to rouse him. "Daniel! Are you alright!?" Lancer moved the boy back upright in his seat, holding him steady. Eventually, Danny opened his eyes, blinking a few times before his gaze settled on his teacher.

"Mr. Lancer?" he asked, confused. Whispers started around the classroom.

"Fenton fainted!" Dash exclaimed unhelpfully, earning laughter from a group of his peers in his direct vicinity.

"Thank you for that, Mr. Baxter," Lancer said curtly, still looking Danny over as the boy tried to regain his bearings. "Daniel, perhaps you should go to the Nurse's office." When the teen in front of him didn't register his voice, Lancer frowned; he doubted the boy would make it on his own.

"I'll go with him!" The teacher turned, eyebrows raised at the three voices. He had expected Manson and Foley, but Ms. Gray's outburst? She hadn't shown interest in her peers since last year.

Manson and Gray were glaring at each other from across the room, some sort of rivalry shining in both their eyes. The concern for the boy was evident, but Lancer could sense the anger, worry and concern that Sam felt for Danny ooze out of her body. Mr. Foley on the other hand? It was a testament to how dire the situation must be for the teen to volunteer to go to the nurse's office.

Glancing back toward the ill teen, Lancer sighed. They didn't have time for the teacher to be suspicious. "Alright Mr. Foley, as you've finished."

Tucker hastily got out of his seat, gathered Danny's items and helped the sick student upright. Danny faltered as he stood, but regained his balance and managed to get himself out of the room, Tucker following closely behind him. Mr. Lancer watched them go, frowning slightly. There was something nagging him about this situation, but he couldn't place it. Once the students were down the hall, the teacher sighed as he pushed aside his worry yet again.

"Back at it Sophomores. The more you dally, the lower the grade."

:-=-:

The world exploded as he finally escaped that foul prison. Dan stretched, moving his stiff limbs as he looked at his surroundings. "Finally," he said, looking around the burning lair around him. "Now, where is that infernal Time Ghost." Flying upwards in the tower, Dan started to launch ecto-blasts at various clocks, trying to goad Clockwork into appearing. "Clockwork!" He yelled dramatically as he continued to destroy the lair.

A large chime made Dan stopped suddenly, enveloped in the chaos surrounding him. His eyes drifted to Clockwork's time glass as various battles involving his younger self played back at him through the blue flames. Dan frowned. "Of course, new timeline." He floated in place, watching his past self grow stronger in the time he was detained. It couldn't have been more than a year. The flames cracked the orb, running directly through an image of Danny fighting what looked like a large plant ghost.

"Perhaps I should show him what it's like to have a blast from your past," he mused, a small smile appearing at his face. He chuckled darkly as his hands lit up with green energy and broke the time glass in front of him. "Or rather, his future." Dan Phantom flew up and out of the burning tower, leaving behind a fading image of fifteen year old Danny Phantom on Clockwork's broken time glass. A few seconds later, horrific sonic waves reverberated through the tower, enhancing the flames and making the tower itself rumble. With a final crash, Clockwork's Clock Tower imploded, engulfed in flames.

:-=-:

Danny stumbled into a series of lockers, gripping it tightly as he heard Tucker come up behind him. They were out of earshot from Lancer's class and halfway to the nurse's office.

"What the hell Danny!?" Tucker asked angrily, arms crossed and a dangerous glare on his face. Danny sighed as he turned to his friend. "You're lucky you only passed out in there!"

"We still haven't gotten a hold of Ethelwulf," Danny told him, standing up straighter. "It's been three days; the school would be looking for answers if I missed another one. I needed to make an appearance somehow."

Tucker sighed, the anger still not leaving his face. "Why'd you pass out this time? Someone trying to get into the shield or another vision?"

"Vision," Danny said, looking away.

Tucker frowned. "It's another of Dan escaping, isn't it?" Tucker accused. The teen in question stayed silent. Taking that as his answer, Tucker sighed again. "Danny, that's the sixth one since the shield began! Don't you think some of these are just dreams?"

"Maybe," he conceded, frowning slightly. "But it doesn't explain why I keep getting them, or why they're appearing at random."

The two teens stood silent, waiting for the other to make the first move. Tucker sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he walked closer to his friend. "Danny, you need to take the shield down," Tucker told him quietly, staring out the large window of the Casper High Hallway to their football field. Danny also turned his vision to the outside world. He felt the shield hum through his powers, frowning as he considered his friend's plea. "It's taking way too much energy to sustain and for what? Just a hunch that the worst villain you ever faced might be coming back?"

"Isn't that a reason to keep it up?" Danny refuted, eyebrow raised.

"Not at the risk to yourself!" Tucker exclaimed exasperatedly. "Let's say you're right, and he attacks the town. How are you going defend yourself? How are you going to fight?"

"It affects me less as Phantom."

"Bull," Tucker said angrily. "We both know it affects you regardless. You're using raw energy remember? There's a balance between you overextending the amount of core energy, which makes you relive the portal accident, and your base powers." Tucker's anger lessened a bit, trying to get his friend to see reason. "At least take back some of your energy; if you feel something attacking the shield then go nuts. This is too dangerous and there's no point in draining yourself."

Danny sighed, taking inventory of his powers. Tucker was right; he felt exhausted. He opened his mouth to agree, but gasped instead, doubling over in pain. Something was wrong. His eyes went green, mouth agape at an unseen foe.

"Danny!" Tucker exclaimed worriedly. The half-ghost looked up at his friend, alarmed.

"Duck," he gritted out, before the world was drowned out by a deep wail. The ground beneath them shook as Danny, biting back a scream, held the shield up. The windows shattered, leaving glass scattered around the teens as Tucker tried to keep his friend upright. After what felt like hours, the wail stopped, sending both teens crashing to the floor. Tucker looked at Danny with concern, watching his friend pant from exertion as the shield shuddered above them. Dread pooled in the pit of Tucker's stomach as he realized what that attack meant.

"Danny…" Tucker trailed off, wide eyed. Danny didn't answer; once he reclaimed his breathing, he gave Tucker a long look, causing the dark skinned teen's eyes to widen further in alarm. "Danny wait!" Tucker exclaimed, reaching out to his friend. It was too late; Danny transformed, grunting slightly, and took off, leaving his best friend behind in the destroyed hallway.

Tucker stood, watching him fly off in the distance before cursing. "Sam's going to kill me," he muttered, jumping up and running down the halls toward Jazz's homeroom.