#is this a trick? is this a treat? who's to say

[cllightning81]

Tractors and Christmas Lights

Summary : Oscar is due for an event at your dads farm and its time to come clean

Pairing/s: Oscar Piastri x Clarkson!Reader

Word Count : 1.8k

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You met Oscar during Silverstone in 2023. His first year on the grid and your first race that year. When your dad asked what you thought of Oscar, you just responded with ‘He’s a cool kid’. Trying to play it cool to your dad even though you and Oscar had spoken a lot that weekend and even shared numbers with the promise of meeting up, and that’s what you did. 

During his break after the Silverstone Grand Prix and his meetings at the MTC, you met up with Oscar a couple of times getting to know the young man before he asked you out for real to be his girlfriend. From there your dates slowed down, racing threw him into tough double and triple headers and for a while, it was the end of farming season and Diddly Squat Farm Shop wasn’t closing down just because your dad had nothing to harvest after the harvesting season was done. While your dates slowed down, one thing that never did was your communication. 

Driving the tractor around the fields harvesting the wheat and whatever else your dad and Kaleb had planted texting Oscar one-handed, or helping out in the shop texting Oscar as you restocked the shelves despite the dirty looks from the older customers that only came because of the show. It was safe to say you were as close as ever even from the other side of the world. 

The topic of you and Oscar just never showed up in conversations with your dad or Kaleb, who at this point had just become another older brother but just more annoying than Finlo because you saw him more often. 

That was until Mclaren called, wanting Oscar to come do a thing with Clarkson’s Farm. Obviously, your dad, being a massive F1 fan and wanting new PR, agreed. Just like he agreed to go to Alpine and celebrate there. 

Now here you were rolling your eyes as the McLaren pulled up through the farm, you couldn’t roll your eyes considering that you were the one that most often drove that Lambo tractor your dad bought when he first needed a tractor. 

You leaned against the sign watching him as he got out of the car looking around at the farm. You could see his smile spread as he spotted you standing against the sign. Walking over to you as he looked you up and down 

“Morning Mr Piastri” You smirked, pushing yourself off the sign. It was early in the morning, and no one was about at the moment except your dad who’d left you in charge so he could go have some breakfast. 

“Morning Miss Clarkson” He hummed as you reached forward, holding his hand 

“Ready for a fun day on the farm?” You asked, looking down at your sheepdog who decided to check out the new visitor who’d shown up 

“Who’s this?” Oscar asked, crouching down to clap her 

“This is Lassie. I’m currently training her to herd the sheep so dad doesn’t have to keep doing it” You smiled 

“Been teaching her F1 tricks like that one pup did the other week?” He asked, and you shrugged a little 

“Stand up and open your legs just wide enough for her to slide in” You directed, and he nodded, doing as told. You stood in front of Oscar a treat in hand at her eye level

“Lassie red flag” you directed, and she instantly moved in between Oscar’s legs, looking up at him for her treat, which you handed to him. 

“You taught her red flag?” He asked, and you nodded 

“And box box obviously” You chuckled. Lassie ran off to the farm shop following your instructions and going to her bed. Oscar frowned as you chuckled, watching her run away 

“Where’s she off to?” He asked 

“Her bed. The box box is bed. I also taught her green flag instead of okay” You smiled, clearly proud of yourself as Oscar laughed at you. You wrapped your arms around him for a hug before pulling back and looking him up and down.

“We need to get you changed” You hummed, walking away, allowing him to follow behind you as you walked into the farmhouse where you tend to stay during birthing season. Oscar looked about his curiosity peaking as he looked at your ‘second home’. 

“This is where Kaleb and I tend to stay during birthing season just so that we’re close to the animals” You explained, walking to the room you claimed as your own, finding some suitable clothes for Oscar 

“So I think dad’s plan is to basically just get you driving a tractor. I don’t think he has anything else planned” You shrugged, and he nodded, taking the clothes you offered him before you sat down on your bed. Oscar got changed as you looked at your phone texting your dad to update him.

“So I get to see your life now” He smirked, turning around to you as you looked him up and down. 

“You do except not really” You shrugged, getting up and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him down to your height. Pressing your lips against his own as he smirked into the kiss 

“We should confess today when there’s lots of cameras about” You whispered against his lips

“So our confession will be on camera?” he asked, and you shook your head 

“No, obviously not. However, he can’t react badly” You hummed, and he frowned 

“But your dad won’t react badly either way” He counted, and you shrugged 

“That’s true” You hummed, pressing your lips against his again as his hands threaded through your hair. The moment with Oscar was nice. There was no one around to judge, and you were able to just relax with him. 

An hour later, Kaleb and your dad had Oscar in the tractor, trying to reverse it into the shed. It was stressing you out. Your poor tractor is driven backwards by someone who only drives forward at high speeds. While he wasn’t doing a bad job at reversing it in, he also wasn’t doing the best job. 

Lassie happily stood in between your legs, her tail wagging and slapping against your thighs. You couldn’t keep watching Oscar attempt to reverse the tractor, so we walked back into the farm shop to get everyone a cup of tea, Lassie happily walked alongside you. 

By the time you returned with the four cups of tea, Oscar had finally managed to get the tractor into the shed and was now talking with Kaleb and your dad. Lassie, assuming it was her time to go into the tractor, jumped in next to Oscar, laying at his feet. You handed out the cups with a smile as Oscar continued to sit in the tractor. 

“At least it wasn’t dad’s tractor” You joked with Kaleb, who couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Oscar frowned, looking over 

“What’s the difference between the tractors?” He asked, and you looked up at him 

“Dad’s is a lambo” You shrugged, and Oscar’s eyes widened 

“Please tell me you’re joking” He replied as both you and Kaleb shook your head, taking a sip of tea 

“He was looking at buying a Ferrari tractor. Maybe you should tell Zak to make Mclaren tractors” You shrugged, setting your tea down to the side to throw the ball for Lassie. 

When the farm shop had shut for the night, you couldn’t help but smile knowing that you now got to go away with Oscar after telling your dad about the relationship. Walking down the stairs with your bag in hand to find not only your dad sat there but Kaleb as well. 

“Where are you of too?” Kaleb asked as you shrugged 

“Just meeting up with someone” you replied as Kaleb raised an eyebrow, tilting his head 

“Would that be your boyfriend?” He asked, and you nodded slightly, biting your lip as your dad’s head picked up

“Ohh do we know him?” He asked obviously, just wanting to be nosey 

“You met him earlier” you replied, glancing between the two of them as Kaleb started laughing, and your dad groaned, throwing his head back 

“What?” you asked 

“Mr Clarkson owes be twenty quid” Kaleb laughed as your own eyes widened. 

“You bet on my relationship?” You asked quietly 

“Not on your relationship just who it was” your dad replied as you nodded slightly, slowly backing away 

“Okay well bye” you hummed quickly, rushing out the door and over to Oscar’s McLaren, which was parked at the main gate as he waited on yours. Quickly settling yourself into the nice warm car after the cold English weather had hit you 

“Are you okay?” Oscar asked, turning to look at you 

“Kaleb and my dad bet on who I was dating” you replied. Looking at him, it was Oscar’s turn to laugh, which made you laugh, finally easing into the situation. Driving with Oscar on the long drive back to his house was relaxing, the casual conversation, the silent moments. It was just what you needed. 

When you arrived back at Oscars house, it was dark outside, the Christmas lights lighting up the streets along with the ones on the roof of his own house 

“Aww didn't realise you were so into Christmas” You smiled, turning to look at him 

“I have my secrets” he shrugged, taking your bag as he got out of the car. Following behind him with a smile. 

As Oscar unlocked his front door, you couldn't help but look at all the Christmas decorations inside. The Christmas tree in the hall is decorated in red with warm white lighting. As you walked into his living room, you couldn't help but smile at his cosy decorations. 

For someone who spent a lot of time away from home, it definitely felt like home. His tree in the living room is decorated with navy baubles, and this time, some cool white lights wrapping around the snowy branches. 

“Your house is a lot cosier at Christmas” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist as he stood next to you. One of his arms wrapping around your shoulder to pull you closer to him 

“There's a papaya christmas tree in my sim room” he shrugged, and you laughed, knowing it was true from the pictures he'd sent.

“I don't doubt that's where you put that tree” you smiled as he walked you both to the sofa to sit down. 

You couldn't help but lay on top of him as he settled on the couch. Oscars arms wrapped around you as your head rested on his chest. 

“I have the best Christmas present for you. Shame you've got to get it late” he sighed 

“Actually now dad and Kaleb know we're dating, and you're spending Christmas day in the UK. I figured I'd take you up on your offer of staying Christmas eve” you smiled up at him. 

Oscar smiled down at you, leaning down to press his lips to your own. It was a perfect way to spend a cold December night.

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[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 63: Lilia and Malleus (pt10)

Part of Lilia’s services to Malleus seems to be delivering things on Malleus’ behalf: Malleus has him deliver the invitation to the Spectral Soiree halloween party to the students who remain on campus, has him deliver a holiday greeting card to the prefect, and in a vignette we see Lilia fetching French fries on Malleus’ behalf.

It seems that these deliveries might not work in reverse: Leona says that they used to send letters to Malleus via Lilia to remind him of housewarden meetings, but Lilia was always losing them.

Lilia declares at the start of Beanfest that he intends “to go after Malleus quite aggressively,” and we see them fighting in the forest behind the school while insulting one another and having a wonderful time. Vil says that not even he can gauge Lilia’s full capabilities, while Floyd points out that Lilia is not only holding his own against Malleus, but he is “dancing circles around him.”

Lilia reveals later than he successfully struck Malleus down, but he might have been in danger if Malleus hadn’t run out of ammunition partway through their fight, and “There were more close shaves than (he) would've liked.”

Malleus generally does not appreciate Lilia treating him like a child: when complimenting Malleus on his magic Malleus asks, “Must you continue to speak to me as if I were a child? After all this time?,” and when Lilia tries to fix his hat for a photo Malleus responds, “I'm no longer a child, Lilia.”

After hearing about how Silver and Lilia would spend Halloween together Lilia offers to arrange a trick-or-treating experience for Malleus if he is jealous. Malleus again insists that he is not a child and Lilia says, “Your insistence on being seen as a grown-up seems pretty childish to me.”

While Lilia consoles a “mopey” Malleus he again insists he is not a child, saying, “Only you and Grandmother ruffle my hair that way. What am I to do with you?”

[wandascosmic]

Could you write just a cute fic where Wanda and reader do a bunch of autumn season activities. Like Wanda loves to bake so she makes some halloween themed desserts with the help of reader (who in reality just makes a mess and eats all the ingredients).

Wanda would also probably be the type to just want to take a walk because she likes seeing the trees that change color, and of course reader wouldn’t listen when Wanda told her to dress warm so Wanda sacrifices her scarf or hat or both for her to wear instead.

Then for halloween all the avengers could dress up in costumes to hand out candy to the kids, and reader would convince Wanda to do a couples costume.

autumn appreciation (request)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: in which you and your girlfriend make the most of the wonderful autumn season.

word count: 965

tags: unedited, fluff, domesticity, idiots baking together, our favorite couple going for a walk, couples costume!!!, kids trick or treating at the avengers compound, we love halloween so much

“Hey, Nat, have you seen Wanda?” you ask the assassin in the compound. 

Nat shrugs. “I’m pretty sure she’s making ghost cookies, pumpkin cookies, and a witch-shaped cake on a broom. Which is odd because couldn’t she just make a self-portrait–”

“Got it, thanks Nat!” you cut her off, running in the direction of your girlfriend. 

Stopping in the kitchen, you grin at the sight before you. Wanda was in deep focus, mixing a bunch of cake batter in various bowls, trying her best to bake to perfection. However, she was covered in flour, food coloring, and every baking ingredient you could think of had somehow stained her apron. 

“Witchy,” you greet, walking over towards her. 

“Y/N!” Wanda’s eyes light up before you as she makes her way over, giving you a tight hug before you could protest. 

“Wands,” you say, as Wanda refuses to let go. 

“Hm?” Wanda hums. 

“You’re covered in every baking ingredient in America,” you say, snickering. 

Wanda gasps, immediately letting go and seeing your shirt stained with everything that was on her apron. “I’m so sorry, detka! I’ll go get you a new shirt and change this apron– I didn’t even realize–” 

“Wands, don’t worry,” you cut off. “You’re not really baking if you’re not covered in head to toe in flour and confectioner’s sugar.” 

Wanda grins in response.

“Besides, I came over here to help you, since it looked like fun and I haven’t seen you yet today,” you reassure. 

“Oh!” Wanda says excitedly. “Yes, that would be so much fun. Okay, so I need some help with the ghost cookies since the frosting is a little tricky cause it’s a different kind than the pumpkin ones, so let’s do that!” Wanda grabs your hand and begins to lead you to the kitchen.

You grab a measuring cup and start getting to work per Wanda’s instructions. 

Two hours later, you and Wanda are still hard at work. 

“Detka, I think the kitchen is even messier with you than when I started. And that’s saying something since it looked like a flour bomb had gone off in front of me,” Wanda giggles. 

“Hey, you put me to work, woman,” you say, grabbing a piece of cookie dough and munching on it. 

“And you’ve mostly just eaten our ingredients.” 

“You put candy in front of me, you can’t expect me not to eat it,” you shrug. “Plus, we’re basically almost done now! We’ve just got to put everything in the oven.” You grin. “What do you say to your wonderful girlfriend?” 

“Don’t eat all the marshmallows next time?” Wanda retorts with her arms crossed. 

You give her a look, causing Wanda to finally let her smile shine through. 

“Fine, thank you, I love you,” Wanda gives you a kiss. 

“I love you too, my grumpy Sokovian witch.” 

And by the end of the day, every treat you and Wanda had worked so hard on has been eaten by a member of the compound.

*** “Baby,” Wanda shakes you lightly on the couch as you sleep on top of her chest. 

“Hm?” you hum sleepily. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” Wanda says. 

“Why?” you ask, looking at Wanda confusedly. “We rarely take walks.” 

“That’s why we should start!” Wanda responds. “I want to see the leaves change color, please,” Wanda stretches out the last syllable and gives you a pleading look. 

“Fine,” you agree reluctantly. 

“Thank you!” Wanda says, giving you a kiss. “I’m gonna grab my coat, you grab yours too since it’s cold.”

But, of course, you don’t listen to your incredibly smart girlfriend.  

Two minutes into your walk, in which Wanda’s already gushed about seven yellow trees, eight red trees, and five orange trees, you’re completely freezing, and trying your best to hide your shivers. 

But, of course, Wanda notices. 

And silently, Wanda wraps her scarf around your neck and gives you her hat, pulling you into your arms as you continue your walk down the beautiful trail. 

***

“Wanda, come on, it’ll be fun!” you argue, the morning of Halloween. 

“I don’t know,” Wanda says reluctantly as you show her the peanut butter and jelly costume you had bought for the two of you. Wanda was going to be the jelly, of course. 

“Please, witchy?” you give her your best pleading look to which Wanda’s incapable of saying no to. 

“Fine,” Wanda agrees. “But you owe me,” she says, grabbing the costume and going into the bathroom to change. 

“You got it,” you agree, yelling past the door. 

The kids love yours and Wanda’s costume, every single child who’s rang the doorbell and said trick or treat has pointed out your costume, making Wanda blush every time. 

“Trick or treat!” the last group of kids said in unison as Steve opened the compound door. 

“It’s the Avengers!” one of them remarked. 

“You guys are so cool,” another one said. 

“Hey, you guys are the best couple!” a girl, about five years younger than you pointed at you and Wanda. “I love you guys so much.” 

“Aw, we love you,” you respond, giving her a few extra pieces of candy as well as her friends. 

The kids take a few pictures with a couple of you, and you wave as they leave, “Have a great evening!” you call out.

Closing the door, Steve turns to you all, “I think we’re good for tonight, goodnight everyone,” he says, heading off in the direction of his room. 

You turn to Wanda with a grin. “So, wasn’t the costume worth it?” 

“I look ridiculous,” Wanda retorts. “But, unfortunately, anything for you, detka.” 

“I’ll return the favor next year,” you tell her with a kiss. 

“You better,” Wanda says, wrapping her arms around your waist as you both head off to bed together.

[voice-o-fallacy]

Oh hey would you look at that, it’s more player take from a sleepy idiot, rejoice /s

> As the basis of everything here, the player is treated more like a character/oc than a self-insert. I hc that everyone (including the player) sees the world in Block Tales as the real world (even if it might go against canon). Everyone but Shed and Builderman. The devs see it more as a game they built and maintained.

> The player is barely 20 when they were sent back from the future.

> Assuming Builderman’s kidnapping in 2010 marks the start of the end of the world, and they traveled back from 2024, they spent almost their entire formative year struggling to survive in an apocalypse.

> The peaceful present day (2010) existed only in their distant childhood memories. To be here in person again as now a (young) adult is a surreal experience to say the least.

> It’s not wholly negative, mind you. The peace and quiet and the abundance of material goods, they enjoy those a lot. They really took their time to try out every kinds of food, and they’ve already joined Griefer as half a Bloxy Cola addict.

> However, the stability of the present day - how everyone seems to collectively believe in this normalcy, wholly oblivious to how wrong everything can get in the near future - unnerves them sometimes. How are you smiling when you are walking into your own graves? It keeps them vigilante, running around even when no new instruction has been given by Shed. Kyoko might have to wrestle them a bit to have them actually sit down with her.

> Luckily their life experiences didn’t make them a brooding asshole. If anything they tend to shoulder the responsibility of being the funny one. Growing up as one of the youngest in their survivor group means when people look at them, they either see hope, or liability. They learnt to stay happy and stay strong for the ones cared about them. Or lay low and be useful when their survival relied on someone who’s not wholly happy about dragging a kid along.

> On an unrelated note, the player is a scrapper. Meaning they’ll use any dirty trick in or not in the book to win any fight, and they tend to shittalk their enemies sometimes.

> Shed gave absolutely no funding to the player, even if they’re literally saving his business partner and possibly the world, except means of transportation. Being familiar with the game’s mechanics, he’s sure the drops/loots will give them enough Tix to go by and they can figure it out.

> The player just halfheartedly chalked it up as Shed being a cheapskate.

The guy (gender neutral) in question. Their current design at least

[writingdevil]

Tongues and Teeth PT.3 (STP)

Somewhere else in the forest-

"C'mere!"

"Stop this-"

"C'mon pipsqueak!Just one round!"

"Pointless.Should be searching,should be looking-our flock-"

"Who cares about them?This is more important!"

"No-this is a waste-just listen to-ugh."

"Hey!Get back here!"

*

If Paranoid's head wasn't full from Oppy's constant need to voice his every thought,then it definitely was from his back and forth with Contrarian.

Contrarian would say something outlandish,clearly as a way to rile them up,but Oppy would just attempt to give him a proper answer,treating it like a serious question.

Paranoid wasn't sure if Oppy was trying to have a genuine conversation with Contrarian,but when he glanced down at them,he heard a hidden frustration in Contrarian's voice,and then he noticed Oppy's smirk,and he knew the two were just trying to annoy each other.Whatever.As long as they didn't involve him,they could play all the mind games they wanted.

The sun was shining down on them as they walked, and Paranoid was trying to remember if they had ever experienced sunlight while with Him,until he felt it.

"Stop!"he ordered,spreading both his wings and arms out to block the other two.He stared at the ground below them,keeping his breath as quiet as he could.

"Um,Jitters?"Oppy cautiously said,"what's wrong?"

"Yeah,"Contrarian added,resting his elbow on Paranoid's shoulder,"I mean the dirt is interesting and all but-"

"Shut up!"Paranoid whispered harshly in his face, before staring at the ground again.One second passed.Then another.Then-

Thump.

The ground shook.

"What was that?"Oppy asked,fear in his voice now, but the only answer he got was another rumble of the earth.Paranoid was frozen,his eyes now searching the woods around him,trying to figure out what was big enough to make that sound.His first thought was some of the Princesses,but they weren't here anymore,so what-

"Get down!Get down now!"Paranoid hissed, grabbing both of them and diving towards the nearest thing to hide them-a huge boulder.He made sure the three of them were completely covered by the rock,giving Contrarian a warning glare to keep his mouth shut,before peeking out from behind the boulder.

The trees in the distance began to part.Then Paranoid felt his heart drop at what he saw.

It was a thing,a monster,with no discernible face or features of any kind.Its body was a pulsating,black mass,that wriggled and squirmed,as if something was trying to get out of it.But then there were the arms.

Pale arms stuck out of the body like disgusting worms,flailing and grabbing at nothing,and some were even being used as legs,dragging the creature forward.

It was here for them.Paranoid knew it.

"Fucking hell,"Contrarian whispered,and that was what set Paranoid off.

"It's here to kill us,"he whispered,squeezing his eyes shut and pinning his back against the sturdy rock, scraping his claws along the surface.His breathing was out of control-his chest burned and his heart was pounding painfully against his chest."It's one of that Echo's tricks or-or-some other terrible thing that the Princess turned into.We shouldn't be here-we should be with Him and that thing's gonna kill us now-"

"Jitters,"but then there was Oppy's voice,and then a large wing was draped around him,"breathe."He tried.He tried to recite his chant,but then he would hear that thing move,and the fear gripped him even tighter each time.

He heard Oppy sigh,and then there was a warm hand grasping his,and he forced himself to open his eyes,coming face to face with Oppy's determined one."It doesn't matter what it is or why it's here.All we need to figure out is how to survive."

Survive.That was what they did.That was what he was good at,keeping them alive.

He focused on the feel of Oppy's hand in his,and slowly,his breathing began to slow down.

"You back with us?"Contrarian asked,and Paranoid took a deep breath in,then nodded.

"Good,so what the hell is that thing?"Contrarian asked,careful to keep his voice low as he hissed,but his volume still worried Paranoid.

"I say we leave the questions with Skeptic,"Oppy suggested,"he's probably got this whole situation figured out by now,and us standing around and discussing it?Won't help us leave in one piece."

"You're right,"Paranoid whispered,glancing between the two of them."Let's just focus on not dying.Can we agree on that?"He gave Contrarian a pointed look,who just put his hands up in surrender."Hey, don't look at me.There's no fun in dying,so let's get outta here."

Paranoid sighed,then stood up to peek over the boulder.Oppy tried grabbing his arm,but he batted it away,peering over the edge.

The monster was still there,and it's arms were gripping and touching every rock and leaf in sight, its only way of detecting things,no doubt.

"It doesn't look like it's gonna move anytime soon."

"So how are we gonna escape without getting caught?"Contrarian asked in dismay,but then Oppy coughed,and Paranoid was about to snap at him, until Oppy gave the two of them a confident grin, spreading his wings wide."Gentlemen,I think the solution is simple."

Paranoid gasped,but it was one of delight."Yes,of course!We can just fly away-that thing doesn't look like it can jump and grab us out of the air."

"Exactly,"Oppy said,pride clear on his face,but then unsurprisingly,it was Contrarian who made a noise of disagreement.Paranoid turned to ask him what was wrong,but then he noticed that Contrarian's attention was elsewhere.

Contrarian briefly glanced up at Oppy,nodding at Paranoid as he said,"He's not gonna be able to fly. Look at his wings,mate."

Oppy rolled his eyes."What are you talking-oh."

Paranoid had no idea what they were talking about, but when he looked down at his own wings,he instantly noticed a difference.

He knew that his feathers looked thin,but when compared to the other two,his own wings looked practically unhealthy.The other two had wings full of plump,strong feathers,covered from the base to the end.But Paranoid's wings looked frail,and he realised that they weren't as full as his friends wings,with patches more bare than others.

His wings weren't capable of saving him.

Before he had a chance to freak out again,Oppy straightened up,merely giving Paranoid's wings a single glance as he said,"Okay,new plan-I'll carry Jitters to safety,while you-"pointing at Contrarian,"-will go out there and cause a distraction-you're good at that stuff.Once Jitters is safe,I'll circle back and help you.That sounds like a good plan,right?"

"You think you can carry me?"Paranoid looked him up and down,but Oppy just gave him a reassuring smile."Sure,you look scrawny-I mean light enough-to carry."Oppy chuckled nervously as Paranoid glared at him,but this plan felt stable enough to him.

"Okay,"he nodded,then looked over at Contrarian. "You good with your part?"Contrarion nodded,but still peeked out over the boulder nervously."Yeah, but are we sure that we can't-"

"Do your thing,clown boy!"

Without waiting for him to finish,Oppy pushed him out into the open with a ruthless smirk,and Paranoid had no time to yell at him as hands looped under his arms,and soon he felt his feet leave the ground.

All Paranoid could do was shake and mutter his chant under his breath,and he could see Contrarian down below,flapping wildly,taunting and circling the thing,guiding it to the left,so Oppy swerved right.Paranoid tried to keep Contrarian in his sights for as long as possible,but then the area darkened with the shadows of trees,and he was deep in the forest again.

Oppy planted him gently on the ground,a crazed yet determined glint in his eyes as he flapped in the air.He nodded towards Paranoid and said,"Stay safe, Jitters.I'll be back with that clown in a minute. Try not to miss me too much."With that,Oppy gave him a wink,and took off into the air again.

Paranoid's knees trembled with the effort to keep him upright,and all he could manage is do was stare at the space that Oppy had been.

He wrapped his wings around him on instinct,as a way to comfort himself,but now he couldn't not notice how wrong his wings looked compared to Oppy and Contrarian,and probably the others as well.

Paranoid used to be the voice that people could rely on in times of danger.But right now,he had to be carried away while Oppy and Contrarian did all the work-how mortifying.

He brought a wing over his lap as he sat on the ground,fingers lightly tracing over the feathers,until one dark feather fell off with merely a brush of his claws.He stopped,staring at how easy it was for his wings to fall apart.Why was this the way he started?Was this who he truly was as a solid person?

Paranoid used to be the only voice that could keep Him safe,at least physically.He used to whisper fears in His ears so that the Princess couldn't deceive them,and he would always throw himself into his chant,because there was nothing worse than dying to her.

But now,sitting in this forest,with a monster on the loose?Paranoid had never felt so useless.

"Never thought I'd see you with a look of defeat on your face."

*

"You can do this.You can do this,"Opportunist whispered to himself,flying back as fast as he could.All he has to do is make sure that that clown doesn't get himself killed,so that everything can get back on track.

It was easy to find them,what with the gigantic monster and all.Opportunist had no idea what that thing was,but he assumed that it had something to do with The Shifting Mound.Maybe it was another piece of her.Maybe this was what became of all the different vessels of the Princess.

Whatever.Dwelling on it was pointless in his eyes,so he just flew faster,until he found Contrarian, somehow doing cartwheels in the air above the monster,and he could hear him shouting some dumb jokes to it.

The monster was attempting to find the source of the voice,but all it could do was flail its arms about angrily,and if it could talk,Opportunist was certain it would be growling in frustration now.

He swooped low,not waiting for Contrarian to see him.Shouting to him would've just given away his own position,so he just flew straight for Contrarian, who caught him at the last moment,just as Opportunist grabbed his arm and smacked a hand over his mouth,desperately trying not to look at the wriggling black mass below them.

He flew high enough into the air that the thing couldn't hear them,and he let go of Contrarian."You good?"Contrarian nodded,grinning giddily."I think that guy liked my jokes!I'm pretty sure if it had a mouth it would be laughing."

"Of course it would,you're the funniest of us all."The compliment fell out of him easily,a habit at this point,even though he had just called him boring not too long ago.

Contrarian didn't seem to realise this though,as he looked back down at the monster curiously."What do you think that thing is?"Opportunist grimaced at it and waved it away.,beginning to fly away. "Nothing good for us,so let's just leave it be."

"Really?"Contrarian said in surprise,following him as they spoke."You don't wanna try and see what this guy's about?See if it'll help us?Usually avoiding stuff is Hunted's deal."

"Yes,well,in this case,the creature doesn't seem-sapient,"and he cast a wary look towards the creature,"so maybe avoiding it is the wiser option."

Contrarian shrugged,and Opportunist sighed, waving him forward as he said,"C'mon,we'll fly to where Jitters is."They took off in silence,which Opportunist was genuinely surprised by,but he should've known better.

They had been flying for not even a full minute, before Contrarian flew up next to him,a mischievous smile on his face,and before he could ask what was wrong,Contrarian casually said, "Actually,I feel like walking,"before grabbing Opportunist's arm and plummeting to the ground.

"Son of a bitch!"

Opportunist continued to swear the entire way down.This was different than with Jitters-this time, Contrarian was actively pulling him down with his weight,making no effort to fly at all.He actually put his arms behind his head as well!

Opportunist flapped his wings as hard as he could, managing to pull Contrarian up just enough so that he could glide instead of crashing to the ground.

He unceremoniously dropped the clown,who giggled as he fell,and Opportunist sighed as he floated down gracefully next to him,hands on hips. He glared at Contrarian as he shakily got to his feet, and he didn't miss the devious glint in his eyes as he stood up,and he knew that look meant 'That's for calling my jokes boring,asshole.'Whatever,he could have this small win.

Contrarian giggled."Sorry,just had a sudden urge to stretch my legs."

"Well,that can't be helped,can it?"Opportunist kept his voice nice.He kept it calm and polite,because what the clown wanted was to piss him off,but what Opportunist wanted was to get back on track, so he remained poised,so that he looked as in control as ever.

"Anyways,let's get moving!"Opportunist turned and began to walk off,not even waiting for Contrarian to follow.A second later,Contrarian was at his side and they walked in silence,but this time,Opportunist could feel the other's eyes on him,and he was waiting for whatever trick the clown was about to pull now.

His fingers itched for something to defend himself with.

"So what's your plan for all this?"was what Contrarian eventually said,intrigue heavy in his voice,as if the question had been bugging him nonstop.Opportunist gave him a brief glance,trying to act casual and unbothered as he replied,"What plan?I just want to find the others.I'm sure some of them have a better idea of what happened and what to do now."

He didn't look at the other bird,but he could tell that he didn't believe him,but that was fine.He didn't care if Contrarian,of all voices,believed him.

"I dunno what you said to get Paranoid on your side,but I'm not convinced that you haven't got a trick up your sleeve."Opportunist rolled his eyes."If anyone's got tricks,it's you,clown boy."Contrarian giggled."Yeah but the thing is-my tricks are funny."

'Unnecessary,' would be Opportunist's opinion,but he kept that to himself.

"You though-you always had an ulterior motive,and I could never guess what it was,sometimes."

"Because there never was one."A lie,technically.

Contrarian giggled,then whispered in an exaggerated tone,"I call bullshit."

"Okay,"Opportunist said,stopping in his tracks to give the annoying jester his full attention,"I'm so sorry that there's no annoying Echo for you to piss off anymore,or a proper reason to never do anything right,but I'm actually trying to accomplish something here."

"What's that?"

"Finding the other voices."

"Why?You're too sneaky to not have another reason to do this."

"Not even from the goodness of my heart?"

A harsh laugh."You don't have a heart."

That-actually hurt.But he kept smiling,kept the mask up,because he needed to look in control,so that Jitters could still trust and rely on him,and maybe eventually,the others.But just Jitters was fine now.He didn't care if nobody else trusted him,because he knew that he was doing the right thing,even if nobody else saw that.

This was why he tried to ignore Contrarian at all times.He was impossible to work with.If anything, they should be counterparts.A Contrarian that doesn't care about anything serious,and an Opportunist that will do anything to get what he needs.

Still,he was nothing if not one to improvise.He thought back to how he got on Jitter's good side.He had been on board until his fears got the better of him,and wouldn't comply unless Opportunist had been truly honest with him.

Maybe that was what he needed to do here, because clearly the clown would never trust him if he didn't give him a good enough reason,and although the thought of being vulnerable with Contrarian of all people,made Opportunist want to stick the blade in his own chest,he figured there was a way to go about this and keep his pride.

He tilted his head to the side and asked,"Do you miss Him?"That wiped the smile from his face,and Contrarian chuckled lightly and his feathers puffed up."Yeah,of course I miss the big guy."

"Did you love Him?"Opportunist caught the wince Contrarian made at 'did',but still replied with,"Yeah,I did."Opportunist smiled wide and spread his arms out as if the answer was right in front of them,as he continued,"So you would do anything to keep Him happy and safe?Because that's all any of us wanted-to keep him safe,we all just have different ways of expressing that.Jitters with his chant,you with your jokes.It was all for Him."

He kept up that sleazy smile that no one would trust for a second,almost looking victorious at the end of his speech.It was a truth,but he just wanted it to look like another trick of his.

He nodded at Contrarian,his face blank,probably trying to determine if he was lying or not. Opportunist just kept walking,hearing the clown follow not too long after that.

Good.Now that that was out of the way,they can keep-

"You're really weird,y'know?"

Opportunist almost stumbled in the grass,but managed to keep his footing.He spread his wings out wide as a way to block Contrarian from him, merely giving him a fleeting glance as he went, "Aren't we all?"

Contrarian chuckled,and then said,"Yeah,but I thought you were a flock worse."

Against every power in his body,Opportunist actually laughed at the pun.He tried to disguise it with a cough,but he knew the damage was already done.

Face burning,he spun to face Contrarian as the other gasped,pure delight on his face."That was a laugh!"

"No it wasn't."

"That was a genuine laugh I got out of you!"

Even now,he refused to break,but now it was just for his own dignity.He marched ahead,Contrarian laughing while hot on his heels."You think I'm funny!"Contrarian teased in the singsong voice.

He covered his burning face with his wing as he attempted to sound calm,"Think whatever you want,but we have to find Jitters before he has his third panic attack of the day."

Opportunist didn't know what was wrong.Usually he was better,more guarded than this.Not twenty minutes ago,he had Contrarian wrapped around his finger,but now he was laughing at his jokes?At a god awful pun no less?

He needed to be better.He needed to get a fucking grip and get his mask in order,because that was the only way that could guarantee his-their-safety,that everyone can get together and be happy,and who cares if nobody knew who he really was?That's not Opportunist's job-

"Look out!"

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 1.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

Pending....Pending....

Date: December 21st,2170.

Location: Office,Unit 4,Avatar Department,Human Outpost Biolab,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 10:15 AM.

A long time has passed since I've known about this once alien planet. 4.4 light years away,a world full of life,like a lost paradise,sat idly in silence,away from the death and destruction that has scattered over Earth like a goddamn plague.

The ones before us saw the danger of it all,and yet they turned a blind eye,all because the climate change and the fractures in the atmosphere caused by the heightened levels of carbon dioxide wouldn’t affect them in the long run. They’d be dead anyway by the time it got too serious. So much for doing the right thing.

I wasn’t even born when they discovered Pandora,though until I actually got a grasp of reality and gained consciousness like everybody does at 5 years old,I’ve actually wondered if the so-called “Goldilocks Zone” existed somewhere else. If God smiled upon the universe and gave another planet the privilege of life.

Trust me,I have no idea how I even got here. So much time has passed since I’ve breathed in the polluted air of Earth,but I guess it’s for the benefit of all.

Guess we'll do it like they always do,huh?Start from the beginning of it all.

Pending...Pending...

Date: January 26th,2170

Location: Home,New York,USA, Earth.

Time: 12:43 PM.

Nobody ever thought that a girl like me would end up the head leader of the Avatar Department,or an important person in the Resistance. And I gotta say,I never quite imagined myself becoming this. I dreamt of stages full of fans,as my fingers gave birth to heart-shattering riffs. Of poetry books released under my very own name,painting the pages with complicated feelings and sensations,all of a broken and imperfect human heart. Of having my own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame,making my country proud as a well known actress overseas. Though all those dreams were scattered away,like a feather in the wind,the moment I decided to do what any other scared yet artistically talented person who wants to make her parents proud does.

I got into STEM. Mechanical and Biological Engineering.

And between the sleepless nights of studying,drowning myself in math equations and lab reports,I got a one-way ticket to Pandora in my first year of college,from the one and only Parker Selfridge. Head administrator of the RDA’s operation in Pandora. I can still feel the anxiety lingering on my tongue. They never came with internships for first years,so what was he here for?

He came in to give out 5 internships at my college,yet he left with a new potential piece for this chess game. Me. All thanks to a question he asked that I knew the answer of. And to think I almost didn't say the answer because I thought everyone knew it,but as it turns out,only I did. I sat in the hallway with my friends,staring dumbfoundedly at the bussiness card he gave me.

Only back then,the RDA were treated as heroes,important people who made way for a better life. For an undead Earth. The propaganda was all enough to trick a little mind like mine,though it’s funny how I always thought I was a step ahead of everyone. Life on Earth as I remember it was,to say the least…grey.

The cities were gray. The people were gray. The sky was…well,grey. And between spending the rest of my life here,with my dreams crumbling before my very own eyes,and going out there to actually fight for a new home for humanity,you can guess why I chose the latter.

Nothing out of the ordinary was happening for me here anyway. Gorgeous girl,great personality,they all said,but nobody ever settled. Nobody ever stopped in their tracks to take in the pure and total beauty of the chaos that is me,so I never had a serious partner before. And…I guess I was also excited to see if the stories are true.

How an actual human betrayed his own race for a…Na’vi tribe princess?At least that’s how they put it,and I don’t even want to mention how embarrassing it was for the RDA to come back to Earth with their tails between their legs back in 2154. No unobtanium. No money. No Avatars. No nothing. I was three when that happened,and I remember playing with my cousins with our cardboard toys as our parents watched the TV in confusion and…disappointment,so you can guess why they made Jake Sully seem like an actual demon,and the death of a colonel was a pretty big deal,after all.

Thing is,the RDA only shows you the pearl in their hands,and not the mouth getting ready to swallow you whole. And now I know why they were so understaffed. That total failure after 2154 made people lose trust in the RDA over the years. But to me?

The decision came easily. I needed something new

What didn’t,though,was the pure work I’d have to do in just 6 months. Learning the language of the natives,the Na’vi. Getting to understand the differences between our anatomy and theirs. The fauna and flora. The tribes. The ecosystems. And…of course,Eywa herself,though I learned that from Dr. Grace Augustine’s botany books,not from the RDA’s training program. I honestly don’t know what Selfridge saw in me,when I know I have friends better in college than me,but I better not question it too much.

I tried telling myself that as soon as I got in cryo,it wouldn’t be a goodbye,rather a…see you later. Looking back at it now,I think it was just wishful thinking. For now,I was me,the girl nobody ever really took seriously. Just another face in a sea of others. Next time I wake up,I’d have to work in an entire department with people twice my age.

——————————————————————

The cryo-sleep thaw was a nightmare and a miracle all at once. My lungs burned as they dragged in air for the first time in six years, my throat raw and dry, every breath tasting metallic. My joints ached as if I’d aged a century.

“Subject revived.” the sterile voice of the AI announced, flat and emotionless. I tried sitting up, only to slump back down against the cryo pod’s restraints. My body wasn’t mine yet—not entirely.

“You’ll feel like shit for a while,” said a woman in a crisp lab coat, her voice muffled as she checked my vitals. “Side effects of long-term cryo. It’ll pass. Welcome to the ISV Valkyrie, and congrats on making it to Pandora.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Pandora.

The next few hours were a blur of debriefings and medical checkups. My body eventually began to cooperate, but my mind lagged behind. I shuffled through endless corridors with other groggy personnel, each of us too stunned to speak. We were like ghosts wandering through a ship that pulsed with life—technicians barking orders, holograms buzzing with real-time scans of the moon’s surface, the low hum of engines preparing for atmospheric descent.

When the ship finally broke through Pandora’s atmosphere, I felt it in my chest. The vibrations reverberated through every bolt, every panel, and through me. The world outside the viewport was alive. The dense, green forests sprawled endlessly beneath the floating Hallelujah Mountains, their bases wreathed in ethereal clouds. The sky shifted from pink to blue in the blink of an eye, its colors alien yet breathtakingly familiar.

For a moment, the hum of engines and the chatter of voices faded away. It was just me and the sight of this strange, beautiful moon—a place that could have been paradise if we weren’t here to ruin it.

The ship landed with a jarring shudder, and the real work began.

——————————————————————

Adjusting to life on Pandora was like learning to breathe all over again. Everything about this place demanded respect—the gravity was lighter, the air richer, and the biology... unfathomable. Days blurred into weeks as I threw myself into the work at the Avatar Department.

My mornings began with syncing sessions in the link pods, my mind slipping into my Avatar body like stepping into a cold pool. It wasn’t seamless—at first, every movement felt foreign. I stumbled through training exercises, my longer legs and stronger muscles betraying me at every turn. But slowly, the body became mine.

Afternoons were spent reading over files on Na’vi biology, studying their neural networks and learning their language. The words felt clumsy on my tongue, but I persisted. When I wasn’t in the lab or out on field assignments to observe Pandora’s ecosystems, I was immersed in RDA briefings.

That’s where I first heard his name again.

Jake Sully.

The briefings spoke of him like a ghost, a legend who had long since passed into myth. But here, his name was a warning.

“Resistance forces led by Sully attacked the rail line near Sector 7 again,” one of the military officers growled during lunch at the canteen. “Three shipments of amp suits lost. That bastard and his little insurgents are crippling our operations.”

The room buzzed with tension as reports of attacks piled up. Sabotaged trains, stolen supplies, and destroyed equipment—it was chaos. To the RDA, Sully wasn’t just a traitor. He was the personification of everything standing in the way of their plans.

But the more I learned, the more conflicted I felt. The propaganda painted him as a terrorist, a man who had betrayed his own kind for a primitive cause. But every whisper I caught from the scientists who had been here longer told a different story.

“Maybe Sully isn’t the villain they make him out to be,” I muttered to Dr. Ellison one evening as we worked late in the lab.

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable as he pointed towards a CCTV with his head,as if to say "Shut up. They're listening."

"That’s dangerous talk,you know. Keep your head down. Do your work. They don't like questions.”

I nodded, but the seed of doubt had already taken root.

——————————————————————

The attacks continued, each one more brazen than the last. The RDA ramped up their operations in response, sending more troops and machinery into the wilds of Pandora. But for every move they made, the Resistance seemed to be one step ahead.

And then there was the tension between the people I worked with. Some were diehard loyalists, determined to see the mission succeed no matter the cost. Others—mostly the scientists—spoke in hushed tones about the beauty of the Na’vi culture, the interconnectedness of the flora and fauna, and the destruction we were bringing to this world.

I kept my head down, just as Ellison had warned. But at night, as I lay in my bunk staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder: which side of history would I be on?

Pandora had a way of getting under your skin. The longer I stayed, the more I realized it wasn’t just a place. It was a mirror, reflecting humanity’s best and worst instincts back at us. And somewhere in the middle of it all was me—a girl who had come here for a fresh start, only to find herself caught in a war she didn’t fully understand.

The attacks became more than background noise; they became a constant undercurrent to life on Pandora. At first, they were just distant explosions, reports in the briefing room, or muttered curses from the military personnel in the mess hall. But over time, the Resistance started to feel like a presence, a shadow that loomed over everything the RDA tried to accomplish.

Jake Sully wasn’t just a name anymore—he was a force of nature.

The first time I felt the Resistance's impact directly was during a supply run. It was supposed to be routine—a quick trip to outpost Beta-5 to deliver Avatar-linked monitoring equipment. I was tagging along as part of my training, mostly to observe.

But the Resistance didn’t care about schedules or safety zones.

The attack was fast and chaotic. One moment, the AMP suits ahead of us were trudging through the dense forest, their movements mechanical and predictable. The next, arrows rained down from the trees, followed by explosions that sent the towering machines toppling like broken toys.

The ambush hit like a storm—sudden, violent, and unstoppable.

One moment, I was riding in the back of the supply truck, surrounded by crates of equipment and two guards sharing a nervous laugh. The next, the forest erupted in chaos.

The first explosion flipped the lead AMP suit, its towering frame crashing to the ground with a deafening roar. The convoy came to an abrupt halt as arrows rained down from the trees, their sharp points glinting like falling stars.

“Get down!” someone yelled.

I hit the truck bed hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me. My mask rattled against the metal floor as I scrambled for cover behind a crate. The world around me dissolved into a cacophony of gunfire, shouting, and the eerie war cries of the Na’vi.

The guards fired blindly into the trees, their exo-packs hissing as they struggled to maintain their aim under the pressure. I peeked over the edge of the crate just in time to see one of the AMP suits stagger, an arrow embedded in its cockpit.

Panic set in. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst. I wasn’t a soldier. I wasn’t trained for this. My human body was fragile here—one wrong move, and I’d be dead.

I clutched the sidearm they’d insisted I carry, though my hands were shaking too much to use it. What was I even doing here? This wasn’t supposed to be my fight.

A shadow passed overhead. My breath hitched as I looked up to see a Na’vi warrior leaping from a tree, his bow drawn, his movements impossibly fluid. He landed on the roof of the truck with barely a sound, his golden eyes scanning the scene below.

And then, those eyes locked onto me.

——————————————————————

For a moment, the chaos of the ambush melted away, leaving only silence between us.

He stood above me, perched on the edge of the truck’s roof, silhouetted against the glowing forest. His figure was tall and commanding, every line of his body taut with a warrior’s grace. The flickering bioluminescence of the nearby trees played off his skin, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across his lean, muscular frame.

His face was angular and strong, the high cheekbones and sharp jawline unmistakably Na’vi, yet there was something softer in his expression. His golden eyes, large and luminous, fixed on me with an intensity that felt like a physical force. They weren’t filled with rage or cruelty but something far more unnerving—calculated curiosity, as though he were trying to read my soul in that single moment.

The streaks of blue war paint decorating his face didn’t fully mask the smooth, rich azure of his skin, which gleamed faintly under the pale light of Pandora’s twin moons. His braids, adorned with small beads and feathers, swayed gently with each subtle movement, a testament to the culture he carried with him like armor.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that struck me—it was his presence.

He radiated confidence, a quiet power that demanded attention without arrogance. It was the kind of aura that made the world around him seem smaller, less significant. The chaos raging around us felt like a distant hum compared to the weight of his gaze.

And yet, beneath that commanding presence, there was something deeper—an unmistakable grief, perhaps, or a burden that someone so young should never have to carry. It was in the set of his shoulders, the faint downturn of his mouth, and the way his hands gripped the bow with both precision and purpose.

“Drop it,” he said, his voice deep and steady, but with a softness that caught me off guard.

The words hit me like a command, though they weren’t barked or shouted. It was the tone of someone who expected to be obeyed—not out of fear, but respect.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. The sidearm in my trembling hands felt heavier than it should, as if the very act of holding it was a betrayal. His gaze flicked to the weapon, then back to me, and I realized with a jolt that he wasn’t looking at me like an enemy. He was looking at me like a question.

“You are… different,” he said, tilting his head slightly, the movement as fluid and deliberate as everything else about him. His accent curled around the words, each syllable infused with the lyrical cadence of his native tongue.

I wanted to speak, to ask him what he meant, but my throat felt dry, my voice lost in the weight of the moment.

He crouched slightly, lowering himself onto one knee so we were nearly at eye level. Even then, his presence dwarfed mine. Up close, the details became sharper—the faint patterns of his skin, the slight twitch of his ears as they picked up the sounds of the battle behind him, the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“You do not fight,” he observed, the faintest hint of curiosity threading through his words. His eyes lingered on mine, their golden glow unwavering. “And you… fear.”

It wasn’t an accusation. It was a statement of fact, delivered with neither judgment nor malice.

His hand shifted slightly, and I flinched, but he didn’t reach for me. Instead, he pointed at the weapon still lying on the ground between us.

The Na’vi reacted instantly. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet with startling gentleness.

“You do not belong here,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Run.”

“What—”

“Go!”

He released me and darted back into the fray, moving with the grace of a predator and the determination of someone who had everything to lose.

I didn’t run. Not immediately. Instead, I crouched behind the truck, my legs trembling as I watched the battle unfold.

He moved like the forest itself, blending into the chaos with a skill that seemed almost supernatural. He wasn’t just fighting—he was leading. The other Na’vi warriors followed his signals, their coordinated strikes overwhelming the RDA forces.

For every bullet fired, they had an arrow. For every shout of anger, they answered with a battle cry that sent chills down my spine.

And yet, amidst the violence, there was something strangely... noble about them. They didn’t kill indiscriminately. They targeted the machines, the vehicles, the weapons. It was as if they were trying to make a point rather than simply annihilate us.

When the ambush finally ended, the Resistance had melted back into the forest, leaving behind a convoy in ruins. Smoke rose from the wreckage, and the air was thick with the smell of burning fuel.

I stumbled out from behind the truck, my legs barely holding me up. Around me, the survivors were regrouping, their faces pale and shell-shocked.

“Medic!” someone called, dragging a wounded soldier from the wreckage.

But I couldn’t move. My mind was stuck on him—the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d spared me when he could have easily ended my life.

“You do not belong here,” he’d said.

The words echoed in my head as I stared at the destruction around me. For the first time, I began to wonder if he was right.

[mysteriouspersonrambles]

Ok I’ve been a little busy but wanted to get this out so here’s the basic line up and a small rundown of the characters

It’s going to be under the cut because man this list is crazy long

Jon- Jack Skellington

This is kinda obvious they are both the MC’s of their own story. But more than that, they both have that untapped curiosity and need to know. I mean Jaco had a whole lab set up in the movie. It could also tie back to Jon with his whole “unrelating need for knowledge and distain for boredom” that he talked about having as a child. In this AU I imagine he didn’t grow out of it quite as much as he did in TMA. Although I would still argue that he doesn’t like being bored in TMA I mean while he’s supposed to be “lying low” he still goes out several times to interview people. He also still has some eye magic things like forcing people to tell him things and going all ceaseless watch. But it’s more magic than fear god and I think eyes are a pretty Halloweeny thing.

Martin- Sally

Listen I’m a Jmart girly all the way and I think he fits her storyline so well. He has her cleverness and ingenuity and I can so see him brewing up different poison soups, it’s just like tea. I can’t remember if it’s a cannon or fannon fact that he knits but I think that goes nicely with the whole seamstress thing sally has. I can’t also see him using the detachable limbs thing a lot more to his advantage. Also I think that both him and Sally are mischaracterized to softer versions of themselves and are way more devious than people first think. I would also change his background a bit so his mom is Doctor Finkelstein, but like she is mad at him for his help but still needs it. It’s complicated and I’ll got over it more in her section. But Martin is a complicated guy with his fair share of mommy issues but a good hear and is way smarter than people give him credit for.

Sasha- The Mayor

Sasha has a lot of big changes to her story. First off she is a very competent mayor working more with Jon kinda like a business partner than blind follower. She runs all of the day to day events and basics of running the town. She does all the business and Jon does Halloween essentially. She likes her job and is very good at what she does, and unlike the NMBC mayor she is pretty much the leader of Halloween town. Sasha’s other face the one she flips to is actually Not-Sasha. She looks and acts completely different but everyone still treats her like the same person. It’s a running gag that Non-Sasha looks a little different every time Sasha flips between faces but nobody ever says anything

Daisy- Zero

Yes I know I’m jumping out of order but it will make sense soon. Daisy and Zero was one part actually story stuff and other parts i thought it would be funny. In terms of story she acts like her season 4 self. She’s Jon’s best friend ever since he he found her as a wandering sprit, vicious and more wolf than woman. Think season 5 daisy but if Jon was actually able to save her. Alongside the help of Daisy’s old partner Jon used whatever Halloween magic he has to pull Daisy’s humanity back to the surface. Im thinking they got stuck in the coffin again, I think that would be pretty funny and very fitting. Anyway Daisy is a werewolf shapeshifting spirit, think of her wolf form as a more muscular Zero. Her nose glows in her human form too :). She’s essentially who Jon confides in and calls him and idiot but then tries to help. She has more of a role than Zero did in the film since she can speak. Daisy was also not very impressed at being the one to lead the sleigh but she did it anyway because Jon’s her best friend and she loves him.

Ok so Tim, Melanie and Basira are going to be grouped together because they are the trick or treaters.

In this case the story was changed a lot so the. Characters were picked not really for personality or relations. But more for continuity so they are all more or less themselves just kinda in Halloween town

Tim- Lock

Tim looks good in Red let’s be for real. He would also make the “devilish good looks” jokes you know he would

Melanie- Shock

Melanie gives off the vibes of someone who would dabble in Wicca, like she definitely owns tarot cards. And besides “ the blind witch” is metal as hell and I think she would appreciate it.

Basira- Barrel

I’m not sure what exactly Barrel is but the bones thing he has going on creates a nice tie back to Jack. Which in turn creates a connection between Jon and Basira which could tie back to the two of them saving Daisy. Basira also sees things for what they are, a sort of “bare bones” logic if you would.

Anyway so the reason the 3 of them are listed together is because in this AU they do still work for Oogie Boogie but it’s not consensual. They are all tied to him via a contract and are forced to do his bidding. Tho they often half ass it as a way to get back at him. Melanie is the one to figure out how to leave and that’s when she blinds herself to get out. I’ll go over the implications of this and what it does later in another post.

On to the villain: if you think the whole contract thing sounded familiar you’d be right

Elias Bouchard- Oogie Boogie

He’s mean he’s green, and Elias would love having a gambling aesthetic let’s not kid ourselves. Elias is also the main character villain of TMA and I think it’s fitting that he also gets the main villain role here as well. I imagine his lair to be less giant roulette table and more bureaucratic mansion. Essentially he built his own Magnus institute in the outskirts of town and people can come and test their luck. More of a poker style table than a role of the dice. He acts all fair but instead of eating people he traps their souls in contracts. He is also made of eyeballs instead of bugs and the ones in his head are called Jonah Magnus.

Peter Lukas- Santa

Yes yes I know what this implies but it’s funny. Also I didn’t know any TMA character that would properly fit this role so why not give it to the guy who probably looks like him. I also think Christmas is partially a conduit of The Lonely. I mean what’s lonelier than spending Christmas by yourself. I don’t even celebrate Christmas and I do feel a little left out sometimes hearing how everyone gets together with the their family and I’m not. What I’m trying to say is Christmas makes a lot of people lonely and I can see the Lukas’ taking advantage of that. It’s also really funny to imagine an Oogie Santa divorce going on. Like I’ll give them more scenes because I can imagine the tension and it’s so funny.

Others 

Martin’s mother- Doctor Finkelstein

This one is more due to character circumstances but I think it’s a very complex dynamic. We know from TMA that Martin’s mother hated the fact that he had to take care of her and I wanted to play on that here. In this world she made Martin this the help of a lab assistant who then ran off after an accident leaving her sick and mostly alone ( yes I know sally has a different backstory in long live the pumpkin queen but I haven’t read the book so I’m sticking with just the movie cannon and my own thoughts). She needs Martins help with taking care of herself mostly but she hates him for it. Yelling and belittling him. But she also knows that without him she will probably die so she holds on to Martin tight. Getting mad when he runs off, guilt tripping him into coming back. She eventually does make a new assistant but Martin cuts off all contact with her. He makes a choice for himself and stands up to her and leaves.

Georgie- human?

Georgie was literally the hardest character to come up with because there is no good character to match her with that is majorly important to the plot but Georgie is a big character in TMA so she had to be here. So I came up with the idea of her being human paranormal investigator ( like in TMA except her podcast is her going out to explore places) and winding up in Halloween town. There is a side plot where she meets up with Melanie and helps her escape Elias’ contract. She has no fear due to the transference between worlds and as such is welcomed into Halloween Town. Although she finds herself starting to change and she isn’t sure if she’s still completely human.

All the other denizens are background TMA characters, or other holiday rulers like Nikola as the Easter bunny ( that one wasn’t a mistake capturing her, Tim just wanted a bit of revenge because she stole his brother. Danny isn’t dead just an egg painter now.) I’ll assign more people later

Since it’s getting into the holiday season I’m thinking about my Nightmare Before Christmas TMA au.

I’ve got nothing but a head full of ideas and I don’t know if anybody want to hear about it

But it’s going to be in the back of my mind for most of December

[cracklinhaze]

pov you open the door tonight and it's the ms paint twins. give them all your candy.

[justaz]

when merlin asks arthur for things, the king is usually inclined to give him what he wants but it is not always guaranteed such as when his emotions cloud his judgement. but merlin’s surefire way of getting arthur to give in? he steps into his space, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says “arthur, please” and he folds like a house of cards.

[shepscapades]

Seriously, thank you so much everyone for the trick or treats, Happy Halloweens, Boops, and well wishes!!! <3

I edited out all of the request parts of the messages to fit everything in, but It's good to know what everyone's interested in ^w^ (>:3)

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

The last thing Butch wants right now is to become one of those annoying folks who complain and gripe to the bartender about their troubles, especially if this fella was actually set on letting him buy him a drink sometime after work. It’s for this reason that after he grows quiet and Blondie begins to speak up that he’s genuinely taken aback by his words.

While he could safely assume he knew where the man stood on the matter considering the way he shrugged Darlene off so quick she didn’t have the chance to even butter him up, he doesn’t expect him to voice those thoughts or to validate how he might be feeling deep down, beyond the guilt for not being more thankful.

The rockstar is staring up at the man with large blue eyes now, remaining silent as he takes his words in and digests them. Everything he said was rather blunt, each word had meaning, and even more so his tone suggested he felt very strongly about this particular kind of thing. He can’t exactly place why and… does it really matter? Blondie was making him feel like he wasn’t crazy for having his own doubts.

Profit. That’s exactly where it felt his value lied, try as might to suppress the feeling. It’s different having someone tell him what he suspects is going on rather than gawking at him in surprise for being unappreciative of his fame. What does he even say in response? And if there was anything to say, his brain was still catching up, still turning those words over in his head and It’s for this reason that he kind of panics and he resorts to the cherry stem trick for an easy distraction from such a serious topic and he’s thoroughly amused by the reaction he earns himself.

He plucks the stem from his tongue with a lopsided smile and cackles at Blondie’s response. Gosh, he sure was cute painted all red like that, from ear to ear no less!

“Bahahah!” The cowboy busts out into laughter, “Why—did it work on ya?” He quips with a smirk before flicking the cherry stem into the trash can behind the bar table with surprising accuracy. “…Nah, I ain’t busted that ol’ trick out in a long time, heh… not since I used t’pick cherries from a tree on my Pa’s farm, an’ that was—years ‘go….so consider yerself special, I guess.” A wink follows his words, and as much as he wants to keep it all lighthearted, he he feels something needs to be said. Like he needs to address the others willingness to tell him like it is.

He falls silent again as he drinks down some more of his beverage and when he gets it all down, that’s when he’s ready to speak again.

“Ah…mm. I, ah… ‘ppreciate everythin’ y’said jus’ then… y’ain’t gotta make me feel better or nothin. That ain’t yer job. I… don’t wanna talk yer ear off ‘bout it all, but uh. Y’pretty much hit th’ nail on th’ head.“ his eyes have long dropped to his glass by now, him sliding it closer to himself. “Can I be honest with ya..? This’s, uh… still pretty new t’me. Can’t say I s’pected my music t’take me anywhere… my Pa sure didn’t.” A small laugh escapes him. “It’s… somethin’ t’learn t’adjust to fer sure, but… m’jus’ wonderin’ when I’ll feel like…” A lazy shoulder shrug. “I dunno, like I’m s’posed t’be here? S’easy t’act like I b’long but. Tch. Hell, a worked on a farm b’fore all this. Can’t say I’m a fan’f th’ pampered lifestyle as nice’s it can be sometimes. They act like some’f us’ll break f’we get too rowdy an—man, it drives me up th’ wall t’have eyes on me all th’ damn time. S’like… like bein’ treated like a kid again.” He finally voices some of his own grievances but quickly grows embarrassed by all he’s shared.

“U-Uh, y’got one helluva’n eye fer sleazebags. H-How d’ya know? I mean… when Darlene first ‘pproached me, it—heh—it felt nice hearin’ ‘er say all that.” Her opener, ‘Has anyone ever told you that you have a face for the stage?’, he recalls her saying the same thing to him when she had found him at a local event back in his home town. The excitement he felt when she talked up his talent, made him feel special, made him feel like he could have anything he wanted if he had someone representing him all the while. Like she could make it all happen. There was… nothing left on that farm for him anyway, not since his Ma had passed a few years prior to being noticed by the agent.

Artair's mouth thins as he talks but the expression he wears is one of sympathy. Wordlessly, he tops off the glass with more rye whiskey. He returns to leaning on the counter, watching Butch closely.

"Forgive me. Might be oversteppin'. But regardless what she's done fer ya, y've every right t'complain when someone does y'dirty." Artair clicks his tongue. "I know that sort. See 'em more'n enough round here. Some 'r fine enough, but some of 'em..... yer a paycheck t'em. A profit. An' that ain't nothin' t'warrant loyalty."

He sighs, before leaning down to look at him level. "I listen t'yer music. Y'got here because y'got the spark. She might've found ya, but y've probably paid her back an' then some, 'cause yer good at what y'do."

There's a brief pause, And Artair's eyes drop from Butch entirely. "Ah....jus' sayin'. Sometimes y'gotta consider what's best fer ya. Management'll always make y'feel y'owe 'em, 'cause they want y'stickin' 'round. But they ain't t'one writin' yer songs or singin' on t'stage. An' if they're treatin' ya wrong, well... up an' comer like yerself? Anyone'd be chompin' t' bit t' represent ya. Could be yer lucky. But could be if y'think y'are, she can drop last minute changes on ya and yammer yer ear off."

He's said too much, far too much, and he pulls back further, brushing back his hair. He just--- couldn't stand the idea of someone treating the outlaw-- Butch, a very real person, like that. He'd done anything he'd ever been asked until there was just none of him left to give, and it was never enough. He was never enough. Maybe this Darlene was different, but there was an insidious nature in the subtle build of expectations from a foundation of 'owing' someone. It was all too easy to assume if you just did enough, you'd be good enough. But you never would be.

But then Butch offers a trick, and he---- loses any sense of gravity or seriousness. His eyes flick between the stem and Butch's face, his eyes, and that stem and tongue a second time, longer. The longer he thinks about it, the more warm under the collar he gets, and he tugs at one of the lapels of his button-up to adjust it. "Yer---...... yer tongue's very skilled." He says it in a calm tone, but even just saying it has the heat dialed up several notches, even his ears managing to catch color. "D'ya try an' impress all t'bartenders wit' that kinda trick, Mr. Outlaw?"

[syndrossi]

October Trick or Treat Fill #11: Daemon overhears an upsetting song

There were some great prompts for mad!Daemon and I...ended up taking little pieces from a few. (I started with "Daemon punches Cole" but ultimately stopped because we might get there at some point in the main story.)

So at long last, here are 3.6K words of Daemon experiencing all the emotions, which definitely include anger.

x~x~x

“Why is this so difficult?” Daemon snarled as they stepped back into the busy street.

“Because you are making it difficult,” Laenor said. “Why did you ask me along if you refuse to heed my advice?”

That was six shops along the Street of Kings visited, none of them offering anything remotely worth gifting to his sons. He had only given them two years worth of name day gifts, and each time it grew more difficult to decide upon a worthy one.

He had hoped that Laenor might have insight to offer, but his sons were years younger, while Daemon’s sons often seemed older than their own years. The wooden ships he had gifted Jon had seen some limited use when their cousins visited, but otherwise collected dust on the shelf. He doubted they would show any more interest in wooden knights or horses.

“It must be perfect,” Daemon said, frustration rising.

When his sons’ belongings had arrived from the Gates of the Moon, and Rhaegar had excitedly reached for his harp, Daemon had been met with the harsh realization he still did not know half of the things his sons were interested in. And when he had learned that Jon’s short sword and Rhaegar’s harp had been gifts from an unnamed “benefactor,” he had needed to excuse himself for a rare visit to the yard, where he had hacked a target to pieces with Dark Sister.

Realizing that Otto Hightower had known his sons’ preferences better than he, to have sent the perfect gifts, had filled him with fury at first, but when his energy had finally been spent in the yard, it had turned to hollow grief. I should know these things. I should know their favorite color, what foods they loved as infants, what joys they clung to for comfort in that joyless place.

That Jon had been forced to seek solace in weapons, in bashing training targets to gain some sense of control with he and his brother at Allard Royce’s mercy, while Rhaegar had turned to song to soothe their pain—

Daemon spun away from Laenor, breath hissing through clenched teeth as he fought to master his fury when every part of him screamed with the impulse to burn, to destroy.

“I know where we can go!” Laenor said, voice tight with the forced cheer Daemon had heard him use before to stave off one of Joff’s toddler meltdowns. His cousin raised his arms, palms flat, in a placating gesture when Daemon turned, ready to snap at him.

He exhaled then. Laenor was not the enemy. The man he wished to burn was in the Vale. “Where?”

“Children like secrets, hidden things. Like Jon’s sheath, the one you said Rhaegar gave him.”

That was true, though it set his chest to burning once more at the reminder of another enemy who still drew breath. Rhaegar’s first gift had been taken from Jon the night of their attempted escape, when Crayne had broken bones and threatened him with death, and discarded. His younger son had asked for aid in having a new one made for Jon, who had been moved almost to tears at the gift.

“What do you have in mind?”

“There is a shop nearer to River Row that sells such things. Jeweled boxes with false walls where they can keep their treasures, pouches with hidden pockets that can hide letters or other small things. Oh! There were some fetching brooches and hairpins that conceal tiny knives.”

His sons did enjoy both intrigues and martial pursuits. And although both had their bronze knives now, Rhaegar wore his openly rather than concealed. He might enjoy the novelty of a weapon hidden within a hairpin. It went without saying that Jon would gladly welcome any excuse to be further armed. He had already started to pester Daemon about when they would be considered old enough to wear a sword at their side.

“That sounds promising,” he admitted, earning a smile in response.

The shop in question was so close to the River Row as to nearly be in it, just barely skirting the edge of the sphere of affluence that radiated outward from the base of Aegon’s Hills, where the wealthiest of the city dwelled. The man who greeted them seemed to be a jeweler by trade, but there were enough works of leather that Daemon assumed he had a partner who specialized in such.

It had all that Laenor had described and more, and the jeweler, upon recognizing that he had royal visitors, brought out some richer pieces for their perusal. There was a beautiful pin of garnet and gold, fashioned into the shape of a red dragon that Daemon was immediately drawn to, the head rearing back and wings splayed wide, as though preparing to breathe dragonflame.

It had considerable heft to it, the pin itself wide and tapering to a point, to serve as a sheath for the hidden blade. The hilt and guard were hidden behind the dragon’s head and wings, secured in place to a pair of hooks by leather straps on either side of the guard that could be worked free.

The dagger could hardly be called that, its delicate hilt barely long enough to pinch between his thumb and forefinger, and the blade itself thin, tapering to a needle’s point. But it could stab a man’s flesh, should the need arise, and bleed him capably enough if aimed somewhere vulnerable.

“Can you make two more in this style?” Daemon asked, running his finger over the jewels that formed the scales. “One of sapphire on silver, and one of onyx on bronze?”

Jon did not often wear his hair styled into braids, but he might consider it with a Shadow hairpin that could transform into a tiny blade. The bronze would stand out against his dark hair, just as the blue of the sapphire would in Rhaegar’s light hair.

“For your sons?” The jeweler’s smile faltered for a moment at Daemon’s suspicious frown. “Tales of their hatchlings have spread throughout the city! It would be my honor to fashion pins in their likeness. Would my prince prefer the pins without a blade?”

“No,” Daemon said. He tested the red dragon’s blade with his thumb, which proved acceptably sharp. “It should be just like this one.”

“I can have it completed within a moon, if that is acceptable,” the man said with a bow. “Should I set aside the red dragon pin for when they are complete, or would my prince like to take it with him today?”

Daemon looked at the hairpin, heavy in his hand, and hesitated. He had not planned on seeking any trinkets for himself, but the red of the scales combined with the warm yellow of the dragon’s topaz eyes were too alike Caraxes not to be tempted.

“Here,” Laenor offered, taking the pin from his hand.

He wove the pin through one of Daemon’s side braids, then through the center braid. With just the pin, it would not have been especially stable, but the wings themselves extended into the teeth of a comb, allowing the decorative top piece to be partially secured in place. Daemon turned his head from side to side, then gave a small hop, testing its hold. It would be better served by some center braid knot, with the pin and comb akilter above it, but he could seek suggestions from Rhaenyra when she finally returned.

“It is very fetching,” Laenor said.

“Set it aside,” he said. One for each of us. It would not do to spoil the surprise early by revealing his own.

He added a pair of belt pouches with secret compartments to his purchase, and even took Laenor’s final suggestion, dictating a design for a pair of jeweled boxes with a clever mechanism for triggering the false bottom to spring up when pressed, revealing the hidden space below.

It was not an inexpensive trip, but Daemon had spent little of his royal allowance over his time in the Stepstones. He looked forward to someday bringing the twins with him to the shop, certain they would find other trinkets to their liking within. Once the matters of Volantis and the Stepstones are settled.

They were near enough to a woodworker’s shop that Daemon agreed to one more stop. Laenor had, for once, been inspired by his gift choices and wanted to find some wooden ships for Jace and Luke.

“He also carved their wooden dragons,” Laenor said. “If you’d like any for the twins. His Caraxes was quite a good likeness.”

As they turned onto the next street, they spied a small crowd gathered around a singer who was plucking his lute as he sang a melody Daemon hadn’t heard before, too distant yet to make out the words themselves. They had taken no more than a few steps when Laenor turned abruptly.

“I did not take note of the hour,” he said. “We should return to the holdfast. I can stop by another time.”

The swiftness of his speech spoke to a sudden agitation, and Daemon regarded him with suspicion, not moving to follow. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Laenor said, shoulders slumping after a few seconds of Daemon’s unblinking stare. “I—there is someone I wish to avoid.”

Although his words held the ring of a lie, his gaze did stray toward the singer. Daemon squinted through the crowd to catch a better glimpse of the man. Short, with short brown hair and a plain face. Far from his cousin’s usual type, which was lean, handsome, well-muscled and preferably knighted. And he could think of no other reason Laenor would wish to avoid some singer of common origin.

“Why—?”

“I can explain later.” Laenor grabbed his arm. “Come.”

Daemon easily twisted his arm free, and Laenor’s final protests trailed off as he approached the crowd gathered around the singer. The song was flowery tripe about a pair of Targaryen princes, with two entire verses devoted to their beauty. Such hyperbole was not uncommon in songs about their house.

The song turned slightly ribald then, switching to the lascivious Free Cities of Lys and Myr, whose loveliest slaves could not compare in a verse where their shortcomings were enumerated, with heavy innuendo. A few stretches of broken and butchered Valyrian were sprinkled into the verses, presumably to emphasize the foreign nature of the Free Cities, as the owners of the richest pillow houses conspired to steal away the “hidden jewels of the Iron Throne.”

“You see?” Laenor hissed at him. “It is nothing. We should return.”

Daemon turned to follow, willing to concede just this once, only to halt as the singer moved on to the details of plot, where the “jealous witch of Runestone” struck a bargain with the Lysene slavers.

My sons. Daemon spun back to the singer, too stunned for a moment to hear much of the next verse. It is about my sons.

A purse of fifty-thousand dragons was offered and accepted, and the young twins—fair and dewy-eyed in their innocence—escorted south to Gulltown by a man named Crayne, where the slaver ships awaited. Much was made of his sons’ helplessness, and the slavers’ delight when inspecting their find.

It did not matter that Daemon and Caraxes were made the heroes of the tale, swooping in for a daring, last-minute rescue. Hearing his sons spoken of thus, as objects of desire, as fodder for a Lysene pillow house, brought his blood to a roar in his ears.

“Daemon—” Laenor whispered, seizing his arm once more to halt him from drawing Dark Sister.

“My sons are eight,” Daemon hissed, mind shying away from the knowledge that the pillow houses across the Narrow Sea were notorious for training their pleasure slaves young.

“It is only a song,” Laenor said, straining with both arms now to hold him back. “Nothing happens to them, even in song.”

Laenor’s caution was no match for his fury. Daemon dragged him several steps before his cousin released him at last, and the crowd parted around him as their eyes fell upon his hair, then his unsheathed sword. The singer spotted him last, glancing up from where he had stooped to pick up his earnings, and Daemon lifted him in a single motion, shoving him back into the wall, bringing Dark Sister’s blade to rest just below his jaw.

The man stared back, terrified recognition in his eyes. “My prince. I—”

“Is that song of your creation?” Daemon demanded, the heat of his blood growing with every second he dwelled upon its ugly lyrics.

“No!” the singer gasped, desperately angling his jaw upward to put space between it and Dark Sister’s edge. “There was a singer in Flea Bottom, I learned it from him! And he had learned it from another.”

Daemon searched his gaze for signs of a lie, finding mostly terror, and he turned his head aside, spitting the vilest curses he knew in Valyrian. It has spread then. “What is it called?”

The man swallowed, clearly reluctant to answer. “‘The Pillow Princes.’ I did not name it!”

Laenor had made his way through the crowd after Daemon and put a hand on his shoulder. “Daemon.”

Daemon’s arm strained with the effort of not opening the singer’s throat to spill upon the cobblestone. “If you wish to keep your tongue, then you will not sing it again. And you will spread my warning to others who might do the same.”

The man gave the barest of nods, mindful of the blade. “Yes, my prince, of course! I will spread your words far and wide!”

Daemon lowered his sword, then his elbow, which had pinned the singer in place. The man bowed once, twice, even lower, and stumbled over his lute as he backed away, feet jarring several of the coins that had been tossed his way, which he now ignored to stumble further, not daring to turn his back until he was fully out of view.

When Daemon looked behind, he found that the crowd had dispersed entirely, as though fearful of receiving similar treatment for having listened to the song.

If it has made it through the city, it is only a matter of time until it finds its way into the Red Keep. The thought of his sons hearing it themselves, even if they did not entirely understand the uglier parts, made his fists clench. The part about Rhea will hurt them.

Rhaegar especially. She had given his younger son reason enough to doubt her love, he knew from speaking to Ser Perkins on the matter.

Crayne’s inclusion in the song made it clear that word had spread of his bounty, and inferences had been made from that as to the intentions behind the kidnapping attempt. That the singer behind it had chosen the vilest of possibilities, rather than the more obvious interpretation that one of the Free Cities sought dragons, spoke of malice.

I shall have every gold cloak on alert. Any who dare sing it—

“Forbidding a thing only increases its allure,” Laenor said.

Either he had read his thoughts, or Daemon had spoken aloud without realizing. Denial rose in his throat, and he swallowed it, jaw clenching so hard that it ached. Laenor was right. And if the song had made it to River Row, then it had almost certainly found its way to the harbor, and from there—anywhere.

I cannot protect them from anything. Every failure loomed before him, taunting him. Crayne’s continued freedom, wherever he had fled. The warlock’s candle that continued to haunt his sons. The reward offered by Volantis for their capture, unopposed and uncontested by the Crown.

Even the Stepstones remained unconquered, merely the seeds of victory being planted, with the harvest unassured. And the true horror of the song was that if not for the protection offered by Volantis’s reward, he could very easily imagine the Triarchy hatching such a plot to punish him for all that he had done to oppose them.

He did not sheathe Dark Sister, the walk back to the Red Keep a blur of bitter rage and despair, his thirst for violence, for bloodshed, unquenched. The temptation to mount Caraxes and set out for the Stepstones was nearly overwhelming. Let Caraxes rain fire from above. He would join the chaos of the melee, find release in the spray of blood.

Anything was better than yet another day spent on planning and logistics, on useless whispers and fruitless investigations. I am a blade left sheathed for too long.

Laenor departed once they reached the yard, and Daemon hacked at one target, then another, and another, but the destruction only further fueled the fury in his heart, until he felt as though he might choke on it. I am useless. I shall only fail them, as I failed them for so long.

“Daemon.”

That was his brother’s voice. Daemon blinked, finding his sword stuck partway through the top beam of the wooden fencing along the edge of the yard. His hand throbbed from the repeated impact of metal against wood, carried up the blade to the hilt.

There were a dozen knights in the yard, keeping either a respectful or wary distance from his swath of destruction, and two Kingsguard flanking his brother, and yet all Daemon could feel was a vague sense of threat. As though he were surrounded by only the illusion of safety, and it could vanish within an instant, trapping him, trapping his sons—

You cannot protect them.

He released Dark Sister’s hilt, the fire gone even more swiftly than it had built, without even embers to warm him. He felt cold as he looked to the setting sun, then back at his brother.

“Is there not a small council meeting?”

“Laenor fetched me,” Viserys said. He nodded at Ser Harrold, who strained for a few pulls before wrenching Dark Sister free of the fence and handing her to Daemon, who stared at the sword a moment before sheathing her. A hand found his back, resting lightly there. “Daemon, you worry me. What is the matter?”

There was a concern in his voice that Daemon desperately wanted to believe. “Am I one of your problems again?”

His brother heaved a heavy sigh, which seemed answer enough. “I should not have said that before. I am sorry.”

I am sorry, but we cannot risk open conflict with Volantis while we war against the Triarchy. I am sorry, but you must wed, even if you do not wish to. I am sorry, but I do not trust you enough to explain. I am sorry, but your children must remain here, blood to be spent.

“Daemon?”

“I do not want your apology,” he said. The screams he had strangled before had still somehow left his voice raw.

His brother fell silent for a few long seconds, though his hand remained on his back, a subtle pressure between his shoulder blades. “What do you want?”

“I—” So many things all at once that they might as well be nothing. Daemon swallowed. “I want my sons.”

Viserys’s head moved, and Ser Harrold spoke. “Their arms training is finished for the day. They should be back within the holdfast.”

“Come, then.” Viserys’s hand pushed gently, spurring him into a walk. “We shall find them.”

“Are you not needed at the small council meeting?”

“Are you not needed?” Viserys prodded back, only to quickly add as Daemon’s steps faltered, “They shall manage without us.”

Daemon was escorted to his apartments, and the two Kingsguard and the knight standing vigil outside the door were then ordered a few paces back by Viserys, who continued to study him, his small frown only serving to make him appear even wearier.

“Will you not tell me what troubles you?”

Everything. “It is nothing you can help with,” Daemon said. Nothing you would help with.

“Laenor told me about the song,” Viserys said, hands squeezing his shoulders. “I shall have it dealt with.”

Daemon was startled to find that it had almost completely slipped his mind. The embers of his fury earlier flared briefly, but as he reached for their warmth, they faded once more. “Thank you.”

“Would you do something for me in return?”

He should have expected a price. Daemon’s hands flexed. “What is it?”

“Would you stop slipping your household knights when you leave the Red Keep?” Viserys’s frown deepened. “It is not safe for you until the Triarchy is dealt with.”

He does not wish to let you beyond his reach.

Daemon gave a halting nod in response, and Viserys pulled him into an embrace, pressing a kiss to his temple before releasing him, pulling back to arm’s length, gaze roving over him once more, seeking something that he did not seem to find. “Thank you.”

The sound of laughter rose from within his apartments, and the constriction that had found its way to his lungs eased. Jon. He reached for the door, overcome by the need to see them, hold them. “I must—”

“Go on. We can speak later.”

The flutter of apprehension in his chest settled as he pulled the door open to the sight of his sons staring at one another across the room, their hatchlings positioned between them in some unknowable game. All four heads turned to him, and within moments he was swarmed by all four, warmth seeping through the cold at last.

[arttsuka]

Could you draw Buster and Fang from brawl stars? They’re my faves‼️ I‘m dressing up as one of them for Halloween! 💚 (also love the art as always, I followed for the NATM and now the gravity falls!!! My two favourites 😭💚) Much love and no pressure, I hope you’re doing great!

Never heard of them but sure

Here's the lineart too

[botanybulbasaur]

vertin gender

hey you guys ever think about how arcana and constantine refer to vertin with feminine terms (ex: lady vertin), how people who are on their side but who are perceived as people who “aren’t close with” vertin time and time again refer to them with “timekeeper” and they/she (ex: sonetto, madam z), and how people who look as vertin not as a leader or an ‘enigma’ (they/she, timekeeper) nor as someone they can pawn on their side (she/her, ‘lady vertin’) refer to them with masculine terms, such as ‘sir’ or ‘lord’? (ex: an—an lee, schneider)

it’s like. the less you look at them as a pawn and the more you look at them as a person the less cisgender everything gets. i should probably do a serious theory on this

[where-are-the-spooky-gays-2]

Remus clearly wants Virgil to dress up as the sexy elf. He wants it so bad

And Vee still does for both Ree and Spooky Season <3